The Broken Throne (for TheAnnoyingNoob)

[Xatarias]

You stand proudly next to the throne of your Fathers. The city state of Fastalan and its armies may have fallen to the barbaric hordes of the Orish prince, but by the gods, you would not. Some small part of you wonders if this gesture is the futile gesture of child unwilling to accept reality, but that ickling is quickly quashed, fueling the flames of your defiance. You were the sole member of the Shirazid dynasty within the city and it was your duty to preserve it and its people.


Not that the people seemed all that disparing when the Almatine invaders knocked on the front gates. Trade had slowed to a trickle and by the time the Prince's northern forces had broken the garison at the norther pass and routed Hafez Shirazid's imortals, many people within the walls were starving. As much as you despised him, you could not deny the Almatine warlord's cunning, accomplishing with carts of grain what legions with siegeworks and cannon could not.


The rustling of silken robes draws your eyes to the remains of your father's court. The sparse rows of your father's advisors and sycophants glance nervously at eachother. The numerous plump faces among them is evidence enough to know that many ignored your order to assume half-rations along with the rest of the population. Your belly churns with anger at their weakness, knowing full well that their clinging to oppulence of the past was one of the many reasons for the rebellion of the Lower Quarter.


The more powerful of their ranks were now spirited away to safe houses within the city and surrounding countryside. For some, it was the only thanks you could give for years of loyal service. For too many others, you planned to extoll favors that would be invaluable for the resistance to come.


Guard Captian Malius had proved invaluable in securing those cowards that sought passage south. For their disloyalty, what wealth they had managed to hide would now support your desperate attempt to retake the Kingdom. Given the choice between confinement under the careful watch of your "disbanded" palace guard or the edge of an Orcish scimitar, their decision was easy.


Malius does his best to maintain his rigid posture in spite of the grevious leg injury he sustained some weeks ago at the front. The fit, middle-aged man had refused both poppy and lusthaze for his pain, insisting that his mind must remain clear for the meeting with your betrothed. Though his eyes remain focussed and sharp, his bald scalp is sheened with sweat and his jaw is permanently clenched. The pain he must be enduring only adds significance to his show of support and you once again worry for his safefy. The Princess of Fastalan was a prize worthy of conquerors, but a simple guard captain with of commoner stock was more than expendable.


The tramping of iron boot and the sounding of war horns draws your attention to the ornately-carved ebony doors. The thick wooden beam holding it shut wouldn't last long, but then, you never expected it to.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

As I stood by my fathers, or quite possibly, my throne I struggled to remain in the present. I had yet to hear from father and, while completely expected while the city has been under siege it still worried me. But there were more pressing issues; the Lower Quarter was no longer in rebellion, but traitors as they were, they were owed an apology. When we had fallen on hard times I had failed them, failed even to assert control over my fathers court. I struggled to avoid meeting their eyes, knowing now was not the time to start a fight.


I take a deep breath and look to Malius and give him a soft smile, unsure whether or not I can properly thank him for his support. Then the sound of war horns drag me back to the task at hand. Looking to one of those who had refused to move to half-rations I say, "Open the doors. There's no reason for them to be damaged in a token gesture of defiance." Then I pray silently as I await the arrival of my soon-to-be husband. Gods give me the strength to persevere under the yoke of such a brute.

 

[Xatarias]

The portly noble quivers as he receives your cool command, looking left and right as if hoping you were speaking to someone else. Seeing no other option, he heaves his bulk from the bench and scurries to the doors, pushing against the bar. The surrounding nobles twitter as the last vestige of resistance- however insignificant- is removed.


Almost immediately as the doors are unbarred, they swing open and your unfortunate courtier all but shrieks, throwing himself prostrate in hopes of receiving mercy from his new overlords.


The orc vanguard survey the man with some amusement, but make no move to harm him. They move with rigid discipline, their mail and plate are richly adorned that speaks to the legendary metalworking skill of their race. In all of their finery, you still recognize the brutal functionality of their equipment. These soldiers could clear the court in a hurricane of violence that would last but a moment... But their spears remain pointed towards the ceiling and their shields held at parade rest. The honor guard quickly forms ranks on either side of the hall, creating an impenetrable wall to all comers... Not that your shivering assembly of nobles really posed much threat.


A shuffling sound draws your attention back to the door. Though you had already resigned yourself to the most unhappy of unions, your heart sinks at the sight of the man that trundles into the throne room. Bowed over with age, joints swollen with gout, the pompously dressed orc before you is an quivering wretch. He surveys the room with an intelligence that belays his fragility and speaks in your tongue.


"His grace Cloudwalker Lu'rak of the Majestic House Turan bids his new subjects welcome. The prince will be joining us shortly and will expect a warm reception."


Not the prince then.


What feels like an eternity stretches on. A few minutes after the arrival of his guard, the prince finally strolls into the throne room.


He is... Not what you were expecting. Prince Lu'rak has the height, width of frame, and bearing that speaks of his skill as a warrior. Indeed, even in his plate and leathers, you can detect a wall of muscles moving in synchrony underneath. His pale gray face is cleanly shaven and his lips bear only the slightest jowl to accommodate his large, sharp incisors. He certainly doesn't look like the brutish description your were delivered, but there is no mistaking the potential ferocity in that sharp, angular visage. The prince is handsome and exotic but above everything else... He looks dangerous.


What you weren't expecting was the sharp acuity present in his amber eyes and the expression of wonder and curiosity born in his face. He doesn't even look at you to start with, instead craning his neck to survey the lofty stain-glassed arches of your ancestor's house. He then surveys your court with smug distain as if thinking such a group was unworthy to occupy such magnificent quarters.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Surveying the prince, I can't help but appreciate the strength evident in his bearing. If he had been human he would have stolen my heart away. If he had been a daring mercenary captain rather than my conqueror, he surely would have no trouble wooing me, but alas he is not.


Lowering my gaze ever so slightly I say, clear and loud, "Welcome, Prince Lu'rak of House Turan to my fathers court and to the city of Fastalan. Loath as I am to be bested," by an Orc, no less, I add silently, "It is an honor to meet you. I'm sure one such as yourself fought against my father in the northern passes, so tell me if you would; how did the Immortals compare to your own men? And what of our great city?"

 

[Xatarias]

"I'm here, aren't I?"


The Prince's baritone is low and dispassionate, as if his very presence said all you needed to know of his opinion regarding Fastalan's military capabilities.


Lu'rak slowly walks up to the throne and halts in front of you. You lock gazes and something flickers in his eyes. Perhaps he detects the willfulness within you or simply finds your appearance worthy of remark, because he favors you with a sharp-toothed smile. He bows without a trace of mockery... Well not too much anyway.


"It's good to meet you in person, Princess Roxana... I would speak to you without your father's... Litter present."


The nobility desperately look for your approval to leave, their basic survival instincts trumping whatever pride would have cause them to take offense at the orc's remark.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Lu'rak's remark burns in a way I had not expected, but I manage to keep my temper under control. "Of course, my Prince. Malius, I presume I can trust you to ensure the court and our guests show each other the respect they are due?"


Once the court has dispersed, I lock eyes with Lu'rak. "If I may ask something of you first, have you any knowledge of my fathers fate?"

 

[Xatarias]

The courtiers leave without a fuss, indeed most are eager to vacate the chambers now that their show of "strength" has been made. Lu'rak watches them leave with a shake of his head.


"Not a blade among them. Shameful."


He crosses in front of your father's seat and reclines on the steps at its feet, hand on sword hilt. He lets out the sigh of one who has had a very long day.


"The last I saw of your father, he was retreating to the foothills in the west with his honor guard. The fought well... If foolhardily."


The west held only nomadic shepherd tribes and cold winters. You doubt the Emperor could sustain even a small war band in such a location for very long.


"Forgive me, Princess," Lu'rak says pulling a piece of parchment from his belt. You recognize the coat of arms on broken seal as your own. "But I must insist we address the current situation. No one but my most trusted advisors have seen the contents of this letter. Your proposition... Was surprising to say the least. Would you care to explain yourself?"

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Already an idea was taking shape in my mind. I'll have to buy myself a sword. Something sturdy and effective, but there's no harm in it being showy if his retinue is anything to go by. And I'll have to ask Malius for instruction once his leg heals. He'd likely have nothing but disdain for me if I were simply to wear the sword.


"I believe it is also my duty to ask for your forgivenesses, then." I replied after he had finished his question. I must admit that, though I take pride in being well learned I know little of your people on culture beyond rumor and speculation." I bit the inside of my lip, "When defeat seemed certain, I wished to spare my people from the pillaging that often results from defeat, and the only recourse I could see what's what I have proposed. If you find it to be... subpar, I would ask that you allow us to negotiate a different agreement."


I've miscalculated, but... Learned something interesting perhaps? It would appear that marriages of this sort aren't part of orcish culture. "If I may ask, is such a proposal seen as something only to be entrusted with ones closest advisors in your land?"

 

[Xatarias]

"You misunderstand the situation. Your father refused our offer of vassalage and as a result, the Emperor Zulkanin VII, long may he reign, named me his voice and hand in this region. I defeated your armies and took your city. These people were not put to the sword because when they opened their gates to me, they became subjects of the Almatine empire. I find that people rather than corpses make better taxpayers."


"Your proposal is that of a foreign power offering an alliance, but Fastalan is now simply a name within the borders of my father's realm. You are a princess without lands, people, or wealth. Your father's host will soon be found and crushed. I fail to see how a union between you and myself would reap any benefit."


It seems like a flat refusal, but the orc hasn't dismissed you from his presence... And there is something in his voice that hints at a certain curiosity. Perhaps he is simply setting the terms for negotiations.


"I'm not in the habit of making hasty decisions, and so this remains a private matter until I can figure out what to do with you."

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

I smiled softly to myself. "I see I have miscalculated, my apologies. I meant no offense. Though you do bring up an interesting point. With no political or economic benefit to a marriage with... A simple courtier," it hurt my pride to say such, but it was clearly the case now, "what have you to gain?" I finished as I stepped forward and sat upon my fathers throne, crossing my legs in front of me and looking down at the Prince. "What then, interests you about me? I am, after all, still apparently worthy of being in your presence. Or at least, I presume so as I have not yet been dismissed."

 

[Xatarias]

"You assumed I would take as a prize. A symbol of my dominance," He snorts, "And now you're simply baiting me. I must admit... You are not what I expected."


If he is disturbed by your brash display of sitting on the throne, he shows no sign of it. Indeed, Lu'rak simply looks thoughtful.


"But if you represented a faction of some power, then this might be a conversation worth having. I notice your palace guard has somewhat thinned, or at least their numbers are less numerous than my spies would have me believe. That and the most powerful members of your aristocracy were absent from this little gathering. I find it hard to believe that so many would have died in battle or escaped with your father... Curious."


He abruptly stands and turns to face you.


"But as a simple courtier, I suppose you can't tell me anything about that. I must insist, however, that you remain my guest for the time being. Perhaps we can have this conversation again some time, but I'm afraid I have matters of state to attend to."


And so you are dismissed as the butcher of your father's armies calls in his advisors to discuss how best to rule your country.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Rising from my fathers throne, I curtsy and leave. "As you wish, Prince Lu'rak. If you wish to summon me, I will be in my quarters."


I speed up as soon as I have left the throne room, feeling inexplicably energetic. The Kingdom was safe, even if my pride and status weren't. This Lu'rak was... intelligent felt wrong. He was quick. He was keen. He knew so much more than he had any right to, yet again he triumphed because of traitors in our midst, though to leave none of the credit for the Orc himself would be to lie to myself.


Stopping a passing servant, I requested that he summon a blacksmith from the city and, should Malius be well enough, to politely inform him that I wished to speak to him.


Once I reached my room, I threw myself down on my bed, sprawling out and closing my eyes. Relief, distress, powerlessness... I couldn't help but feel that I had mismanaged the situation; that I had been blinded by my assumptions. Nevertheless, what's done was done.

 

[Xatarias]

You have time to think things over waiting for your guard captain. Could Lu'rak have been bluffing when he mentioned spies. You calm yourself knowing that the nobles remaining at the palace where present because of their usefulness. Painful care went into the concealment of your network. The fact that you were being kept as a "guest" proved that you held cards unknown or at least unavailable to the enemy... Given what you just found out about Lu'rak and his plan for the city, you needed to decide on a course of action and quickly.


Malius enters the room, notices you are alone, and flushes at the impropriety of the situation. Normally you would have a few handmaidens around at the very least. The shortage of servants is yet another reminder of how fast times are changing.


"You called for me, Highness? How did... How did the meeting go?"

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

I smile, almost laughing at his embarrassment. "At ease, soldier." I say, getting off of my bad, "And take a seat. There's no impropriety in a meeting between two friends, is there? As for the meeting... I feel I may have handled things poorly, though I don't believe there will be consequences. It's just... Gods damn it, I never thought I'd be reduced to this. A guest in my fathers palace!" I let out a sigh, "So I suppose you can do away with the lofty titles. But I didn't call you here so that I could complain, I can do that on my own time. I want you to teach me how to wield a sword. Lu'rak respects martial prowess, and if I'm to have any sway in what he does I'll need his respect."

 

[Xatarias]

"You want to learn to use a sword."


Malian does his best not to sputter the statement.


"Swordsmanship is not learned in a few weeks time, my lady, and a woman taking up the blade is simply unheard of... Then again, I suppose you learning to defend yourself wouldn't be a bad idea."


He frowns, his strong sense of tradition warring with the practical demands of the current situation. He backpedals.


"With all due respect, Highness, perhaps it would be better not to place yourself close to the orc. We should consider his disinterest in marrying you a boon. The longer you hold his attention, the greater the danger to your person. If, gods forbid, your father were to perish in the field..."

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

"If my father were to perish, then what? I am of no use to him. He gains no land from marrying me, no loyal followers, not even prestige. As a simple courtier I am, after all, below his notice. This is his land now." I sound more bitter than I had intended, but I suppose there's nothing I can do about that now that I've spoken, "But if you feel it is indeed inappropriate, then I will yield to your superior experience. I expect I would have been a poor student anyway."


I sigh again and begin to pace, "I want to prove that this is still my land, our land, but it isn't. Perhaps your right, and it would simply be best to avoid the attention... Could I trust you and your men to reign me in?"

 

[Xatarias]

"You did what you thought was necessary to protect your people," Malius reassures you. "And the Orc's slight will not go unpunished. That brute is not your equal, Milady. Far from it. Once our forces rally, we will show him the true might of Fastalan."


(Intellect roll: 15)


He says it with more conviction than you feel. It was like Lu'rak said, if pure military prowess was enough to hold the Almatinians back, he wouldn't be making plans in your throne room. That and the Immortals had all been dispersed, the wounded were still trickling in from the battlefield and what few arms they possessed were quickly confiscated. What little forces your father still commanded wouldn't last long exiled in the highlands.


A knock on the door draws your attention. The scribe you spoke to in the hall enters with a long package wrapped in canvas. He bows and offers it to you.


"Milady, the guards told me no messages where to leave the palace without the Or-without Prince Lu'rak's seal. But... This has been hanging in the archive for years. I-I don't know much about these things, but maybe it will suit your purposes. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."


He departs and you release the sword from its wrappings.

It is of the old style of make, with a rippling pattern that speaks to the mysteries of its making. Even after years of neglect, its edge has held and only a few flecks of rust mar its surface. Even with your slight musculature, the blade feels good in the hand if not light. Holding it before you with two hands, it feels like a fluid- and deadly- extension of your body.


You catch Malius gawking before he manages to reassume his rigid posture.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

"Too true, Malius, he is my better now." I say, purposely misinterpreting what he's said.


When the scribe arrives I take the package and assure him that what she's done is more than good enough. Unwrapping the blade and hefting it experimentally, I can't help but smile. It reminds me of how frail I am but even so it makes me feel graceful, powerful even. Catching Malius' momentary laps, I raise an eyebrow and ask, "Is it the blade, or am I that striking?"

 

[Xatarias]

"Striking seems a fitting word, Highness," He says earnestly, "It... It fits you, I think. We'll have to find someone to give you proper instruction. I'd do it myself but- well, you know."


He grimaces, clutches at He his mangled leg.


"If you're eager, I can show you some basic forms in the meantime. Your father's study also contains manuals that contain instructive illustrations," He says, speaking with a tone of grudging resignation,  "It's a far cry from your own personal swordmaster, but it will have to do for now... Just promise me you won't use it for something reckless."


The sword grows heavy in your extended arms, forcing you to lower it. Enthusiasm couldn't produce the stamina and technique of practice... But it seemed like time was in ample supply so long as you remained Lu'rak's "guest".


"Highness," Malius murmurs, quietly, "When the palace becomes fully quarantined, it will be risky trying to communicate with our contacts in the city... They will need some direction while you are detained. Do you have any orders?"


While your network wasn't large enough to cause outright insurrection, it was extensive and contained both competent spies and warriors. Coordinating them would be critical if you were to retake your home. Chief among your obstacles are Lu'rak's supposed cohort of spies... As well as the general discontentment of the commons. The city was not sympathetic towards the aristocracy. That needs to change if you hold any hope of expelling the Almatinians.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

"I would like that very much, Malius." I say, lowering the sword with a sigh. "I'm not even strong enough to hold the blade as it is. And I promise you I won't do anything reckless."


I lay the sword on my bed and began to pace again, "As for our contacts... Tell them to observe what they can and help the people to the best of their ability. I'm... Not confident enough to take decisive actions as of yet. Is there any other business that requires my attention, Captain?"

 

[Xatarias]

"Not at this moment, Highness," Malius bows, "If you will excuse me, I will let our friends know of your command."


The hardened soldier limps from your chambers, leaving you alone. It was approaching noon. While Lu'rak made it pretty clear you would not be allowed to leave the palace, he didn't see fit to assign you an escort. Whether an oversight on his part or a blatant underestimation of your abilities, you cannot say. Still, you should have access to most areas of the grounds. 

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

It's not even noon yet? Read, write, study something new... All of my options feel so hollow now. All my life my favorite activities have been passive, and now...


That's when I remember what Malius had mentioned. There were sword-fighting manuals in Father's study. Grabbing a piece of parchment from my desk I scribbled a quick note indicating where I was going, wrapped the sword once again and left for my fathers study.

 

[Xatarias]

You quickly navigate the numerous passageways to the north tower which contains your father's chambers. His study is near the top and reaching it requires climbing several flights of stairs. Even taken at a leisurely pace, the ascent leaves you a bit winded. You arrive at the snarling griffon statue and flip the switch hidden behind its left wing. The concealed door that opens on your left is a novelty from ancient times when coups were a grizzly commonality for the aristocracy. Having lost its secrecy, the chamber now serves a more mundane purpose as a personal workplace and library.


You light a lamp and run a hand along the spines of the numerous books neatly lined along shelves set into the walls. Your father's personal collection held numerous volumes that were too valuable for casual handling or simply held information that hadn't attracted your interest. Although far from exhaustive, there is still quite a bit of knowledge for you access here... And it had the added benefit of being far from prying eyes. Even if someone trailed you here, it would be nearly impossible for them to observe your actions without you noticing.


You quickly locate the manuals Malius mentioned. They a bookworm's delight, detailing martial theory along with extensive illustrations that prove very instructive. Although you know reading script can't give you the benefit of true practice, you do find a new appreciation for swordplay... It is far more cerebral than you first thought, provided you had the brawn to execute the specified stratagem.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

So much to read... Maybe, without all of the regular courtly duties and the strife of the war I could spend my time here? Yes, so long as the books were treated well. Or perhaps they should be copied? They were quite valuable, some of them possibly one of only a few copies left. Yes, that's what I should do while I get used to Tu'rok's new rule. In the meantime...


Unwrapping the sword and reading over a portion of one of the manuals, I make sure that I'm clear of the desk and the bookcases and begin to imitate the movements detailed in the book. How long will I last, I wonder, hmm?

 

[Xatarias]

You follow the manuals' instructions best you can, but woefully inexperienced, you quickly tire and constantly give in to the habit of moving on to the next interesting technique before you even begin to understand the previous one. It becomes clear that if you expect to develop some amount of proficiency, it will take long hours of repetitive practice.


A particularly wild swing puts you off balance and your arm falls backwards with the momentum of your blunder. For a split second, you imagine yourself falling on your own blade when suddenly your sword arm halts, and a firm hand supports the small of your back. You raise your eyes upward and are met with the grim visage of a truly immense orc.


While Tu'rok had a chiseled form, this individual is big in all proportions. His muscles bulge like boulders, rivaled only by the sizeable potbelly that strains his belt. He bears no weapons, but no doubt has little need of them. He holds your sword's blade by the flat- he stopped your swing with just his bare hand!


Seeing that you have somewhat recovered from your fall, the massive fellow kneels and offers you a sealed message.


You break Tu'rok's seal and read:


Lady Roxana,


I hope this message finds you well. The city's aristocracy has graciously offered to host a banquet to celebrate my decree that the Northern Pass be reopened. The celebration will begin at sundown and I wish to extend an invitation for you to attend. I would be remiss to not ensure the wellbeing of my guest, so I have sent Grup, the eldest son of my Mother's sister, to ensure your needs are met.


Grup certainly doesn't look much like a steward. No doubt Tu'rok sent him to keep an eye on you.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Heart still racing after my brush with death only moments before, I fold the letter and place it in its envelope once more. This would be... Interesting. That the aristocracy organized a banquet after their display in the throne room... well, I suppose only a minority were present. Let us hope they are not my enemies. Or over eager allies, for that matter.


Tucking the envelope into my sash I place one arm, still holding the sword, behind my back and offer the other to Grup. "No need to kneel, Prince-Cousin Grup, I'm no more than a lowly courtier now. Now, if I may ask, how should I refer to you?"

 

[Xatarias]

The massive orc rises, deftly turning his head slightly as to not smack into the doorframe above. He gives you toothy smile that objectively should be quite terrifying, but somehow manages to be disarming. When Grup speaks, it's like an avalanche rumbling echoing in your father's small chambers.


"Grup is adequate, Madam Roxana. As my lord cousin has seen fit to apply my prowess in battle to the task of babysitting, it seems we share equivalence in denigration."


His command of your language is surprising. Clearly Grup is sharper than his appearance would first indicate... Which will make his constant presence all the more inconveniencing to you.

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

I can hardly stop myself from laughing. Grup is, well, certainly more than I had expected.


"Well then, Grup, you may call me Roxana. If I may ask, how long until sundown?" I hesitated a moment before asking another question. "And, if you are the warrior you present yourself to be, which I do not doubt, would you train me to be such as well? As you surely saw, I have quite a ways to go..."

 

[Xatarias]

Grup let's out a chuckle at your request.


"A chieftain's daughter, training to be a spearmaiden? Such a thing would not be done even in the old days," He sees your expression and his face softens, "But since we seem to be paired for better or worse, I see no harm in indulging your eccentricity. We have several hours before Tu'rok expects our presence."


He casts an amused eye over the stacks of scrolls and manuals you have piled onto your father's desk.


"If you require it, I may assist you in carrying your reference material."

 

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

I nod. "I would appreciate that, Grup. What's this about spear maidens, though? Do your people allow women to fight?"


I wrap the sword in its cloth once again and stow it under one of my arms, picking up several manuals as I do. "And for that matter, could you teach me about your people and their culture? I feel that some level of familiarity may be necessary tonight."