Chapter 3
Kranth awoke from his vision to the clamor of raised voices nearby. Listening for a moment he quickly discerned that it was coming from the entry hall made throne room. With a sigh of exhaustion, he rose from his bed of gravel, stretched and headed down the small hall. He arrived a few seconds later to the throne room, and saw the source of the commotion. Handrel sat upon his throne with the two Stronghammer dwarves standing protectively in front of him. A the foot of the dais stood the two Silverpicks along with one of the Gemchippers. To the side stood the Blessed Gunner, his face marked with sorrow because of the current events.
It was at that moment that Barthum, who was leading the group spoke. "Ye daft King of shit! How dare you command a dwarf to destroy an ancestor weapon just so that you can have a bloody crown!" The two dwarves at his side shouted their agreement and raised their weapons for emphasis. Yet it seemed that the emotion and seriousness of the situation either did not register with Handrel or he simply did not care. With a bored wave of his hand from behind his guards he spoke. "Now, now Barthum no need to act in such a way. It will not avail you any. And besides as King I may decide to do as I please. So please hand over the axe or my guards with take it."
At the mention of the guards, Kranth looked back at the Stronghammers standing in front of the King. They were clad in Stronghammer full plate, with their faces hidden behind the impassive glare of their full helms. However the Silverpicks and Gemchippers were only in their cloths, as if they had just rushed from their work. Kranth knew that despite the prowess of the Silverpicks, the battle would be a short and decisive one. Kranth knew the Silverpicks had no weapon that could penetrate the Stronghammer's armor. Kranth was shaken from his thoughts by the sudden explosive outburst of Barthum.
His face was a deep beat red from anger, and his shout was full of force to match his face. "You worthless, gutless, cowardly hobgoblin!! How dare you say this in the very hall that Grimil died defending! By my beard I hope your reign is a short and bloody one. Your coffers will remain empty and your ale will dry for what you dare command this day! KING!" The color in Handrel's face actually drained as Barthum had bellowed his curse at the King. Among dwarves no curse was more powerful then that issued by a founding member of a hold. And non more powerful than if that founding member was a miner. Yet he was still quick to try and save face in front of the others. "Right, guards take the weapon and give it the Blessed Gunner so that he may carry out his task." One of the Stronghammers with his shoulders slumped from the dishonor, quickly took the axe from the Barthum who was still fuming and handed it to the Blessed Gunner.
The guard began to turn away but not before the other dwarf was able to whisper to him. "Why good dwarf do you dishonor yourself by serving Handrel?" The Stronghammer almost seemed to flinch at the statement before responding in kind. "I have no honor left to lose, wise one." With those parting words the Stronghammer walked back to the dais and resumed his post. Handrel turned with a beaming smile and addressed the Stronghammer dwarf oblivious to the dwarf's current feelings. "Well at least this Kingdom has two Honorable Stronghammers to protect its King. When more of you arrive, I will appoint you all as my Royal guard." The two Stronghammers cringed behind their faceplates at the suggested "honor". Yet what could they do. So they both simply nodded and turned back to face out from the throne.
Handrel seemed quite pleased with himself and sat back in his throne, a wide grin on his face. Kranth just shook his head in sorrow. He had hoped that Handrel's wisdom would improve with his rule and that he would become a better dwarf. Yet from today's display it was clear that the dwarf had no idea about what was going on around him and simply thought he could command and bully others. Kranth knew that before things got better they were going to get bloody first. When his mind drifted back to the vision's he had, it was clear that things were going to get very bloody indeed.
The other dwarves filtered back to their work places in complete silence. They had come out in hopes that the King would see reason but it was clear he would not. So with dashed hopes and in anger they went back to work. Yet none were so angry as Barthum. He went back to his small mine and worked in silent abandon. He had never liked Handrel back in the Weeping mountains and had never really warmed up to the dwarf on their travels. His opinion of the other dwarf's capabilities had only diminished with every obstacle the dwarves had face and with every tragedy. The only reason he had kept quiet was that Grimil had turned out to be a great leader for the group. Barthum and many of the other dwarves had even thought that once they arrived at the mountain, Grimil would become their King. All their ideas and hopes for the future were buried that day when the entrance collapsed on their leader. Many wished now that Handrel had been caught in the collapse that day. That way a great failure would be lost alongside their hero. Barthum however viewed the situation differently however.
The idea had first appeared to him a few nights after the collapse. When the cave in had happened Handrel had told the others that he had dashed forwards to try and kill the enemy before they could slay Grimil. Everyone, since they were in shock at the sudden lose had believed Handrel. Many even decided to follow Handrel, since it appeared that he had risked his life to save Grimil. Barthum however never really agreed with Handrel's version. He knew Handrel from when they both were much younger in the Weeping mountains. Handrel had been a devious one. Always quick to point out the failure of others, but a master had hiding his own failures. Handrel had even once convinced the ruling council that it had been Barthum who had blown up one of the distilleries, not himself. Barthum had been apprenticed at the time to become a brewer for his clan. However the others had all believed Handrel, and so Barthum lost his apprenticeship.
Since then Barthum had always been careful to believe anything that was tied to Handrel in anyway. And so when Barthum had been dozing a few days after the collapse the idea had hit him. Actually his friend Urist's boot had hit him, but the idea had come despite the blunt trauma. Handrel would have never risked his life for another to benefit, he only would have charged forwards to allow himself to gain. At first Barthum had thought that maybe Handrel had hoped to gain favor with the others by slaying goblins. However as time passed and Handrel continued to make bad decisions, another possibility occurred to him. Maybe Handrel had charged out not to kill a goblin, but to eliminate a political opponent. Barthum snapped out of his thoughts and stopped mining. Where had that sudden idea come from? Yes Handrel was a horrible leader but surely he was not an evil dwarf, right? He shook his head clear of the conspiracies and let out a laugh. "I'm startin to think like Handrel!" Urist who had been mining stopped and wiped his brow of sweat. "Let's hope not or we might bring this whole mountain down atop us." The two had a good laugh and went back to mining. But Barthum despite the needed levity from his friend could not shake that thought from his mind.
Here is chapter 3, things are starting to get interesting. Armies are on the move and Handrel's hidden actions are starting to come to light. Hope you all enjoy the chapter. Feel free to tell me your thoughts opinions and any suggestions or requests as to what may happen next. also could someone inform me how i might provide links in my opening post to my chapters? My knowledge of such things is limited.
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Topic: The Founding of a Home (Read 10047 times)