War Of The Wildlands(90)
After nearly an hour, a gray-haired councilor in a yellow robe strutted down the hallway. “You have a report for the king, I’m told,” he said. Staring at Yori with disdain, he awaited a response.
“Yes,” Yori said. “A few months ago he sent me to learn a special craft. I have returned to offer him my service.”
“The king himself sent you?” the councilor asked suspiciously.
“He was the prince at the time, and yes, he sent me himself.” Yori returned the stare, showing the old man that he was not intimidated by his tone.
“What was this craft?” the councilor asked, narrowing his eyes.
“That is between the king and myself,” Yori replied. Growing impatient, he added, “He’s not going to be pleased when he learns you’ve kept me from my duties.”
The old man snorted. “What name shall I give to the king?”
“My name is Yori,” he replied. “I am the blacksmith he pardoned and sent on a mission.”
“Wait here,” the man said. He turned and strode back down the hallway, disappearing through a tall wooden door.
Yori sighed and continued to wait. Several minutes later, the councilor once again appeared at the end of the hallway. He beckoned for Yori to follow him.
The doorway led into the king’s throne room, where a large number of people had gathered. Apparently Yori was not the only one who had business with the king. The councilor motioned for him to take a seat among the crowd, but a voice commanded him differently.
“Yori,” Aelryk said. “I didn’t actually expect you to return.”
Yori stood dumbfounded, unsure how to address a king. Their previous meeting had been so informal that he had not stopped to consider how he should behave in the king’s presence.
Waving frantically, the old councilor summoned Yori up to the front. With a tilt of his head, he signaled Yori to stand in front of the king. Yori obeyed, standing awkwardly before the throne. Silence ensued, and he glanced back at the councilor who was lowering his head, apparently trying to tell Yori to bow.
Yori bowed awkwardly before the king, trying to fight his own embarrassment. The king suppressed his laughter, understanding how out of place the young half-elf must feel.
“Have you completed the task I gave you?”
“I have, Your Majesty.”
“Good,” the king replied. “Have you mastered the craft of rune carving?
“I have.”
“And have you come here to fulfill your promise to work for me?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but I have a condition.”
Aelryk raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What might that be?”
Yori took a deep breath and let it out. He knew he was in no position to make demands of a king, but his conscience would not allow him to remain silent. “I will work for you on the condition that the weapons I craft will not be used to harm the elves of the Wildlands.”
The king nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “I have every intention of upholding the peace treaty. I understand your request, and I give you my word.”
Yori gave a single nod. “Then I am at your service, Your Majesty.”
“Good,” Aelryk replied. “I will have quarters arranged for you here in the palace.”
“If you don’t mind,” Yori began, “I would prefer to live on the north side of town near the large grove of trees. I prefer to remain close to nature.”
“I will have a home constructed for you,” the king said. “The palace armory is now yours. I trust you to oversee its daily operations and produce quality weapons and armor for my troops.”
Yori felt a surge of pride. Being placed in charge of a king’s armory at his young age was no small accomplishment. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said.
“You may encounter some prejudice while the war is still fresh in everyone’s minds. In time, I hope we can move beyond that. You are dismissed.”
He bowed again before taking his leave. Exiting the palace, he followed the dirt path around to the armory, where a dozen smiths were hard at work. These men were now under his supervision. As he entered the army, he noticed a small purple flower had lifted its head and pushed its way through the snow.