Ostinus leaned on his elbows behind him with his back against a makeshift bar. He gazed at his surroundings. People meddled about everywhere, some carrying bouquets and others pints of beer or cups of wine. His skin was tanned and his wavy brown hair was pushed back and tucked behind his ears as normal. A black goatee could be seen growing in on his sharp facial features. He turned to the bar and grabbed the mug of ale he had just purchased from the bartender moments ago and drank it quickly. A foam mustache from the head of the ale was quickly wiped away with the back of his hand. He wore his brown wrist bracers along with a white linen T-shirt that had a small yellow orchid pinned at the breast as a sign of his participation in the festival. Ostinus Deenor did not truly fancy flowers, but he loved the five-day fair and the partying that went along with it.
A pair of guards walked right in front of him and they seemed more concerned with checking what the booths of the fair had to offer than keeping an eye out for mischief. And why not, this was the Festival of Flowers, it was meant to be a pleasant time. They joked together and walked on with the sound of music accompanying their laughter. It was clear to Ostinus though that there were more guards than normal at the fair this year. Every lookout tower on the city wall was occupied and the foot patrol was at least tripled from previous years. It was a rather sobering observation for to the young man.
It had been a week since Ostinus and Elberon’s meeting with the council and it appeared that the city would not make any public announcements regarding what had recently transpired at the Singrin Peaks or the recent visitors to Lunemire. More guards were present daily, but other than that…nothing. There was no sign of a decision to send diplomats or soldiers to support Orzalar. Nothing was heard of opening trade routes with the new nation called Faletonia. Although he realized that much could easily have been done without him or anyone knowing, Ostinus still felt troubled. The council of Lunemire wasn’t trusted or relied on by most. Their biggest supporters were the wealthy, who made up a very small portion of the population of the city. Maybe they knew something about Faletonia. Maybe they were about to profit from them. Ostinus did not think that complacency was the right answer from the council; he had witnessed the horrific scene at Orzalar. It was truly hard for him to understand what he himself even believed. He was disgusted by what he saw happen at the Singrin Peaks, but did not think that Lunemire and the surrounding human cities should necessarily embark on an offensive against the new, unknown and so far unimposing nation.
On the contrary, he understood that Lunemire and the other city-states could likely profit from trade with a new nation, even one of so called ‘monsters’. As long as they did not pose a threat to the human cities, then why not see what they have to offer? But trading with them would only bolster their new emerging economy and make them stronger. Was that what was really good for the land? Ostinus had always believed, as many did, that Lunemire and the other cities were too sheltered. Most of the citizens of the three cities had never been to Orzalar or even seen a dwarf, yet the mountain was clearly an excellent trading post. This all came down from the council. They limited sea travel (coincidentally to the wealthy ship owners) and discouraged venturing far from Lunemire. Ostinus thought it was absurd that not one person had even known that there were forces gathering somewhere to the north. How could they be so far out of touch from their surroundings?
Ostinus did not have the answers, however he thought that some action had to be taken. He finished off his ale and began to walk through the fair, away from the city walls. He strolled along glancing at everything around him. Common folk socialized and shopped. Flowers dangled and bloomed. Nearby was a band that could be heard playing upbeat music to which many gathered and danced. As he continued to make his way, he passed a booth that sold wine. At the counter were two young women, probably slightly younger than he. One of them sat listening to her friend but seemed to not pay attention as she spotted handsome Ostinus. She smiled provocatively and her bluish silver eyes sparkled with interest.
Ostinus smiled back and thought of approaching the young beauty, but held steady to his course. He was meeting someone and it was important that he not get side tracked. She would be remembered though, for she truly was stunning and he hoped to see her later. Perhaps when she had a couple more glasses of wine in her. The thought kept the smile on his face.
At last he came to a booth that had a loud man inside soliciting everyone that walked by. “Two copper pieces…two copper pieces and have a shot.” In his booth, seven feet away from counter, there was a six-foot high stack of hay. About five feet up a target was painted with a red bulls eye in the middle and black rings around it. For two copper pieces you could try to toss throwing daggers at the bulls eye. This was the spot. This was where Ostinus was to meet Ardius.
“How about you sir, test your skill?” The man asked Ostinus and he shook his head to decline. “Very well, and you?” He asked looking just over Ostinus’s shoulder.
Ostinus had not realized that there was a man standing just behind him. He was at first shocked that he did not notice the figure was so close, but when he realized it was Ardius, he understood he wouldn’t have noticed him. The two embraced and quickly turned to walk through the streets.
“Enjoying the festival thus far?” asked Ardius with a pleasant smile. He was a gentle looking man. You’d probably choose two dozen incorrect professions if you saw him and tried to guess what the man did. He did not come off as ranking office of the Crimson Fox.
“Probably not as much as you are my friend,” replied Ostinus. Ardius was one of the few people from Ostinus’s troubled youth with whom the warrior remained friends. They had grown up together in the streets and often had each other’s back in trying times. While many of the things Ardius did were not good in nature, he never put Ostinus in harm’s way. More times than not Ardius had risked his own well being to help his friend. When Ostinus decided to abandon his life on the streets for the army, Ardius continued to climb the ranks of the merciless Crimson Fox.
Now Ostinus’s furtive friend was somewhat powerful in the shady behind the scenes guilds of the human cities. He had become a captain of the Crimson Fox, the prevailing network of black market thugs, mercenaries and magic users. They were a bane to the laws of the city-states. The guild, however, had been in existence since the very formation of the three cities by the South Sea and thus was always a part of society. The resourceful group had their own markets of goods and services that were constantly in demand ranging from weapons and armor to grains and vegetables but much of their business came immoral things such as prostitution, exotic spirits and ales, exotic herbal leaves for smoking and hallucinogens such as certain mushrooms and berries. All, of course, sold without paying taxes to the government. When times were prosperous, they grew rich alongside the merchants and traders. When times were challenging, they still managed to thrive on the needs of the desperate city folk.
More mystic than anything were the rumors (that were at times proven) that somewhere in their hidden sanctuaries they controlled the art of arcane magic, which had mostly disappeared from Herridon. It was common knowledge that wizards would use magic to assist in carrying out the orders of the group’s leaders, although no one knew what or when they did something. Or perhaps everyone turned a blind eye. For the right price and with a good connection to the group, the uncanny powers of magic could aide one’s cause, whether it be a just cause or not. The organization had a strong presence in Lunemire as well as the two nearby city-states of Abellard and Rogsnelk. The authorities tried repeatedly to rid their cities of them but with little success. Many thought the reason the efforts to rid the cities of their presence was that the long reach of the Crimson Fox extended even into the chambers of the councils of the city states. It would surprise no one if the councils were in bed with the street guild.
Along with their trade, the Crimson Fox was also a source of information. They would know many things before the common people or even the city officials.
This was part of the reason they had leverage in the land. Their information was valuable and often people would be willing to pay to be privy to it in advance. This wealth of information is what brought Ostinus and Ardius together at the Festival of Flowers.
They reached an area of the fair where the nearby music would make it impossible for anyone else to decipher their conversation. “So the town does nothing about Faletonia?” Ardius stated as much as asked.
“Apparently not,” Ostinus replied. “I do not know why.”
“They wish to stay out of it. Faletonia has approached the city of Abellard as well and their council too has done nothing. I would say that soon Rogsnelk will hear from the new force if they have not already.” Ardius’s pale green eyes locked on Ostinus. “I think that they err by taking no action, do you agree?”
Ostinus shrugged then began, “And what? Are the cities to join and form a triumvirate to go wipe out this new band of rebels and monsters? To ride on a force that they don’t even know the actual extent of? Perhaps they are wisely not underestimating the force that is mounting.”
“Perhaps they underestimate the opportunity before them as well.” The officer of the Crimson Fox interrupted. “If trade is what Faletonia wants, then why not see what they offer?” With that Ardius drew a curious stare from his friend. Ardius rubbed his bald head and then carefully adjusted the necklace of colorful flowers he had around his neck. “Almost everything has a price.” He said with a smile. He would always try to find a way to gain in any scenario. Even the Festival of Flowers was undoubtedly making profits for him in some way.
“The Crimson Fox,” Ostinus dropped the volume of his voice at the mention of the guild “wishes to do business with the nation of Faletonia?” He sounded surprised.
“My partners are willing to at least entertain the idea. If it were profitable, and safe, then perhaps we would consider it. Besides, are we to tell the citizens of Faletonia that they cannot have their own society? Is it the just thing to do to demand they disband and return to their savage ways? Perhaps if all these orcs get together they will be inclined to not steal from our fields and rob the men who travel between our cities.” Ardius squinted his eyes as he looked around at the scene around him.
“I agree…sort of,” Ostinus said with uncertainty. “But what are we to do?” As he asked the question two women approached. The band had just started a new song and in front of the two men stood a woman familiar to Ostinus and another heavier woman. Ostinus locked eyes with the beauty, who was the same one he saw sipping wine earlier. He did not know what to say, his mind was still considering the important conversation with Ardius. She stood staring at him with a gorgeous smile on her face and a sparkle in her silver blue eyes.
Before Ostinus could get himself together, wily Ardius stepped forward, whispering to his friend as he slowly passed, “You know what I plan to do next regarding Faletonia…let me know if you will join.” As he finished the statement he turned to the woman who stood near Ostinus, pulled a bouquet of flowers from seemingly out of nowhere and asked, “May I have the pleasure of this dance my lady?” She took his hand and shot Ostinus a wink as she and Ardius turned to join the dancing mass nearby.
As he and the gorgeous young woman neared the dancing area, Ardius glanced back and stuck out his tongue at his friend. The heavyset woman still stood beside Ostinus. He chuckled to himself as he watched his bald friend dancing with the girl that he wanted, “And may I have this dance my dear?” He asked. She happily dipped a bow and put her pudgy hand in his. They went and joined their friends.
Chapter 7
Andor Poshbok looked around at the other fifteen dwarves seated at the rectangular table. They all spoke to each other, one conversation louder than the next. The Clan Room, as it was known, was booming with the chatter of dwarven nobles. Assembled in the chamber were the representatives of each noble clan of Orzalar. Their business was of the utmost importance. Andor, who was the head of the most powerful clan in the city, sat at the head of the table. He began to attempt to quiet the others, but was finding it to be a difficult task. Finally, he took the small mallet that was in front of him and banged it aggressively on the table. The conversations subsided.
“Lets begin this meeting. Sit and be quiet.” The stocky dwarf paused till there was complete silence and all eyes were focused his way. “This important decision will be made based on a vote of all of us in this room, as is our custom and all o’ your rights. The decision is final and cannot be disputed, is that accepted?”
“Aye,” was said in unison by each of the dwarves at the table.
“It has been over a week since these monsters who be callin’ themselves Faletonia took the East Mines. They have since fortified the mines and tunnels and are clearly dug in for defen-”
Andor was brashly interrupted by the representative of clan Oshbar. “Bah, the longer we wait the harder it will be to dislodge the dogs, we need-”
“Please allow me to finish, Berman!” Andor’s voice was filled with both anger and impatience towards the interruption. Berman Oshbar sat back in his chair and folded his hairy arms. “Ok…as I was saying, they are ready to defend. We also must not forget that these same scum dishonored us, killed our kin, seized what is ours, and challenged our sovereignty.” He paused and looked around at the grim faces of his kin. Andor, the head of house Poshbok, was surprised that no one more interruptions.
It had been six days since the invasion. The dwarves of Orzalar made one attempt at a counter attack but were badly thwarted. They drastically underestimated the sheer size and power of the enemy force when defending the mines and in launching their counter attacker They could not afford to do it again. The Faletonians wasted no time fortifying the mines with defensive structures and an incredible amount of soldiers. There had been much deliberation amongst the dwarves at this point on how to proceed. Most initially wanted to attack again, but it had to be done properly in order to succeed. They also now knew what they were going against and what they stood to lose.
“And no response from the humans right?” Asked another dwarven noble.
“No…but did ya’ think we’d be hearing from them? This is not war for them yet. They probably haven’t been attacked. They don’t have a reason to march up here and join us in removing these bastards, and to be honest, I don’t blame them.”
This was the dwarves’ problem to figure out and this council would decide what the next steps would be right now in The Clan Room. The Faletonians had attempted to resolve things diplomatically after taking the mines. They sent envoys who asked for peace and said that they would pay hefty reparations to the dwarves for the first few years that they occupied the mines. This idea was shot down immediately and the messengers were nearly hacked to bits by outraged dwarven nobility; however the stout folk honored unwritten diplomatic law and let the Faletonian representatives, who were all orcs, return to their kin.
Andor continued, “We all know the decision we now face. What do we do about this situation in the East Mines? We know we all want the mines back, and we all know we don’t want more dwarves to die without victory.” The dwarf stood and took a deep breath. “So...All those in favor of putting together an army and war council, and trying to dislodge the scum, raise your hand now.” Once he finished speaking he himself raised his hand. Around the table six more hands rose to the air.
“Oh come on for the sake of Ramdeen, raise ya’ fuckin’ hands!” Screamed Berman Oshbar as he slammed his non raised hand on the table, his eyes opening wide beneath his bushy eyebrows. Seven dwarves. Seven of the sixteen wanted to keep fighting for the mines back. Surprisingly the rest thought the battle was not worth fighting or, more likely, could not actually be won. There would be no more bloodshed, no more dwarven deaths, and no more mining of the East Mines for the dwarves.
There was some yelling and finger pointing back and forth, but the nobles of Orzalar would accept the vote of the council. “Then we have our decision. We will send envoys to
the mines, and we will accept their terms.” The council leader spoke and the slight disgusted tone to his voice was not missed by anyone present. “We will take substantial amounts o’ profits and goods as reparations from the mines that they labor. Like myself, I know many of you are not happy about this, but we must do what is best for our city and for our kin. In reality, we could reallocate our resources to our existing mines, which are not operated to capacity. This, coupled with the reparations from these dogs, can increase our total production. Perhaps we can make the best of this, if that is possible.” The comment drew grunts and snarls. “We will meet again in two days. Go now, and tell your clans this news.” He slammed the hammer again and the meeting was over. Oddly everyone began to leave quietly. “Boys!” all eyes turned back to Andor, “we will have those mines again one day, I would bet me beard on it.” No one said anything in response; they all just left to break the news to their kin.
***
Night had fallen on the Festival of Flowers and with it came crowds ready to party and enjoy the pleasant evening. Many of the stands selling goods had shut down; however food, drink and entertainment were still abundant. A small slightly elevated stage had been constructed and a band played wildly. More and more people were dancing and drinking as those who worked during the day now made it out.
Ostinus stood on the outer edge of the growing dance floor. Many pairs of men and women danced in unison. He wiped his hand down his face and smiled as he accepted that his buzz had set in. He had been drinking all day. His new lady friend had left not too long ago and he was not sure where to find her in the future; however she and Ostinus had enjoyed several passionate kisses before she had left. Just as the flute player on stage was beginning his solo, Ostinus saw his friend Elberon.
Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1) Page 7
