The World Storm by Jake Fredendall

Author:Jake Fredendall [Fredendall, Jake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11: The Hound King

Under different circumstances, a lone elven woman threatening my group of fully capable friends wouldn’t be a concern. However, her voice conveys confidence that unnerves me, and I know the death threat she spouts will come true were we to resist. If not by her hand, then certainly by the numerous guards patrolling the cavern. The intimidating elf turns and strides away from us without a second glance. She walks with a posture that suggests nobility but carries no similarities with the king Crimson Silverclad who by all accounts prefers his own bloodline in positions of power.

We follow on in silence. My trembling fear reminds me of the feeling I would get when I disobeyed my parents when I was a young child, and I awaited my punishment. When we finally reach the small clearing Lilith and I had eavesdropped on the king mere minutes ago, we find the king is alone and glaring at the woman as she enters his view. She bows low to the ground, making a spectacle of her loyalty.

“My king—” but as she is about to go on, he interrupts her.

“You let them see you?” he rages rhetorically. “Do you not remember my orders?”

“Perhaps we can discuss them in detail later,” she says, flashing the king a girlish smile, “but for now, I caught these miscreants discussing that they had spied on your earlier meeting and plan to use you to help them teleport to Stonewall.”

I’ve had little time to worry about the pain in my arms, but as I stand quavering before the king, I become all too aware of my wounds. Back home when I would meet with an important politician, I would do all I could to cover up imperfections to look ‘presentable’, as my mother would call it; corsets, make-up, heels, maybe even an up-do if the meeting was especially high class. Now I stand before the most powerful politician I have ever met in torn-up armor, half a cloak, and covered in uncleaned wounds. My mother would be less than impressed.

“Leave us,” he says to the elf who caught us. He removes a massive sword from his back and plants it into the ground in front of him. “Approach.” The five of us do so, and the king continues.

“You eavesdrop on me after finding your way to our refugee camp, but I hear you may have a favor to ask. Speak quickly, for I haven’t the time or the patience for you if you cannot ask plainly for what you wish,” he says, sternly through his underbite. I am about to step forward to speak to the king, figuring that I would have the best chance of not causing our collective decapitation, but Lilith is quicker to approach further.

“My king,” Lilith says, bowing low as she addresses him, “we wish to travel to Stonewall. We believe that we will be safer there than in this region of the world. By the sounds of it, you wish to be rid of non-elves.

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