A Soldier's Life - 468 - Quorum (edited 10-13-25 +200 words)

Chapter 468: King Roderin

Two panicked servants escaped out of the side entrance to the hall while King Roderin approached with authority to the dais where I was standing. His son crossed his arms, and his daughter clenched her jaw but stayed back. I wish I knew how bad my insult was in their culture, and what I could do to make amends. Where the fuck was Maveith anyway? He was a lord of his people; he should be greeting a king, not me.

My arms started to itch, and the king was presumptuous enough to use his truth spell form on me without asking. He most likely thought I couldn’t discern its use. “Are ye the Sentinel I am supposed to listen to blather on tonight?” he said brusquely.

I was fairly certain the spell the king was using was the same as the one the Truthseekers of Telhian used. There were some variations, but since my bone etchings reacted, I assumed that everything I spoke would appear as truth to the king.

“Yes, I am the person you were told to talk with,” I said with respect due to his station. I stepped off the dais, not lord over him, but still towered over the king by more than a foot.

“The Sentinels must be desperate to have elevated one so young,” he said challengingly, or perhaps as a verbal jab for insulting his daughter.

“We are desperate and in need of allies to counter a Nashasari threat that looms over us all. We lost a quarter of our number when the Nashasari and Lich Emperor assaulted Sanctuary,” I answered calmly. He grunted in annoyance and did offer his sympathy. I didn’t know whether to apologize. I had a feeling acknowledging it would make it worse. In my defense, the dozen or so dwarven women on Sanctuary chose to shave their beards. They used an alchemical lotion that prevented the facial hair from returning for months.

“When will Queen Adelin greet us in her home?” the king asked meaningfully, looking up in defiance.

Naturally, the servants had hurried away to avoid the wrath of the dwarven king, so I had no one to answer his question. “Perhaps I can host you in the library until she does return, and the servants can get you wine, ale, or whisky?” I wouldn’t have minded the confrontation to end this quickly in some macho show of combat, but I was here to garner support, not create enemies. If I had known I was going to be in charge of the reception of the dwarven envoys, I would have studied the customs and history of the Brightmantle Kingdom in the dreamscape.

“Ale would be good, Seeker,” his daughter said from behind. She seemed to have calmed and was de-escalated the situation, which I appreciated. I nodded in thanks and briefly thought about complimenting her beard, but held my tongue.

I led the way through the now-familiar halls to the library and caught an attendant trying to escape down the hall. They obediently went to fetch the ale for the esteemed dwarven guests.

“Are you a necromancer?” the king asked as he walked through the library, nodding appreciatively at the collection. My arms itched, and I was annoyed with the truth spell being used on me. It felt so intrusive.

I made a calculated response. I knew the dwarves would hate the Empire, so I hoped to score some favor. “I am not. I was a conscripted Telhian legionnaire two years ago, but I fled that foul empire in the chaos of the Emperor’s death.”

The prince looked up from reading a title. “Did you kill any dwarves as a legionnaire?” the son asked innocently.

“No,” I answered without hesitation. “Mostly monsters and Boutan orcs,” I replied. His kingdom also bordered the Caliphate, so I assumed he had some troubles with them as well.

My response drew Roderin’s daughter’s attention. “How many orc soldiers have you killed?” she asked.

“I would be willing to exchange that information for your name, princess,” I replied smoothly, hoping to have earned some credit for the correction.

King Roderin moved between us, not quite ready to let the insult go. “This is my second heir, Runa. And this is my first heir, Prince Thrain.” The servants returned with seven pitchers of different ales, and a yeasty alcohol scent filled the library. They deposited the bounty and fled.

“I have killed some twenty Pathfinders during my time as a legionnaire.” The king looked me over, seemingly impressed.

The prince exclaimed. “Twenty?! And all Pathfinders? Did you kill them yourself or as part of a company? With the Caliphate annexing the Western part of the Telhian Empire, we have had a few encounters with Pathfinders, and they are a grumpy lot. For now, the orcs are open to trade while they still skirmish with the Empire.”

I did have some pride, but kept my accomplishments humble. “I was alone in the encounters but fell back on my training and unique skill set.” I gestured at the pitchers. “I heard the dwarven constitution is legendary, and you can outdrink anyone—please sample everything,” I said. Hopefully, the king was not an angry drunk and would mellow out.

“You called us drunkards?” King Roderin retorted. Dammit, I was drawing on what Earth thought of fantasy dwarf stereotypes, and had insulted them again.

“You do love your drink,” Prince Thrain said to his father after an emphatic look from his sister to end this. At least the children seemed to be on the side of reason. The three smelled the pitchers before filling mugs from the darkest brew.

The king looked at his offspring and grunted. Seeing me empty-handed, he looked mock upset. “Are we not good enough company for you to drink with Seeker?”

“It takes too much alcohol to get me drunk,” I said, not intending to join them. Runa rolled her eyes—not at me, but at her father. She likely anticipated what he was going to say next.

“You praise my constitution and then say you have more fortitude than me? If we're not going to fight with blades, then it shall be with pitchers of ale. If I lose consciousness before you, I will forgive your slight against my daughter,” the king said slyly. I had at least been correct in that the king had been trying to find some venue to get justice for his daughter.

“I am not much of a drinker, but to turn down an offer to drink alongside a great dwarf such as yourself is an opportunity I cannot pass on,” I said, agreeing quickly.

Both children frowned, seemingly not liking where this was headed, and Prince Thrain tried to convince his father not to proceed. “We put so much effort into getting here quickly; losing an evening to drunkenness is not advisable, Father.”

“You are free to advise me, Thrain. But I am king, and the decision is mine. Putting this young man in his place is desirable. Besides, look at the boy; this won't take long.” King Roderin sniffed the ales, found the strongest, and asked for a dozen more pitchers to be brought of the same if the keg couldn’t be retrieved. What the king did not know was that I could purge alcohol from my body with my spell form, and I was not above cheating. I didn’t even consider it cheating since no rules had been set.

The king poured me my first mug overflowing with a heavy layer of foam before pouring an equally full one for himself. The large maroon ceramic mugs held at least a quart of beer and had the heraldry of the Kingdom of Aurelith painted on in glazes. His two children raised their arms in surrender, picked up books, and settled into the only two seats in the library while we dueled.

I saluted with the mug and drained it in a long, steady pull, then set it down on the table. It was strong beer, but my natural constitution was already fighting the effects, and I didn’t even get a buzz from the alcohol sloshing in my belly. A let out a low belch as King Roderin followed after me, finishing his with a frothy mustache covering his own. He immediately reached to pour us seconds.

Since we were standing, I could see the dwarf king get unsteady on his feet after the fourth mug in less than five minutes as he filled the mugs after each round. I was currently focused on trying to purge my expanded bladder slowly. The alcohol coursing through my body was simple for the spell form to handle, but emptying my bladder with the purify self spell form needed to be controlled and slow. Maybe I could win the contest by forcing the king to excuse himself for a piss.

By the sixth mug he had slowed considerably. The king’s eyes were going glossy, and he was fidgeting while standing. We had drunk a gallon and a half of ale each, and the king looked like he was about to burst or piss himself. He was rescued from defeat by an anxious Queen Adelin rushing into the room, probably warned by the servants on her return. She spoke slowly as she took in the room, assessing the situation. “King Roderin…Prince Thrain and Heir Luna, thank you for coming so quickly. Please consider my house your house. I am sorry I was delayed, King Thelon wanted to detail his plan for keeping the Heptarchy soldiers supplied.”

King Roderin moved to greet the Queen, but his body stepped left instead of forward after he released his grip on the table filled mostly with empty pitchers. He caught himself and, with only a slight slur, greeted the queen. “You are as radiant as usual, Adelin.” He gestured at me. “I was getting to know your Sentinel.”

Runa closed her book and scoffed. “You haven’t said a word since you started drinking. How do you know him any better?”

Queen Adelin looked at me and the king, some amusement and some displeasure on her face. “I can call a mage to purge your blood,” she said to us. “King Thelon will arrive shortly with King Belanor to discuss the impending danger.”

“I am fine,” I said, releasing my grip on the table and walking over without any difficulty.

“I am fine too,” King Roderin said, but quickly added, “after I deflate in the privy.” The dwarf took uneasy steps and went down the hall searching.

“And you? Was this necessary?” the queen chastised me like I was her son.

Thankfully, I didn’t need to explain. Runa rose from her chair. “The Seeker insulted my feminine charms, and my father put him on the defensive for it. I think he navigated the situation rather well, though I’m not sure how my father will take the Seeker cheating.” My forearms itched, and I was surprised that Runa also had her father’s spell form.

“I didn’t cheat,” I said plainly, but not offended. The dwarf woman arched a brow in surprise. “I was honest when I said it takes a lot to get me drunk.”

Her brother joined her, and they both looked at me skeptically. “You can tell us how you did it. We won't tell our father. You are showing no effects—and you don’t have to pee. Did you teleport the ale as you drank it elsewhere?” the prince said with a friendly guess.

“The times are serious, and you two can discuss drinking games after the demon threat is handled,” Queen Adelin scolded us like children.

“Demon threat? Is that what this War Council is about? Did the dungeon break release demons?” Runa asked, stroking her short beard. I was guessing she waxed it.

“It is more complicated than that. We can move to my sitting room to wait for the elven kings—and your father. With four of us, we have a quorum, but I don’t want to make any commitments until all seven sovereigns have digested the news and offered their insights,” the queen said.

“Diplomatic as always, Queen Adelin,” the prince said respectfully. “Lead on. You have hosted us in Skyliton many times, but this is the first time we have visited your residence in Petros.”

Baelira, Maveith, and Evie were called to join us in a cozy sitting room. Comfortable seats surrounded a brazier filled with red-hot coals for warmth. Baelira and Runa began a side conversation about the earlier events, and she found it amusing. I learned that female dwarves take meticulous care of their beards, while men have a more rugged appearance, but men do braid and knot their beards so they won’t interfere in battle. I think the conversation was for my benefit by how loud Runa was talking, but I had already learned my lesson.

King Roderin joined us and looked much more confident on his feet and chose to sit next to me. By Queen Adelin’s nod, I think his choice of seating was a sign of respect or forgiveness to me.

King Theron arrived first, accompanied by two bodyguards who waited outside the room. The elven king had golden hair that was neatly braided in the back. His pale blue eyes were active as he scanned the room, settling the longest on Maveith. He was thin, even for an elf, as he took a seat next to the queen and they resumed a conversation about army logistics. The last to arrive was King Belanor, and if he came with others, I did not see them. His broad shoulders indicated he was a warrior. I noted that he had features similar to King Theron, so they were likely related in some way.

King Roderin, now much more in charge of his faculties, asked, “Why did we have to fly here on summoned beasts for a War Council that needed to be convened ‘immediately’?”

I listened as Queen Adelin and King Theron took over much of the narrative. She was definitely a much better speaker than I, and I could see why she had grilled me so thoroughly. She understood the imperative nature of the problem. Mage Lord Osrien arrived during the explanation, then followed up with his own research on the corrupted ley lines and theories on the current unnatural weather offshore.

I could tell it was going to be a long night as servants brought drinks and finger foods. King Roderin asked me questions to confirm parts of the story, but surprisingly, I did not feel my bone inscriptions reacting — not that I lied about anything. The rulers of the kingdoms seemed quite normal, giving each other significant respect when they spoke and discussing the plans they would make. I wasn’t even sure why I needed to be here, but I did have another bone demon head prepared to help convince a reluctant sovereign.

Mage Lord Osrien stood abruptly and pulled a scroll from his pocket, causing everyone to go on alert. “I apologize, this scroll is tethered to Mage Lord Rhovan so we can communicate.” He quickly read the message and frowned before handing it to King Theron to his left. As the message circulated, I was the last one to receive it.

It was in simple Elvish, the handwriting somewhat messy. The Nashasari were attacking the city of Pameaxos in the Northern Gorgiphia. Not just attacking, but they had somehow assembled an army of tens of thousands in the Dragon Spine Mountains and would roll over the city without much resistance. It was an inconsequential city in the middle of nowhere, but it was five hundred miles northeast of Nausis.

“It is not the only one they have,” the Mage Lord said troubled.

“Not the only one what?” King Roderin asked.

“It is not the only army the Brotherhood has in the Dragon Spine Mountains. We were scrying on a few thousand Nashasari north of Lokchai in Keisinia before I left,” Osrien said impassively.

“It could be the same one,” King Belanor hypothesized.

“No. This communication would have said if it was. Mage Lord Rhovan has tremendous range,” the mage lord said.

“This is just another distraction by the shadow demon,” I interrupted their thoughts. “They are trying to disrupt planning and pull our armies away from invading the Brotherhood of Mitzra to stop the construction of this World Gate to the demon realm.” My words were met with contemplative silence.

“I agree,” King Theron said first. “We have to respond, or their armies will pillage our remotest cities. The question is how many armies do they have in the Dragon Spine Mountains, and how did they get there?”

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