Serim

“Serim Mertyns, son of Dirron, husband of Cerlina Brightheart… you have been accused of murdering your brother Resse Mertyns.”

Well, things didn’t go quite as I expected.

I guess people weren’t as stupid as I thought they were. One accused me of killing my brother, and here I am, in front of a royal court. I had been dragged back to Aubrerid by a host of royal guards and spent a week in the Dungeons before my trial was finally ready.

My father-in-law, King Liram Brightheart, looked down at me solemnly, sorrow and disbelief in his eyes as he continued: “Should you admit to the murder of your brother, you will be sentenced to a life in the Dungeons. Should you deny it… you may choose to be put on trial. Should you prove guilty, we will have no choice but to execute you.”

Around me, advisors and Knights of the King looked down on my contemptuously. All of them were aristocrats, dressing in the finest silk, dyed purple and blue. They thought of me as nothing but a peasant who managed to get lucky enough to marry into the Royal Family… I’ll show them. I’ll show them all.

I smiled calmly up to the King. “I have always loved my brother,” I lied, “and would never hurt a hair on his head, much less murder him. These are the accusations from a criminal.” I stared at the one who had accused me, a rather short, bald man with a glasses. He looked around nervously as if he was confused about what was happening

Liram sighed. “Very well. And you will choose trial by…?”

“Combat,” I said immediately.

“Well, in accordance with the rules, your champion will be fighting the Champion of Aubrerid-”

I nearly laughed as one of the King’s advisors walked up to him and whispered something in his ears. He nodded, then said: “The Champion seems to have fallen ill. A new champion will be decided shortly.” Yes… even the Champion of Aubrerid is no match against a mix of the deadliest poisons in Anoth. “You will be taken into custody until the new champion has been chosen. And who will your champion be?”

“I have someone in mind,” I said as the guards began to drag me away.

Larek

Andirltan was given a funeral worthy of a King.

I looked on solemnly as his golden coffin, covered in flowers, was slowly lowered into his grave. “Andirltan Vudrish… a warrior until the end,” I whispered as they covered his coffin with dirt. He was buried next to his father and his brother - even though Dijurobul was a traitor, he was a warrior worthy of a funeral nonetheless.

I was the King of the Mountains… and the General Major. It was still unbelievable, but it was true no matter how I looked at the situation. Already I’ve been flooded with work - the Mountain Kingdoms War was a huge mess, and it didn’t clean up after itself. Burying of the deceased, feeding the hungry, execution of the criminals who took advantage of the war to commit their felonies… all the paperwork and court hearings seemed endless.

I began to slowly rebuild the Mountain Kingdoms, with Glitsnab and Garul by my side as advisors. Much of the kingdom had been ravaged, and rebuilding it would be costly and difficult. I had to raise taxes by a significant amount just to have enough money on hand to rebuild a few roads and buildings… and even that led to riots. Most of the crops were burned in the war, which meant the kingdom was probably in for a famine.

There were only two options left: Conquest, or a trade partnership. As much as I want to get revenge on the States of Fenlar, the foreign kingdom that profited from the war through guerrilla attacks and the supporting of criminal syndicates, we barely managed to pull through one war. Another one would definitely leave us decimated.

Fenlar was not an option for a partnership. I suspect them for the assassination of the Mountain General, and any economic alliances we make with them will always be heavily profitable for them. Only the Dwarf Cities remained as an option.

After weeks of diplomacy and many sleepless nights, I finally managed to stop the war between us and the dwarves. Now came the hard part… convincing them to become our partners in trade.

“You want us to help you?” The red-bearded dwarf laughed as he slammed his fist onto the table. A servant immediately appeared with a mug filled to the brim with ale. “You killed thousands of our men, orc, thousands,” he said as he began to drink.

“Well, you can’t forget that many greenskins died by dwarven swords and axes also,” I reasoned. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, we should put those things in the past and begin anew.”

“I don’t give a shit ‘bout the Mountain Kingdoms,” the dwarf said as he slammed the empty mug down. “Your petty little war? Heh, it helped us gain a few victories. Wouldn’t it be nice for another one to start? Let us take all your land - don’t worry, we’ll keep the pretty ones alive.”

I wanted to slap the dwarf, but I had to calm down if this was to be successful. “We have lots we can offer you,” I said through clenched teeth. “Our mountains are rich in ores.”

The dwarf waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “We don’t need no ores. We’re the masters of mining. And besides, our hills are richer in gold than your mountains. Selling ores to dwarves is like selling lumber to elves.”

I paused as I heard the dwarf finish. Very slight, but barely discernible - the scorn when the dwarf said “elves”. I sipped my wine calmly, before casually mentioning: “The Elves would profit if we were to fall.”

I saw the dwarf stiffen suddenly, so I continued: “They were probably the ones that started the entire Mountain Kingdoms War, after all. The States of Fenlar really want to conquer the Mountain Kingdoms. If we don’t receive help soon, they’ll achieve their goals.” I leaned in close to the dwarf and stared him down. He was no longer aloof and condescending - I could see him trembling with anger and confusion, and beads of sweat began to slowly roll down his face. “As much as you want to deny it, dwarf, our nations have the same goals. We both want to see Fenlar burn in Hell. We’re in no shape of doing that, after barely surviving a civil war, and even if every single dwarf man, woman, and child took up arms to fight the elves you wouldn’t have great odds. However… if we combine our efforts, we may live to see the day the elven cities burn. You hate them… you have your reasons for hating them, and we have ours. By-”

“All right, all right,” the dwarf sighed and slumped down into his chair, defeated. “A trade partnership is what you wanted, no?”

I smiled and nodded. “Your hills may have gold, but what use is that gold when there are not enough people to mine it? For as long as time itself the Mountain Kingdoms has played a big role in the slave market - and although I think of slavery as immoral, what is my opinion against those of my people? We can send you slaves… in exchange, I want a large amount of staple crops - wheat, barley, and the like - to be sent to us. This will profit both of our kingdoms… and maybe one day we can combine our armies to destroy Fenlar once and for all.”

“Very well,” the dwarf said coldly as he shook my hand.

Not all of what I said was a lie, of course. I wanted the States of Fenlar to fall as much as the dwarf who sat in front of me did.

And the elf… the archer, the one who shot her bow as fast as a machine gun. I was weak, but I will become stronger. One day, the elf and I will fight. And I will emerge victorious.