Chapter 32 #2
“A lesser man might find your question impertinent, Krujha of the Shifting Sands,” he said.
“But it is my hope to see our nations united in harmony, so I have learned much of the orcish customs and attitudes toward leadership in recent years. And so I understand your question comes from a place of respect and a desire to better understand a situation which will affect your friend. This is a commendable quality to possess.”
Krujha hesitated. It had not occurred to him that they weren’t supposed to ask questions in a meeting like this.
Orc leaders were always in conversation with those they led.
Even when Zorvut had taken the throne, leading for the first time as a king rather than a warlord, he had still followed the orcish custom: when leadership changed hands, he sat for two days in Drol Kuggradh to speak with every orc who wished to see him, answering their questions and addressing their concerns.
Perhaps he should have foreseen that elven kings were rather less accessible to their subjects, sequestered in their castles as they were.
“Thank you, your majesty,” Krujha finally answered, lowering his head the way Alwyn had when speaking. Maybe he had put his foot in his mouth after all; but luckily, the king appeared more amused than offended.
King Ruven seemed to gather his thoughts before answering.
“It is a matter of family, and the importance we place on familial connections. It might help you understand if you consider how long-lived an elf might be, and how many of those years one can be child-bearing. A man of two hundred years is not an uncommon occurrence, and if he had a child at thirty who goes on to have a child in thirty years, and so on—he would very likely live to know his great-grandchildren’s great-grandchildren, many of which might be peers with each other.
Prince Taegan is my only child, but it is not out of the realm of possibility that I might have more someday—who might be of an age with my great-grandchildren. ”
He paused. Krujha nodded to show he understood—though, in truth, he was still not entirely sure where this was leading.
“An elven family might have six or more generations living concurrently within the same village,” King Ruven continued.
“Considering how two individuals can create families they live to see grow into a hundred direct descendants, to outright kill anyone is a most grievous offense. You kill not only that individual, but a hundred or more lives that might have been had that person lived—thousands, even, if you take a longer view. Elven families can be vast, but they are all considered part of the same unit—much like an orc clan might operate. To kill anyone is a tragedy. But to kill a member of your own family—to destroy the fruit of your own vine—is one of the most forbidden sins an elf might commit. It shows a disregard for life that many view as the highest depravity. Kinslaying is one of the most harshly punished crimes in all of Aefraya.”
“But Zesh was not your kin,” Krujha interjected. Alwyn sucked in a sharp breath, growing as tense as if Krujha had reached across the table and slapped the other elf in the face. Still, the king seemed to take the interruption in stride.
“Not by blood,” he agreed. “But he is my son’s brother through marriage, and so is still part of my family in that way.
For an agent representing the power of my house, my family—my son’s family—to be the one to kill Zesh.
.. Well, it can call into question what other depraved acts the crown might be willing to permit, or even conduct itself.
And even without these cultural factors, this could very easily drive a wedge between Prince Taegan and King Zorvut, whose marriage is the foundation of our union.
Knowing your father-in-law may have been the one to order the death of your brother can be difficult to swallow, even considering the.
.. fractured relationship between Zesh and the king.
From any angle, it is not a flattering position to be in. ”
Now, finally, Krujha could see how all these pieces were coming together.
This was why the mission had been to capture Zesh and bring him to King Zorvut in the first place.
Even if the rebel warlord had been sentenced to die, it would have been a royal decree, placing the Glynzeiros dynasty and the orc king’s newfound rule as a unified front in the decision.
It would have been far more fitting for King Zorvut to be the one to sentence him to his fate, both as his brother and as the king Zesh sought to usurp.
For him to die at the hands of an elf agent, acting in service of the crown, could easily paint King Ruven and his son in a poor light.
Gorza had even remarked on it when she and Krujha spoke upon first meeting the elves that joined them on their mission—how surprised she was that the king would send an assassin to ensure Zesh’s death if they failed.
Back then, he had not understood how much weight such a contingency plan might carry, especially to other elves.
“I see,” he said, nodding. “Thank you, your majesty. I understand the position this puts us in much more clearly now.”
“Good,” the king replied, turning away to pull a piece of parchment toward him.
He began to write something out on it, leaving Krujha and Alwyn to wait in silence.
As he wrote, Alwyn glanced sidelong at him again, trying to get his attention.
When Krujha met his eyes, the elf made a small, quick motion of his hand across his throat, but Krujha only raised an eyebrow.
“What?” he mouthed silently. Alwyn grimaced, nervously glancing back at the king, who was still making a note on his parchment without looking at them.
“No more questions,” he mouthed, his brows deeply furrowed.
Krujha frowned. The king had seemed welcoming of the question, and the slight admonishment he’d given Krujha had been subtle and light-hearted enough.
Plus, it was all information he needed, so he didn’t regret asking.
Still, Alwyn looked anxious enough that he worried the little elf’s heart might finally give out, so he nodded and tried to give him a reassuring smile.
Alwyn’s expression became marginally relieved, but he still seemed just as tightly wound.
“Back to the matter at hand,” King Ruven said finally, pulling him from his thoughts.
Whatever note he had made was now folded carefully in front of him.
“High Sorcerer, I cannot fault you for obeying orders you were given, but I must make an example of someone to avoid any further tension building between Aefraya and the orc wildlands, and to maintain trust between my son and King Zorvut.”
Krujha frowned, his heart racing all over again.
Was he suggesting Alwyn take some kind of fall for this anyway?
He had sounded reasonable enough when explaining things to Krujha, but such a thing seemed cruelly unjust. But he held his tongue, and Alwyn remained anxiously silent.
After a moment, the king sighed and leaned back slightly in his chair, regarding them both.
“I would imagine, considering your role in all of this, Krujha, that High Sorcerer Alwyn has explained to you the existence of the Order of Twilight,” King Ruven continued.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Alwyn visibly grimace.
Krujha knew that the Order of Twilight was, of course, technically meant to be a secret—and to his credit, Alwyn had given him few details beyond its name—but clearly there was no point in pretending he did not know.
“He mentioned a few things, yes,” Krujha replied. “Enough that I knew not to ask questions.”
To his surprise, a single, half-amused chuckle escaped from the king. “Smart.”
Krujha bowed his head, stifling a laugh of his own. “Thank you, your majesty. I try.”
The king’s amusement faded as quickly as it had come, though, as he looked at Alwyn again. He did not seem as outwardly frustrated as he had before, but Krujha still couldn’t get a read on him. Alwyn remained motionless and tense, waiting.
“If Tessarion did command this without my approval, he cannot be trusted to continue in his role as Mage Princeps,” King Ruven finally said. “It poses a particular challenge that he acts as head of the Order of Twilight, and the eyes around the capital that report to me are filtered through him.”
Alwyn nodded, some measure of relief in his voice now. “We will help however you deem fit, of course. Both of us.”
Krujha felt relieved, too—it seemed Alwyn would not be made a martyr after all, though he wished the elven king would just say as much. However the king planned to use them, he would do so happily if it meant at the end that Alwyn could go free.
“Of course,” King Ruven agreed. “I will need to consult with only my most trusted advisors regarding this, but we will arrange something. For now, High Sorcerer, you are to continue your interactions with the Mage Princeps as usual. And I trust I do not need to tell you: say nothing to him about this meeting.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Alwyn answered, lowering his head.
Though they weren’t outright in trouble, it all still left Krujha unsettled. He had no desire to let Tessarion escape whatever judgment the king deemed fit for him, but he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around why all of this had happened the way it did.
“I will contact you when we are ready,” the king continued. “For now, you are dismissed.”
“Thank you,” Alwyn said, standing to his feet while keeping his head bowed low.