Tremble ye plebes and despair for another by the name of Callum Runchman has ascended the ranks through pure merit *cough* and has joined the house's upper management.
All soup has been thus taken upstairs.
We thank you for your dedication and sacrifice, enjoy your completely voluntary fasting.
---------
A loud series of thunderous cracks rang out across the field as a full dozen great counterweight trebuchets launched their munitions at the walls of the distant city, its previously glorious towers and manors growing increasingly ravaged with each passing day, and many of the fluttering banners it displayed mere weeks earlier now stood replaced with naught but deathly silence.
The sight across the field however, painted a much different picture.
A grand military campsite spread out as far as the eye could see, as sea of colorful tents congregating around each other in what one could only describe as the most chaotic ordered hierarchy imaginable.
The closer to the center of the camp one came the more elaborate both the coloring and the banners fluttering atop the tents became, just as their residents increased in both wealth and power, the simple men at arms garbed in gambeson and armed with spear and shields giving way to knights in full plate armor and magi in elaborate robes.
However, despite the lure of decadent opulence, today was not the day the master of the camp found himself enjoying another jousting match from the comfort of his pavilion, but instead King Uthred Belamane of Evermor stood at the front, just above the trenches that would stop any counter charge from Daggerfall, and observed his foe.
He squinted for a long moment and lowered his enchanted spyglass, folding it inwards as he did, and allowed himself the slightest sneer "The proud curs persist."
"Unsurprising" Howard Mark of Morkul scoffs from just behind him "The Thalmor truly did meticulous work when they fabricated your crimes against them."
"Indeed" Uthred's sneer grows "The first time I heard how I supposedly murdered the dear High King's son and grandchildren was when his herald accused me of it."
Howard's expression did not shift "A bit crude, but such libel is to be expected in war."
"The refinement of it all does not matter" His liege scoffs "Only the results."
"Learning lessons from our eastern neighbors, are we?" The King of Morkul asks.
Uthred turns away from the walls of Daggerfall and faces his subject and closest ally besides his own wife "If they could grow prosperous while their lands are so much poorer than our own I see no reason not to learn a lesson or two."
"And this certainly has no connection with your promise to the Hortator?" Howard raises an eyebrow.
The young conqueror tugs on his cloak as the winds around them pick up "'Twas but an implication, uncle."
"An implication that gives you every excuse to centralize power to yourself." Howard presses, and before Uthred can respond he nods "Good."
The younger man feels a bit of warmth bubble in his heart at the open show of support but quickly forces it down as his Court Wizard walks up to the two of them, his knights letting the old man through with only minimal inspection.
"My liege." The old man bows deeply "Word has just arrived from our observes at Rivenspire."
Uthred immediately tenses "Have the orcs been dealt with?"
The wizard's expression doesn't shift as he bluntly states "I am afraid not, my liege. As of right now the new Warlord of the Orsimer has consolidated his territory at speed, although..." He pauses and frowns.
"Speak, Elcasar." Uthred nearly snaps at the interruption.
"A thousand pardons" The mage blinks "The orcs sent an emissary, straight to our observers, and requested we meet them on the fields north of Alcaire within the month."
Uthred shares a long and confused look with Howard, the two sharing a silent conversation before the young ruler sharply nodded and looked to his guards "Fetch me Reynauld, we are dealing with Daggerfall as quickly as possible."
"Finally." Howard muttered.
Days later, and thousands of Bretons slain in vain, High Rock crowned its new High King.
-------
The city of Alcaire slowly grew smaller in the distance as the company of knights rode over the cobbled roads of inner High Rock, their panoply resplendent and shining, each plate polished and each tabard re-dyed for what was to come.
The banners fluttering atop their lances clearly announced them as the entirety of the Knights of Evermor, and at their head rode the new High King of High Rock, his cousin the Knight-Captain and his uncle the King of Morkul following closely behind.
"Reynauld" Uthred spoke up over the sound of hooves "How fare our preparations?"
"All is prepared, cousin!" Said knight declared loudly "Our troops are closing in from west, south, and east, should the orcs turn out to be betrayers I will hold off their champions while my brothers escort you back."
The latter statement was uttered without any hesitation. The skies were blue, and Reynauld would gladly die to buy him time to withdraw.
'Rarely does a man of such prowess grow to be so loyal.' Uthred muses internally 'I made the right choice when I supplied his warband with all they would ever need.'
"And what of our... new recruits?" Howard spoke up then "Do we trust them not to break ranks the moment they see an opportunity to betray us?"
"A worthy concern, Your Highness" The knight nods "But one I have already taken into account. Each banner whose loyalty is dubious marches surrounded by our most loyal and seasoned troops."
"Good." Howard nods "Your command is a credit to the whole of High Rock."
"I thank you for your kind words, Your Highness" Reynauld offers a practiced salute "However, the time for kindness is over. I see the enemy camp in the distance."
And just as he pointed out the stronghold of the orcs came into sight.
'No, not quite a stronghold' Uthred narrowed his eyes 'But a fortress all the same.'
Unlike the usual simplistic construction one could expect from the Orsimer, the sole pass between the King's Guard mountain range had been fortified to the standards of a seasoned military engineer, limited only by the resources available and the skill of the laborers.
Interlocking palisades twisting around each other made an easy assault near impossible while hastily erected stone brick walls stood at every important chokepoint, with thick round towers overlooking them, creating killzone after killzone.
The fortress was brutal, efficient, and most notably cheap.
Everything a Breton fort was not.
A singular banner hung atop the fortress, the red hammer and anvil on a field of green just as brash and imposing as the rest of the edifice, declaring the orcs' intentions for all to see.
"The banner or Orsinium" Howard muttered lowly "They seek to establish a kingdom of their own."
"War is inevitable then" Uthred wanted to sigh but stopped himself "And just when I thought we were finished with all the butchery."
Howard let out a low chuckle "A lesson every ruler inevitably learns-" He paused as the gates of the stronghold split open and a group atop stocky war horses rode out "-is that peace is but the time between all the butchery, not the other way around."
The High King nodded, a melancholic sheen to his eyes "And yet I already grow tired of it."
"Just means you will make a good ruler" Howard chuckles and places his helm atop his head "But that will have to wait. We have a Warlord to greet."
-
The two companies reached each other a good three minutes' ride away from the stronghold, well and truly out of range of any potential artillery or war spell, and with retreat paths easily accessible on both ends.
A dozen Bretons rode out from the company of knights, each a noble representing an important domain of Evermor, while only five orcs rode out from their own group, their armor made for functionality over prestige and yet one would have to be a fool not to immediately realize the Mer in charge.
He was a good head taller than any orc beside him, clad head to toe in heavy orichalcum plate, twin scimitars sheathed at his sides, and a great spear glowing an ominous red on his back, his face hidden behind a visored greathelm marked with a long plume of horsehair.
But what drew the most attention was the great warhammer attached to his saddlebag, nearly as long as he was tall and with its spiked head making it look more like a metal mallet than a proper war hammer, and rare was the person who needed more than a moment to guess the weapon's name.
Volendrung.
"Hail, orcs!" Reynauld's voice rang out like thunder as the orcs neared "Rejoice, for you stand before the High King of all High Rock, Uthred of house Belamane, liberator of Wayrest, and bane of the Thalmor!"
The four orcs beside the Warlord merely shifted in their saddles, their leader on the other hand rose his hand in greeting and somehow managed to speak even more loudly than the knight "I am Warchief Durrak of Orsinium!"
Uthred stirred his horse forward studying the orc for a long moment before challengingly asking "Can we trust you to remain peaceful for this parlay, Warchief Durrak?"
The orc did not answer immediately, hands reaching up to remove his helm and revealing a surprisingly youthful face below "If you can trust one thing" The orc smirked "Is that I will make it known before I decide to kill you."
Some of Uthred's vassals cursed and reached for their weapons, but the High King rose his hand to stop them and merely rode on without pause, stopping his horse only a few meters in front of the orcish party.
The orc eyed the obviously magical scepter hanging off his belt but to Uthred's surprise, the greenskin failed to show any of the disdain one might expect from his kind, merely acknowledging that Uthred was a mage and filing the information away for later.
'That would explain their rapid advance.' Uthred considered in the privacy of his own mind 'This one seems wiser than the usual orc.'
His thoughts would have to wait as his vassals rode up behind him, and before the orcs could take the reigns of it all he spoke "I must admit myself surprised you called for us instead of merely continuing with your invasion."
"Invasion, Your Grace?" The Warlord quirked an eyebrow.
Uthred would never admit, but the proper form of address left him quite discombobulated.
Thankfully the orc kept speaking while the Breton recovered.
"I was unaware we were at war?" The orc pointed an open hand back towards his stronghold "Rivenspire was an independent kingdom, not yet under your rule, and a number of our own people resided within its borders. Their rulers mistreated them, and they called for aid." He grinned a tusked grin "We merely responded."
"Sophistry!" One of the Bretons very nearly screeched as he pointed at the orc accusingly "You beasts never needed an excuse to rape and pillage as you will! And we are supposed to merely let you now that you have fabricated just cause?!"
The orcs tensed and some reached for their weapons but Uthred's voice stopped them "Lord Edgar speaks out of turn." The rider flinched "But not unduly. Just cause or not, no Orsinium was ever founded without great crimes being committed upon the populace, and we will not tolerate the torment of our fellow Bretons."
Instead of the Warlord, another orc drove his horse forward a few steps, he was nearly as wide as he was tall, and to the utter bafflement of the humans, removed his helm to reveal a pair of spectacles over his small, beady eyes.
The sight was quite ridiculous but none dared laugh as they felt his considerable magical aura.
The Orsimer patiently cleared his throat and unfurled a long scroll, then without the barest hint of emotion, he began listing "Ser Gerhard of Moira's Hope, found to be engaging in the slave trade. Lord Marc of Crestshade, found to be extorting his own people..." On and on he went, naming the crimes of the lord almost every single domain within Rivenspire "...and finally King Aldred of Shornhelm, working the poor and destitute to death before using their corpses in the mines with the aid of a cabal of necromancers."
The orc did not even acknowledge the humans as he simply folded the scroll back, and had his horse return to the Warlord's retinue.
A silent moment passed... and then the Bretons exploded in outrage and accusations, many of them going as low as throwing insults at the greenskins for the sheer fucking audacity of judging their betters.
But Uthred was not born yesterday, and once more silenced his retinue "And what of the Lord of Northpoint? He is known to be a just and righteous ruler, and a devotee of Stendarr the Protector. Has he too been slain by your fellow Orsimer?"
"No." The Warlord's blunt and immediate response once more surprised the Breton "He was challenged to single combat by myself, and fought well before being defeated. He rules his lands in my name now, paying fair tribute for our protection."
Before his vassals could once more make laughing stock out of him, Uthred spoke "This can all be confirmed at a later date." He squinted at the orc "You strike me as a wise member of your kind and yet I doubt even you are capable of fabricating so much without the obvious truth sticking out."
"Oh?" Durrak rose an eyebrow "And you think I will simply let you into my territory?"
Uthred was unshaken this time, merely directing the orc with a questioning expression of his own "Why else would you call for a parlay? We both know that even if you somehow managed to overwhelm us, the Empire's strength grows by the day, and Tamriel has never before allowed an Orsinium to persist."
The orc went to answer, but to both of their surprise, Reynauld rode up to them "Hold a moment cousin." Uthred nodded and the knight faced the orc "You said your name was Durrak?"
The Warlord eyed the knight for a moment, a flash of recognition in his eyes as he nodded "Aye."
"You wouldn't happen to be Durrak of the Companions of Ysgramor?" He pressed.
Two of the orcish riders turned slightly agitated at the title, which confirmed the answer even before the Warlord himself answered with a strong "That is I."
Reynauld nodded, but still pressed for the benefit of the other Bretons "The same Companion who is a known ally to the Hortator of Morrowind?"
The moment the words left his mouth, the human aristocrats all tensed.
"Reyvin and I are old friends, yes. I accompanied him at the beginning of his journey, when he was but an apprentice." The orc's grin turned predatory "Unless I turned into the beast you believe me to be, he would not strike at me."
"And what of his wife?" Uthred cut in "You must understand that trying to gain independence from Tamriel now is suicide. Why even attempt it if you know the dragon will crush you no matter what?"
The orc's response once more made him doubt himself, as Durrak outright laughed at his question, rising a hand to forestall him "Apologies" He chuckled before turning serious "King Uthred." He addressed him "I am a Circle Companion of Jorrvaskr, a slayer of dragons, and a veteran of Skuldafn."
Each title alone was enough to mark him as one of the greatest warriors alive, combined they painted the picture of a monster.
Durrak leans in "Both Reyvin and Minthara can kill me with a single word."
Once more, the Bretons shuffled awkwardly in their saddles. They knew the stories about their future sovereign and her spouse, but to have it confirmed by someone who knows them personally...
Uthred had to hold back an eyeroll as he felt looks of respect and admiration directed at his back, for he was wise enough to curry favor with the pair long before the rest of them even considered it.
'Rats and snakes.' The High King sneered internally, and outwardly nodded at the orc "So you plan on remaining loyal to Tamriel then?"
"Only an idiot, or someone suicidal would not." Durrak nodded firmly "And now that I have confirmed I am not the barbarian you expected." Once more his expression took on a predatory glint "Let us negotiate."
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The mines demand more sacrifice!
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