Page 11 of Faeling
Vallek had barely taken his throne before the delegation from Kaldebrak was led into Ninevar’s Basilica. Punctual, as always. He expected nothing less from Chieftain Kennum’s people.
The second-largest of all the orcish cities, Kaldebrak was another marvel of orcish engineering. Built straight into its mountain, the city was a trove of iron ore, copper, and silver. The smiths of Kaldebrak rivaled those of Balmirra, tooling exquisite filigree and forging mighty blades.
That Kennum had allied with him without a single crossbow bolt being fired Vallek considered one of the most important achievements of his reign. If anyone could have opposed Vallek and his vision, it was Kennum in Kaldebrak.
The two united cities, occupying the northern and southern orcish territories, made a compelling argument for all in between to join their ranks.
The Balmirran court had gathered to see the delegation from Kaldebrak, most of the empty space between the thick redlimestone pillars crowded with finely dressed orcs. The wealth of the city was on display, every paladin dripping in fine silks and silvers, expertly tooled gorgets and torques round their necks declaring house and rank, and there were hardly any earlobes to be seen, every ear studded with golden hoops announcing achievement and position.
Although he found the whole display a tad pompous, Vallek himself rarely standing on ceremony outside of official functions, the sight of the court still stirred his pride. They were rich and content, and it wasn’t just the nobles and officials who benefitted from Balmirra’s prosperity. Even in the lowest quarters of the city, Vallek’s people were cared for. Everyone was clothed and had shelter, all had access to water and food. Those who needed it were given work through the city’s many industries; those who required it were given medical aid in any one of over a dozen healing houses.
His people paid him with their loyalty and hard work. He repaid them with his care. They wanted for nothing.
That was what the delegation from Kaldebrak saw as they entered the basilica—a prosperous city, full of successful orc-kin. And at the very top of it all was him, Vallek Far-Sight, ready to welcome all to take part in the success. The price was loyalty—not an unreasonable fee, in his opinion.
Three officials sent by Kennum walked at the head of a retinue of Kaldebraker warriors. Several of them carried boxes and baskets, no doubt full of gifts, and one official had a set of scrolls tucked under her arm.
The party halted at the foot of the steps leading up to his throne, and as one the group bowed low to him. Vallek nodded, acknowledging their deference.
“I welcome you to Balmirra, my lords and ladies. I trust yourjourney was swift.”
Straightening, the frontmost and eldest of the officials, an orc Vallek knew as Rulf said, “Indeed, my king. Our chieftain sent us off with fine weather, and we bring it with us to you.”
“Much obliged. The people will thank you for the break in thunderstorms; we’re all sick of the hail.”
Rulf and his underlings made the appropriate noises of commiseration, and a few more pleasantries were exchanged before the old orc waved for the boxes and baskets to be brought forward.
“Please accept these gifts from our chieftain, a token of our cities’ continued friendship.”
Five warriors brought their loads and placed them on the dais steps. Lids were lifted to reveal the glitter of gold, gems, and breathtaking metalwork. Vallek leaned down to inspect, lifting a particularly large sapphire from a box. Cut and polished, it took up most of his palm, and holding it up to the light rendered the red banners of his hall a deep plum.
“Exquisite. Please write to your lord conveying my thanks. These will be the treasure of Balmirra.”
Like most gifts he received, some would be added to the citadel’s coffers, while the rest would be given to the people. He would be sure to tell the officials who passed out the wealth to inform the people of the gift from Chieftain Kennum.
Fostering good relations between not only him and Kennum but also their people was vital.
They were all orcs. Kin.
“I most certainly will, my king. Thank you.” Holding out his hand to the assistant on his right, one of the scrolls she carried was placed in Rulf’s waiting palm. Unfurling it, he said, “Ourchieftain wishes to offer one more gift, if it would please you, my king.”
“Indeed. He’s already been far too magnanimous.” With a nod, he invited the official to speak.
“Our chieftain has been blessed many times over with the gift of his seven daughters. As a sign of our friendship and alliance, Kennum Green-Fist offers you the hand of one of his four unmated daughters to take as your queen.”
Vallek could feel Eydis’s gaze fall on him from where she stood to the side of the dais, but he didn’t meet it. More than a few gasps and murmurs fluttered through the court, although Vallek found it hard to believe anyone was truly surprised by the news. He certainly wasn’t.
With so many unmated daughters, it was only a matter of time before the old fox positioned one of them to rule alongside Vallek.
He and Eydis had talked many times over this very scenario, predicting that it was likely why Kennum had been so amenable to an alliance in the first place. Installing one of his daughters as queen would ensure Kaldebrak’s continued influence throughout the territories.
In all their discussions, Vallek had never found himself entirely opposed to the idea. Surely, he could find at least one tolerable.
He’d never come close to mating or marrying, but as he continued to rally more clans and banners to his side, the question of who would sit beside him on the throne only grew.
Eydis had warned him he would soon need to choose.
Kennum’s offer was a good one. A smart one. However, Vallek anticipated a similar offer to come from Chieftain Hrothgar of Innrinhom any time now. Well, perhaps it was littlemore than wishful thinking, but Vallek was willing to give the old battleaxe a bit more time to pull his gray head out of his arse.
