Chapter 7

Respect

Captain Heathgrim stood at the foot of the throne, his chin up, his shoulders square. Sitting before him was no other than Orieth Orrdrum. The young king had brilliant blond hair and blazing orange eyes. It was a common trait among Hidrrian males.

The sun hung low as it was only just rising, the fresh sunlight leaking in slowly through the stained glass that overlooked the entire throne room. It cascaded a deep purple and orange light over the royalty.

"You killed him." Orieth stated flatly. His expression, uninterested. Despite that, it still brought a chill upon Heathgrim, who's jaw clenched

"He threatened my family, your Majesty." Heathgrim said clearly, though not too loudly. The acoustics in the throne room was enough to kill a rat if someone spoke too loud. The king's eyes flickered with distaste.

"These cultists threaten all of Tavernkeep. Your selfishness blinded you." Orieths judgment felt like a mallet to the head, sizing him down smaller and smaller with each word. "That being as it may, it was clear from Emmits testimony that the prisoner in question was not going to reveal any legitimate information. Had that not been the case, you would find me much less lenient." Orieth raised a brow as he finished. Heathgrim fell to one knee, and bowed his head before the king.

"My sincerest apologies, your Majesty. I was indeed blinded, and there is no excuse, nuisance or not." The king seemed entirely unimpressed by his leading captain's apology. But with a sigh and wave of his hand, he dismissed Heathgrim to go as he pleased. It seemed he'd caught the king on a good day. Or perhaps he simply didn't mind all too much, as they had several more prisoners. All of which were dispensing just as much useless information as the last.

Heathgrim had strongly advised against the counter-attack as it stood. Spreading his men out that far, leaving them vulnerable to being plucked off was far from Orieths best plan. Ultimately, the final decision was entrusted to Heathgrim, but there was too much nuance to simply do as he pleased. Orieth always had an indirect way of punishing him whenever going forward with a different plan than his own.

The last time he'd done so, he'd been stationed on the wall with Uthir for several weeks as there was suddenly a threat of Ronck overpopulation. At least, that was Orieths awful excuse. The Oakmen on the walls didn't dare tease him directly, but he could feel their stares.

But two weeks on the wall seemed much better than losing hundreds of his men due to a shitty plan.

Marching toward the War Room, he quickly shut the door behind him. He sighed, and threw his helmet aside on one of the many couches. He proceeded to pace back and forth around the massive table in the center of the room. A map the size of the table itself was stretched out across it, marked with pins and flags, scribbled with ink. It had seen better days. But its weathered display never ceased to remind him of his countless endeavors. His success and his failures as captain.

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Then, someone else entered the room. It was his second-in-command, Captain Kojok. He boarded on insubordinate sometimes, but when it mattered most was often exactly the man you wanted to see with you in battle.

"Heathgrim, man of the hour, how are you feeling?" Kojok said, before throwing himself down on a couch. The large burly man sniffled, shaking his head and ruffling his long curly brown hair. His darker complexion displayed his Rifnallian heritage, which he wore proudly.

"Shite. Just shite." Heathgrim growled, leaning against the War Table. "This plan is shite." He added. Kojok nodded in agreement, then switched to shaking his head instead.

"I've been in those roots before, man. Deep in the roots. Our men will sooner be killed by falling wasp nests before finding that camp." Kojok said with a shrug, before pulling a starfruit out from seemingly nowhere. He bit into it, spilling juice over his leather armor.

"My point exactly."

"That why you killed that freak?" Kojok interjected, wiping his lips sloppily.

"No, I…" He felt a flare of frustration, and quickly smothered it. "It's not important. I need to think of another plan. Something that doesn't involve risking our entire army to find a few men." Heathgrim stared vigorously at the map, waiting for some obvious answer to jump out at him. Of course, it never did.

"I smell wall duty, again." Kojok said with a stupid smile, leaning his head back against the couch.

"You got any better ideas?" Heathgrim jabbed back quickly, throwing the captain an ugly glance. It went unnoticed as Kojok had his eyes closed. He'd just come from practice clearly, as he was drenched with sweat from head to toe. That man never knew when to put down the sword, as he had very little going in his life hobby wise. Not the type to sit down and read poetry or fine literature, Heathgrim had noticed.

"Orrdrum is good at a few things, but military tactics is not one of them. So I, for one, will back you up if he attempts to reprimand you for a change in plans. But as for concepts for a plan, I couldn't tell you, brother." Kojok seemed to use the last bit of brain power he had to push out that sentence, and then let his head hit the couch once again.

Heathgrim had learned though that Kojok never went back on his word, and his support was nonetheless appreciated.

"We need a way to make these cultists talk. Clearly stabbing it out of them isn't working, we need some sort of positive reinforcement, as much as it pains me to say." Heathgrim found himself rounding the War Table once again, when suddenly the idea came to him.

"Kojok, did they ever describe what this relic looked like? The thing they were after?" Heathgrim inquired, pointing at the captain with an almost accusatory finger. Kojok swung up from the couch in a haze and smacked his lips.

“Huh…yes. I believe they described it as a hexagon carved from stone, with a square carved in the center, and an even littler square within that one. Sounds rather boring to me.” The large man shrugged before forcing himself to stand up and lean against the War Table. It creaked beneath him, but held.

“Boring or not, they want it. Do me a favor and get a stone smith to create what they described. If they want their relic so badly, we’ll see what they are willing to give up for it.” Heathgrim smiled to himself before making his exit.