[ WP ] The hero was killed , the princess was sacrificed , and the evil king rules the land . For the average citizen , though , things have taken a turn for the better .

Jack was smiling, for once, even though he was handing a bag of coin to the tax collector. Though taxes had n't been lowered since'The Hero's execution and the death of his Rebellion ( in fact, they had been raised somewhat ), the benefits of having an Evil King with full coffers and a fair Princess with a degree in economics for a'sacrifice' had been enormous. 
 
 Monsters and bandits which had plagued the lands were being hunted down within days of showing their faces, rather than the months it took a village to raise the money needed to hire a hunter, the result of several lucrative contracts with the mercenary griffin riders from the North. Without the near-constant pillaging of villages, disruption of trade, loss of livestock and razing of fields, everyone's purses were a little looser, the economy booming as roads were rebuilt through the skeleton army turned engineering workforce. 
 
 Thus, Jack could actually afford to pay the taxes. He did n't have good numbers, but he certainly knew that the sock under his bed was heavier than it had been past seasons, and that was knowledge enough. 
 
 `` Afternoon, Paul.'' Jack nodded, even as he upended his bag into a bowl. 
 
 `` Jack.'' Nodded Paul the Tax Collector, starting to count the money already as he sat there, flanked by his two guards. Another benefit of the surplus of money was a redesign of armor. It was still black as night, and featured a grim red dragon, but rather than grisly spikes and snarling mouths, the new armor was much more pleasant: smooth, round plates and a wolfish design to its helm, which now allowed them to see more clearly. It was certainly something which caused less property damage during a casual search of the house, and much more safe for children to be around, overall lessening animosity from the tide of unpleasant misunderstandings between the guards and local citizens. 
 
 `` Is the wife feeling better now?'' Paul queried, finally finished with Jack's coppers. 
 
 `` Aye, the Coven put her right. I'm paying by labor. The witches need a new writing desk, it seems.'' Jack smiles, thinking to the small coven of witches at the edge of town, their brightly lit ( but very much darkly painted ) house now tending to a stream of ailments, assisted by the townsfolk's many women. Gone now were the days of asking for firstborn children. Instead, their prices had been'subsidized by force', thanks to the Dark Lord, and now two days of slavery per week for a year had become the asking price for a life-saving cure, one happily divided by members of the families that needed them. A side benefit of such was that even now, more and more womenfolk were taking up the Witches' Hat to pay for the cures for their husbands and sons, and the lasses were migrating to smaller villages with their knowledge, spreading the methods of the Coven of the Black Bandage far and wide. 
 
 `` Young Jan's daughter took up the pointy hat, I hear. That, or that klutz Loren has melted another desk.'' Commented Paul, carefully examining a badly dented silver. He passed it on to Mongo, the guard to his left, who dutifully pounded it flat with his war-hammer. `` Mmm, and Marissa's gone to Southbridge, little cosy cottage near the site of a big battle they had last year. You know, the King of Light's men? Found herself a handsome necromancer. Only two scars on his face, she says. They're going to raise an army together, I hear.'' 
 
 `` Ah, the best to them, then. All done here?'' Jack grins, taking back his pouch from Paul. He left knowing that the inevitable regiment of skeletons would eventually be used to grow the empire, bringing in a new influx of immigrants and refugees. It'd be a bother to feed them for a while, but once they had gotten on their feet and eaten the local food, he was sure they'd come around. 
 
 They always did.
