Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1)

by Blake Bisciotti

  Releasing hands, Daniel Woonton said, “I better not,” and left the room.

  When he returned back to his seat, Rez was standing waiting for him. Then he began to laugh and put his hand on Ardius’s shoulder and nodded his approval. “Well done young man. Well done.”

  Ardius smiled at his mentor. This was his first time using magic as leverage, but certainly not his first time conducting shrewd negotiations.

  ***

  The masses were restless at fist, but eventually settled down. Great excitement had filled the air for most of the night into the morning. Most were, by now, aware of the orchestrated carnage that had occurred; word had travelled quickly. The murder of all the giants in Faletonia occurred within the same few hours. All who were assembled looked up at the figures in the window of the building in front of them. Their leaders looked back down at them and received applause. It was clear the crowd approved of what had been done with the giants.

  From a large window elevated twenty feet up in the building called The Scorpion’s Den, several orcs looked down at their eager audience. In the crowd were over a thousand orcs, many goblins and a cluster of ogres, packing the square uncomfortably beyond capacity. Those that could not fit into the square poured into the street or nearby buildings. There were thousands of Faletonians in the city and the message about to be spoken would be relayed to those who could not get close enough to hear.

  Minsheen, Neemno, Stath, and a few other top orcish officers stood triumphantly at the windowsill, flanked by two shamans. They each wore their armor. Stath wore a thick steel and breastplate. His large upper arms were bare but thick steel bracers covered his forearms. Neemno had his studded leather armor and Minsheen his large spiked plate over his left shoulder with his bracers on his forearms. His remarkable red gem hung on its chain.

  When the crowd quieted Minsheen began, his deep voice having decent, but not perfect, control of the common tongue. “My brothers, as you know we have lost some battles over the last two weeks. It is disappointment yes, but we remain strong. The humans know that they cannot defeat us. They know we are very strong.” The sound of some goblins and orcs translating to those of their kin who did not understand the common tongue could be heard lowly throughout the crowd. “Our strength continues to grow by the day. They fear us, we no fear them. They no longer will attack us but will cower back to their cities. Brothers, we lost some battles, but we will never lose the war!” His scream was matched by hoots and hollers in various different languages and dialects from the crowd.

  “I look now and see goblin and orc and ogre. This is Faletonia.” Minsheen opened his arms out towards the crowd. He seemed to look larger than his almost six and a half foot frame. “Goblin, orcs and ogres can live together. Can prosper. But giants serve only themselves and will only ever do so. Giants think first of giants then of other Faletonians. We know you all would agree.” Cheers of concurrence rose loudly through the square and surrounding streets.

  “All those that get in the way of Faletonia’s glory will meet death!” With that Minsheen punched his fist hard into his open palm and the crowd hooted further. Minsheen then stepped back as Stath and another officer approached the window. They hoisted something up onto the window’s ledge and then threw it out of the window. The head of Argorok, once the most powerful Faletonian, crashed to the ground at the base of the Scorpion’s Den nearly hitting several orcs. A twisted expression was fixed on the giant’s bodiless head as the eyes stared lifelessly. The cheers continued louder.

  “As for now, we will worry first of Faletonia and not of war with men. We will grow and we will live the good lives that we came together for. We will not attack the humans.” The hollering of the crowd subsided and a disappointed silence followed and was expected. “War is not the solution now…but we will one day have our revenge on the human scum. But we will not attack their cities now.” Cheers were scattered now. “Speaking of humans…” Minsheen continued.

  The doors to the Scorpion’s Den, directly below the orcs in the window, opened and many heavily armed orcs marched out and pushed the crowd back to clear space. Once the area was cleared, they formed a circle around the perimeter of space that they just created. Next out of the door came a train of humans, each wearing a thin chain shackle on one ankle. The chain connected each human to the next. They continued to come out, looking disheveled and even beaten. Most humans in Faletonia were outcasts, likely banned from the three cities of the South Sea for reasons undoubtedly deserved. They looked all around and wore expressions of fear and confusion. Last to exit the Den were several more armored orcs with spears pointed towards the chained captives. There totaled nearly forty humans, mostly men. They huddled together in the space cleared for them.

  “Orcs, goblins and ogres are Faletonia.” Minsheen continued. “There is not place for giants or humans. Humans cannot be trusted. They allow greed and desire for power to control them. This has been their problem for all their pathetic existence.” He pointed towards the humans below him. His eyes met Desmund Feon’s, who was the only human on the Council of Leaders. Desmund’s left eye was swollen shut and he had a cut on his opposite cheek. Minsheen turned his bald head slowly to look at Desmund’s most trusted officer and friend, Thomas. “We must remember these are not the humans that attacked our city, these humans have been with Faletonia, but they are not Faletonian.” Hisses and whistles went up through the crowd. “What should we do with these humans? They themselves were never enemies.” The crowd screamed out some unpleasant suggestions.

  Minsheen continued as he looked down on the crowd before him. “These humans help build our cities, teach us better use of the common language.” The large orc slowly looked down to the humans. He locked eyes with one of the women and stared at her with a stoic expression locked on his face. “Orc, goblin and ogre are Faletonia. There is no place for humans…and they shall share the fate of the giants!” He screamed with emotion and again the crowd roared.

  Minsheen’s glance returned to Desmund Feon, who returned the look with a hateful stare through his only open eye. “Slaughter them!” The large orc yelled to his soldiers in the orcish tongue. Quickly the soldiers surrounding the humans drew their blades and slashed or thrust their spears. The men and women were too awkwardly bound to resist the assault in any way. The sounds of human screams were drowned out by Faletonian cheers. It was a ruthless butchering with some of the orcish soldiers toying with the humans. Limbs were severed and stomachs cut open. Desmund Feon did not release his gaze form Minsheen, until an orc jammed a sword into his stomach. Even then, he returned his attention back towards the orcish leader. Within minutes all were massacred and hacked up human bodies and a giant’s head lay in an enormous pool of blood.

  Minsheen turned slowly towards another orcish commander that was present in the window and asked in a low voice. “And their children?”

  “Dead.”

  “Including the one?” Minsheen asked with more concern, referring to the half orc half human that Desmond had shown him.

  “Dead.”

  Minsheen and the orcs who stood with him in the window looked down intently. Each smiled widely. First it was the giants and now the humans. They were shown no mercy and the cheering crowds below evidenced that the rest of Faletonia, the real Faletonia, supported it.

  Chapter 30

  Even with peace announced, the feeling of unease still festered among the army within the city formerly known as Southland. The peace declared seemed brittle. Some men were getting much needed rest, few even considered a celebration was in order; however, for most, staying in the city was beginning to be a bother. They wanted to return to their homes, to sleep in their own beds. There were none more uncomfortable being away from their homes than the fifty dwarves who remained in Southland.

  The dwarven contingent was stationed in two buildings on the west end of town. The dwarves had decided it was a suitable location, perhaps subconsciously choosing a place that put them closest to the Singrin P
eaks. Their accommodations were comfortable enough, although they thought every room was drafty.

  Beltrin Molder shuffled down a hallway that was lined with doors. He stopped at one of the entrances. The stocky dwarf looked up and down the hallway and felt fairly certain it was the right room. His burly fingers rapped the door several times. Within seconds the door opened and he entered the room closing the door quickly behind him. “Crazy day today,” he said to the dwarf who let him in.

  “Aye.” replied Fred Fredrin, whose beard was braided into two thick braids. There were now four dwarves in the room. Beltrin would be the last to join the group. “Damn humans are all over the place. I won’t pretend to know what they’ll do next.” Fred and Beltrin walked over to a small square table where the two other dwarves sat. They took a seat with their kin.

  The air smelled of light tobacco, which one of the dwarves smoked from a pipe. The day had indeed been a crazy one. The humans announced that peace was made between Faletonia and the cities of the South Sea. In addition to that, the men proclaimed their army’s leader, Victus Antonel, was their newly appointed king. Most seemed happy, but not many had a chance to consider what the implications would be. The dwarves didn’t understand much about the human cultures or political systems, but changing rulers and joining cities had to be a difficult task in any corner of Herridon. What would their councils think as their power was usurped by the captivating Victus Antonel? Which way would the third human city of Lunemire sway? Was the largest city of the three included in the new plan?

  Captain Ibelgof Opfs had directed fifty soldiers to remain with the human army. The dwarven attack against the Faletonians outside of Southland was unlike anything found in any history book. The subsequent promise of allegiance between human and dwarf was a frontier of diplomacy for the two nations. Both sides wanted to immediately begin to develop their relationship; the fifty dwarves staying with Victus would be monumental in this effort.

  Fred Fredrin removed his foot from a heavy leather boot. He wiggled his toes within his sock. “I knew I’d miss the mountains, but I couldn’t expect I’d be missin’ them this much.”

  “You’d stink the whole damn mountain up with them feet, for the love of Ramdeen.” Beltrin molder said as his oversized nose scrunched in disgust and he waived his hands while the others chuckled.

  Putting his foot back in his boot Fred continued, “The humans and the dogs are no longer at war, but the war goes on for us dwarves.”

  “That’s if they’re even tellin’ the truth. Humans can be naïve and orcs can be deceivin’,” said the dwarf with the pipe.

  “Aye. I wouldn’t trust em’ as far as I could toss em’.”

  “The humans or the orcs?” Asked Fred with a low giggle. Two dwarves joined in the laugh, but the fourth dwarf at the table kept a serious expression. The others took note of this and they quickly stopped laughing. He was not as brawn as most dwarves, but he didn’t need to be. Hurlon Nacburrow earned his reputation in battle. He displayed his talents with his twin black axes again on the battlefield outside the city as the dwarves broke into the Faletonian ranks.

  “The human war is over, I think we should be leavin’ here. If anything, we’re needed even more back at the mountain.” Beltrin Molder said in a serious tone. “I’m not seein’ a purpose to us bein’ amongst this odd lot.”

  “Agreed. We shouldn’t be wastin’ our time here. We must be careful travelin’ home though. Fifty dwarves wanderin' about outside of our mountain would be an easy target for a Faletonian force.” The dwarf said as he filled his pipe with another small wad of tobacco. “Ya know lads, we saved this human army from being destroyed, yet they were quick to accept peace knowing that peace was not made between Orzalar and Faletonia.” The dwarf said as he pointed his pipe at the other three in a sweeping motion.

  “Aye, you wonder how hard Victus fought for us. Quick to call us allies but yet the dogs still be in our mines while the humans have peace.” The room went silent for a moment. It was a touchy subject for the dwarves. Those who remained with the human army wondered how the clan leaders back in Orzalar would take the news.

  “We can not leave.” All eyes turned to Hurlon as he leaned forward in his chair as he spoke. “We were given orders to remain with the humans until further notice and unless there is somethin’ you’re not letting on…further notice has not come yet. So we should follow our orders and remain with the humans. Even as they go back to their cities.”

  “But when we were given the order, the humans were at war,” Beltrin responded.

  “And we don’t know how long they will be at peace. Smells like the feeblest o’ peace treaties. We were given orders to stay. Victus has told us that they would send a rider to Orzalar to inform our council of what happened. The clans will then either send for us, or let us stay. The decision is theirs not ours and we will do as they choose.” As Hurlon finished his sentence, he placed a bottle of wine on the table and looked to the other dwarves with a shrug as if to ask why not?

  “Aye, I agree,” said Fred Fredrin as he eyed the wine. “As much as I’d rather be in our tunnels and drink some real ale at the tavern, we must do what we were told. We are the eyes for our clans here. Let’s learn what we can and help when possible.” His eyes returned to the wine, “We an start by teachin’ em’ how to brew some real ale and give up this piss.” They all enjoyed a chuckle. “Besides, dwarf and man will be fightin’ side by side against these Faletonian fuckers soon enough I tell ya’. I’ll shave me beard off if that aint true.”

  “You’re already ugly enough Fred,” said Hurlon and they all enjoyed a laugh. “And who knows, it sounds like Victus wants Orzalar to be a bigger part o’ his plan. We have another objective here and that’s to learn about these humans and their ways.”

  “Are we starting by drinking wine?” A match burned bright as it was struck on a matchbox. It then simmered and held its normal flame as it was applied to the dwarf’s pipe while he toked it lit. The rest of the conversation between the dwarves was about plans for their band of kin in the morning. Then after the business talk was over, the bearded companions enjoyed a little fun playing dice.

  ***

  Not one man in the army had much faith in Faletonia holding the peace that they had agreed to with King Victus. For now though, the war was over and they could go home. Victus informed his men that they would all leave the following day. This was a short war by any measure, lasting only about two weeks from the day they marched, but all were happy it was over.

  The King had ordered two hundred men to remain behind in the city, which belonged to his kingdom now. He was still intrigued by the city and would walk about inspecting it during his last night. He wanted to see how the Faletonians were living. It was not as much a victory lap performed by a conqueror as it was a curious type of research. It was not clear to him exactly what would be done with the city yet. Rogsnelk and Abellard were not overly crowded cities, so there was no immediate need to move men up to the newly acquired stronghold. Perhaps this would happen one day, but not yet. The city sat between his Kingdom and Faletonia. It could stand as an outpost for his army to garrison and protect the kingdom by keeping an eye towards Faletonia. He was not sure, but it would be used somehow. For now, two hundred men would remain there and further search the buildings. They would also begin to make repairs and demolish buildings that were created for giants or ogres, as they served no purpose for smaller humans.

  The next morning, when the army began to march home, a cool refreshing breeze blew its way through the soldiers as if to congratulate them on their victory. Spirits were restored and the men had further embraced the new direction their lives would take. Most men respected Victus as a leader and as a man. Long had the councils of the city given citizens just enough to get by while neglecting the chance to find prosperity. It was common knowledge that many of the council members grew very rich by awarding their businesses with profitable contracts and favorable treatment. Some wondered if they e
ven paid taxes on their profits, but all knew the poor families in the cities certainly taxed. Stories of what life could be like under the rule of King Victus began to spread amongst the men. There were hopeful discussions of redistribution of wealth from the ultra rich to the poor as well as the possibility of full satisfactory employment. These were pleasant fantasies that many soldiers hoped would become a reality.

  Not all council members were deceptive; Victus himself had just become a member of the council of Rogsnelk. At twenty-seven years of age, Victus was very young to join the council, but the people made their voices heard and got their man into power. The reigning councilmen had probably hoped Victus would join the council and be used as a pawn while silencing the growing voice of the populace. Now, all power would be his, and they hoped for the improvements it might bring. They aspired for a new life. They had their king and their king was Victus and Victus was hope.

  The army camped overnight on its trip home. They would return to the cities by the early afternoon the following day. Throughout the night Victus walked about the camp fires among his men; he was still as much a soldier as he was a king.. He was the king of his people, and was in power to serve his people; he hoped to never let the power make him forget that. Immediately the soldiers began to call him sire and my king, terms with which he had not yet become comfortable. It was not lost to him, however, that each time a man referred to him as such, he could see the optimism sparkle in their eyes. Victus had told the fifty dwarves that Orzalar had left behind that they could return home to their clans, but they insisted to stay so he welcomed them to return back to the cities with his army. Fifty dwarves would certainly be a strange site in Rogsnelk or Abellard, but dwarves would be welcome. They were allies and their support when Victus and his men needed it most would not be forgotten. In addition, dwarves were incredible engineers and would undoubtedly aid in construction throughout the city. At the very least, the pubs would prosper given the dwarven appetite for ale.