~Thorben~
“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Demanded Danar. Thorben and Tanrin were standing at attention before their father, knowing that his patience was paper thin. One wrong word, look, or action and they would not only be battered and bruised from last night, but working in the smithy until they collapsed from exhaustion. They both hung their heads, shame showing on their face, if not quite taking up residence in their hearts.
“DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO YOU DAMN NEAR KILLED?” Yelled Danar. Their father closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose as his mother stood beside him and watched. “DO YOU?!” He screamed as he resumed his pacing while simultaneously rubbing his temples. His pacing followed a predictable route between the hearth and the front door. Despite the question, the boys knew better to answer the question. They knew to let their father’s anger run its course before trying to justify or explain their actions.
Oh well, he is trying to calm down. Maybe we will get out of this with a lecture and a promise to not do it again.
After a few tense moments, Danar continued, “Do you even know who you damn near killed last night?” He spoke in an eerily calm voice, a voice bordering on defeated. Not waiting for the boys to answer, he continued, “You almost killed two of those boys, one being Dorn, the son of the lead counselor of the Dwarfish Council. Answer me this question, honestly, before we continue. Why? And you better think before you respond.”
Why? Thorben thought. That arrogant, racist piece of shit deserved it. That’s why. He pissed me off, pushed my buttons, and was trying to kill my brother. I ended the threat and taught that blowhard a lesson.
“Dorn either laid in wait and ambushed us, or seized an opportunity that we presented him with to throw his weight around. We didn’t start it, and we weren’t able to get away. We did just what you taught us.” Thorben said a little too quickly.
His father’s face darkened by at least three shades of red. Before he could explode, his mother interjected in her ever calm demeanor. She had always been the coolheaded parent. She was the one thing that could calm their father’s flare-ups. Danar was an unstoppable driving force guiding their family forward. It made them perfect for each other. The boys didn’t mistake their mothers’ calmness with weakness. Quite the opposite. Their mother’s calm demeanor was just as scary as their father’s outbursts. “You would like us to believe that the two of you could take down five opponents, but could not make a tactical retreat or diffuse the situation? That two of the finest warriors I have ever trained were impossibly out manned, and terrified to the point of their brain’s function shutting down, by some soft wannabe nobles barely out of childhood? ”
Damn, she can always analyze these situations. I can never lie to her.
“Remember, I trained you. I understand your capabilities, in some ways, more than you do. Did you try to diffuse? Did you try to retreat? Or did you relish an opportunity to show off your combat prowess like a hormone driven teenager?” Kari said. “True warriors don’t simply master physical forms and techniques. They master themselves. They can find inner peace, even amid combat. Warriors do not show off by beating on kids. That is not why I taught you these skills.”
Did we try to diffuse? Dammit. No, we fanned the flames, but they deserved it! Did we try to retreat? No. We barely gave a half-hearted attempt to justify fighting. Thorben forced himself to analyze things objectively. No matter how much they deserved it, and they deserved it, I surrendered to my rage again. No matter how you cut it, I wasn’t in control of myself.
Ashamedly, Thorben said, “No, mother we didn’t.” Looking at both his father and his mother, his face flushed in shame, he continued, “I intentionally intensified the situation and made no actual attempt to escape. I wanted to make Dorn choke on his racist words. No matter how much they deserved it, I wasn’t in control like a warrior should be.”
Tanrin, whose loyalty eclipsed his mischievous nature, chimed in. “We, brother, we intentionally intensified. I am not blameless and will not let you shoulder the responsibility alone,” Tanrin said meekly.
Danar and Kari shared a look. Having regained a measure of composure, Danar said, “There are always going to be people in this world that are consumed by hate. I know that you have been on the receiving end of prejudice and bigotry, being a non-dwarf growing up in the dwarfish community. No matter how much they deserved to be beaten to a pulp, don’t let their hate consume you too. You are better than that. I would argue that your unusual biological heritage and cultural experience dynamics are a powerful combination that can lead to a path of greatness. If you make the right choices.”
Kari interjected, “We are not mad because you stopped Dorn from nearly killing Tanrin. We are worried that this rage will consume you. It is already preventing you from clearly analyzing situations and making sound tactical choices. We love you, son. We love you both very much, but we won’t always be around to fix things or decide for you. You need to grow up, both of you.” In most places, the age of majority was 16, but dwarves had a significantly longer lifespan than most of the races, surpassed only by the elves, and therefore considered anyone younger than 100 rotations to be a child.
“We must be off. Because of this situation, we have to meet with the council. We will do our best to smooth this over and make assurances that this will not happen again. You will stay put. The council has asked that we restricted you to home until we get back. Reflect and meditate.” Danar said as they left.
Time passed slowly, as the boys sat in silence, broken by the occasional half-hearted attempt at small talk. “It’s been hours,” lamented Tanrin. “Why is this situation so complicated?” It had been a while since they had grounded the boys. Tanrin was pacing back and forth in the commons area, recently emerging from “being one with the stones.” An active meditation technique unique to dwarfs. Thorben had never entered the state successfully. He was always alone with his thoughts, always ruminating, always. Tanrin interrupted his thoughts again. “Some racist ass hats acted tough. We showed them the error of their ways. Admittedly, we might have slightly crossed a line in doing so, but that shouldn’t take hours to discuss. Assign us some extra community responsibilities and let’s move on!”
Thorben’s gut reaction was to agree with his brother, but a voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let him. “Tanrin, we messed up pretty good this time,” Thorben said.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“We just ...,” started Tanrin.
“Stop. Just hear me out. We messed up pretty good. We may have had decent reasons, and at the moment I admit I wanted nothing more that to do what we did. Hell, at that moment, it felt amazing. The blood pumping in my heart demanded more. It still doesn’t mean it was the best decision. We acted on impulse and emotion. I know you would back me up no matter what, as I would you. This time, we should have walked away. You know we could have if we tried.”
“They called you a beardless worm! They deserved it!” Tanrin stated. Thorben could hear the resignation in his voice despite the objection.
“Don’t forget tree-licker,” Thorben said with a sigh. “I love you, brother. I’ve been called worse, and we both know it. We disappointed mother, abused her training, and placed father in a difficult situation. With his new position on the council, he is under scrutiny and held to a higher standard. As the eldest, I should have known better. I’m sorry.” Thorben finished with a sigh that encapsulated all the stress on an older sibling’s responsibility.
“Don’t give me that shit, Thorben. You are literally 10 months older.” Tanrin said as he rolled his eyes. “Point taken, though. We should have done better.”
~Danar Deepiron~
Danar looked around the council room. To humans, the size of this cavern would seem unreal, but it was a testament to his people’s ability to mold stone. Seats surrounded the council floor, enough to fit every dwarf four times over. The tiered design allowed for sound to travel to every seat while simultaneously deadening any echo effect. The dwarven historians through the ages had carved their people’s history upon every surface of the hall, including the support pillars which blended in seamlessly with the surroundings.
“Esteemed council, I have gathered us today to address the report that Thorben and Tanrin Deepiron assaulted no less than five dwarves, and to determine the consequence of said offenses.” Head Councilor Bargan Thunderhammer bellowed in the chambers. “The siblings in discussion have a lengthy history of disrupting the peace,” he continued. “We must bring a stop to this terroristic behavior.”
“Surely, you jest Head Councilor Thunderhammer. You paint a picture of innocent dwarves being accosted as they fed the poor, while simultaneously rescuing abandoned puppies and helping blind elderly dwarves navigate the tunnels. This couldn’t be further from the truth. We are discussing the alleged self defense of two members of our community who were the victims of a racially motivated assault by no less than five dwarfs, one of which is your son.” Objected Danar. While still a rookie councilor, he was unafraid of making his voice heard. What was politics compared to combat? Most of the dwarves respected this about him. Though not all. He disliked political intrigue and games. Those like Bargan lived and breathed it. There was simply no way for these two types of people to coexist without a level of conflict.
“Councilor Deepiron, please follow protocol and wait to address the council until given the floor.” Corrected Head Councilor Thunderhammer.
“My apologies, Head Councilor. I simply wished to ensure the council knew the opposing argument. I assumed that one in your position would appreciate the conflict of interest being made public to ensure transparency and justice. Further, in the name of transparency, I would like to state for the record that the two accused are my sons.” Danar boldly stated.
The vein on the Head Councilor’s head seemed to grow and throb. Bargan was a politician through and through. His wealth and mind for trade had helped him to climb to the pinnacle position of the council. While Bargan had been busy lining his own pockets, Danar had been serving in the war. When the dwarves had been called home, he had buried himself in his smithy to help reacclimatise to peace times. In a clipped voice Bargan said, “While the council thanks you for your ... thoughtfulness, we insist that proper protocols be followed.”
“Understood, High Councilor,” Danar said in an overly smooth voice as he took his seat.
The next several hours were an intense debate on the conduct and credibility of both the accused and the accuser. None dared demean the Deepiron clan outright, but like any master politician, they danced the line, leaving no doubt as to their intentions. The Head Councilor presented arguments and evidence of the boys’ trouble making escapades. Danar would attempt to provide context and common sense interpretations, which seemed to be enough to sway the council until the final character witness.
Head Councilor Thunderhammer asked Kiha Ironblood to give testimony about the recent attack on her skewer stand.
Dammit, boys, why did you do this?
“I know those boys were behind my pups attacking me. I don’t know how they hid meat in my pockets, but I know they did!” Mrs. Ironblood testified.
“How do you know this?” Asked Head Councilor Thunderhammer.
“Councilor Deepiron visited my stand shortly after the attack and offered to pay for the treatment of a healer, damage to my stand, and loss of revenue. He is a man of principle, and wanted to make it right.” Mrs. Ironblood answered.
Why couldn’t I have just ignored my kid’s actions? Why did I have to attempt to fix this prematurely?
“Councilor Deepiron, is this true?” Boomed Head Councilor Thunderhammer’s gruff voice.
Danar glared at Bargan, knowing that there was no escape from this political trap. Bargan knew it, and a slight smirk appeared on his lip. He’d have to be careful with his words. Danar could sacrifice his honor and save his boys, or save his honor and sacrifice them. While he loved his son with every fiber of his being, without honor, he would be nothing. He wouldn’t lie.
My sons, what have you done? I can mitigate the damage, but your choices are your own. I hope you understand.
“Yes, I suspected my sons were involved in Mrs. Ironblood’s recent difficulties, and I felt obligated to make amends where I could. I did this with no evidence of wrongdoing, and in all honesty, I did not know for sure if they were involved.” Danar clarified. “Dwarfs help each other through strife and difficulty. We do not turn a blind eye to pranks gone awry or racist behavior. Regardless of who the perpetrator is.” He said with a pointed look at the head councilor. Danar held out hope, but was afraid it wouldn’t be enough.
My sons...
~Thorben~
Dad seemed to be in a daze as he walked into the cave. Mom followed, eyes red and shimmering. “I did what I could, my sons. I’m sorry.” Danar stated. He sat at the table and poured four glasses of wine. He immediately drained his, motioned for everyone to sit, and refilled his own.
“Dad, what’s going on? Do we have latrine duty? Did they assign us to a work detail in the deep mines?” Asked Tanrin. Latrine duty was beyond miserable, but typically a brief assignment to avoid illness. Depending on the offense, the consequence could be more than one term of latrine duty, just not consecutively. Thorben hoped the consequence was not that. The deep mines were better, definitely not fun, just more sanitary, but were a longer service sentence. They also didn’t count the travel time to get down into the depths of the earth towards the service time either. This could be anywhere from 10 to 20 sleeps, depending on where they sent you. Thorben glanced uncertainly between his father and mother. What had happened that had put the two strongest people he knew in this state?
“Are we going to prison? No one died, did they?” Asked Thorben. Prison, though extremely rare for dwarves, was not unheard of.
“No one died. You are not going to prison, but you are facing a council dictated consequence that I had hoped to avoid.” Said Danar. “I could not persuade the council that you weren’t a menace to society. I think that many of the councilors could see the truth of the situation, but Bargan Thunderhammer presented circumstantial evidence I could not refute.” Danar said. He met both of his son’s eyes and in a heavy tone said, “You have been exiled.”