As the Chosen continued their advance, insidious plots were being formed within the country of Anglest.
"You understand now, don't you?" An old man's voice echoed off the cold stone walls deep underground, "This war against the Chosen, us dwarves gain nothing by standing at odds with them. It's unfortunate, yes," he slowly circled the group of dwarves, staring at the ceiling as he spoke, "...that hundreds of thousands of humans may die. But there's no point in joining them at the grave, is there?"
"Hmph, you say that like Anglest is destined to fall," A gruff man scolded him, "Do you have no faith in the men and women of this country I've helped turn into soldiers?"
"No, no, no, you are missing the point General Ston," The dwarf with the long white beard waved his hands in denial as he continued to walk around them all, "It is not that I doubt your or 'their' ability, I'm saying that even one dwarven casualty in this war is one that could've been avoided," He raised his fist, "As we speak, our people are being forced to fight a battle that isn't theirs. Look at the first checkpoint, thousands of families are now missing fathers or mothers, sons and daughters," The old man finally stopped behind an empty chair, placing one of his hands on it as he addressed the hushed council once more, "If we believe in the message we received from the Chosen following Balkan's fall, then us dwarves would be given immunity should we turn a… blind eye," He finished slowly, shifting his gaze from one dwarf to another.
"And if it was a lie?" A woman spoke up for the first time, "What if it was a ploy to breed conflict and unrest between our people? While we're too busy arguing with the humans, those beasts come and kill us all. Have you ever given that a thought?" She asked, growing less confident in the chairman as the dwarves around her made sounds of agreement.
"Why yes, I have. And that brings me to my next point," The old man left his spot behind the chair and once again began to circle the small group before he spoke, "The northern realm…"
"Oh, fuck off, you would not dare insist-"
"Why yes I would, General Ston," The chairman quickly shut the general down so he could continue speaking, "The country of Buldor has made contact with me and they're willing to aid us shall we come to a certain… decision."
"Filthy heretics, traitors to our race!" General Ston seethed, "I refuse to see the day we work hand in hand with the dwarves of the north. They chose to live in isolation, to reject the sanctity this country gave us when our people lost their homeland. Buldor has even gone as far as attempt murder on both of our kings!" The general's demeanor was slowly becoming more hostile, "You would shake hands with those… those-" He tried to find the right word, but the chairman didn't have the patience.
"But in their eyes," The chairman stroked his beard, "us dwarves of Anglest are the ones deserving of the title 'traitor' for bowing our heads and branding ourselves helpless victims, not even attempting to rebuild our own country following Beg's war. However, I have no desire to debate against you since I truly do not care," The old man wiped his weary eyes, uninterested in the matter, "What I seek is simple. I wish for nothing more than the survival of the dwarven race. I am not misguided by the lines in the sand we draw and call borders, and I have dutifully heard out what Buldor has to say on the matter.
"I will not listen to this crap," General Ston stood, "We are citizens of Anglest, one people, no different from our human counterparts. There are even instances of our two races intermingling, giving birth to-"
"Yes, yes, I truly…" The old man locked eyes with the general as he once again stopped behind his own chair in front of the group, "...do not care. With or without your help ladies and gentlemen, I will seek the path that puts our own people first. However, I should mention that a messenger is being prepared to meet the Chosen's leader and express the opinion that the country of Buldor and myself share. I guess what I am asking you all here tonight is not whether we 'should' protect ourselves. But rather, will you join me… or die for this human country?"
"What a load of crap," The general kicked his own chair over, "You want to talk about branding ourselves 'helpless,' what do you think you're doing right now? We have a chance to defend the place we call home, and that's only going to happen if we all stick together. Heh," He laughed as a smirk rose to his face, "you even said it yourself. Our people are fighting and being killed as we speak, you think some messenger is going to make it to the Chosen? You think this stance of yours is even going to be expressed?"
"Hmm…" The old dwarf brought his hands together as he thought about what to say next, "None of you have even seen what the country of Buldor looks like, am I correct in that?" He looked around, smiling at the fact that no one spoke up, "I suppose none of you would have. After all, they've isolated themselves from the outside world… Well, usually that is. Two years ago, I was given an invitation. I'm sure another fact none of you are privy to is that they have a new king. A young and rather eager man has taken over… After he murdered the old king, his father-"
"Wait… Now Buldor has a reputation of murdering their own royalty and the new king is a man who would murder his own blood?" A woman interrupted, "Is that supposed to convince us to join you?"
"Now, now, don't be hasty. I haven't finished. Apparently, the old king was a rather cruel man. He subjected many of his own people to torture as a pastime and he raped an uncountable amount of his female populace. His reign was only allowed because of the iron grip he kept over the military. He ruled through fear, and the weak bowed their heads because they lacked someone they could put their hopes into. Of course, none of you would know this, would you? We've all written off Buldor and left it to die, ignoring any number of tragedies that occur there because 'they made their choice and left us.' Do you think the children growing up there would agree with that sentiment?!" He raised his voice, clearly trying to grasp every ounce of his audience's attention, "Did the tortured boys and raped girls that knew nothing of the outside world make the choice to separate from us two centuries ago!? None of us were even alive then, do you think the hatred you've been taught from the day you were born rightfully deserves to extend to those who have never known anything different?!!!!" His voice echoed around the room before he spoke in a more reserved manner, "No, it shouldn't. That is what I believe. And having met the new king of Buldor, I think he is a man deserving of respect. On the day magic was thrust into this world, he ripped his father down from the blood-stained throne he rested upon and has now led his country into their first ever period of prosperity. He encapsulates what it means to be a noble of the people, if not a tad too idealistic," He paused and took a breath before continuing, "What he wishes for is the same as I… To see the conjoining and perseverance of our dwarven people, and he longs to rid the world of the suffering that comes from the corrupt and inept."
The room now sat silent. It wasn't that everyone had come to an agreement, but that it was hard to speak in the atmosphere the chairman had brought forward. Nothing the chairman had said had been false, but he knew his testimony alone wouldn't have been enough to convince them all. He had something else up his sleeve.
"You seriously expect us to believe this tale of yours?" The General, still standing, made his rebuttal, "For all we know, Buldor is a dead country. I'd doubt that more than a dozen people even travel that far north every year. And from what I've heard, their entire country is buried within the mountains so that nobody can see it from the outside. Sounds like quite the convenience since nobody can really say otherwise, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Another spoke up, "You know, I can't see Buldor as being anything more than a dump full of heretics. What, are they paying you to talk them up?"
"Well-" The old dwarf prepared to continue stalling before he was cut off by the sound of knocking. Where a wall once sat was now a hole the size of a doorway.
"Sir, she's arrived." A mean looking dwarf entered before he moved aside to let the guest in.
What walked in was a large dwarven woman hidden behind a dirty cloak.
"Can I finally take this shit off?" She ripped the broach that held the cloth together from the cloak's front and the whole thing dropped to the floor.
"Welcome, welcome." The chairman rose from his seat and bowed, ignoring the fact that everyone else watched idly. He slowly brought his head up again and began to address the onlookers, "Congregation, I would like you all to meet Princess Alor Buldor, the current king of Buldor's older sister. She is our messenger." He wanted to add more to the introduction, but he wished to gauge the other dwarves' response first.
The clothes the princess wore were heavily at odds with what might've been expected. She had the appearance of a soldier; except the light armor she wore looked much more advanced than what the common soldiers of Anglest had equipped. Covering nearly every bit of skin below her shoulders were pieces of metal that looked like scales and they shifted effortlessly with every movement she made.
Her arms were massive, covered in faded scars and discolored patches where her skin had once been flayed. Her light brown hair was long and she was beautiful, if you could ignore the right side of her face that had been marred beyond recognition. She could only see through her left eye and prosthetic fingers lined both of her hands where her real ones had been severed. She also looked dirty and clearly had a layer of sweat covering her.
Unfortunately, she had been made the plaything of her demonic father years before his death. She had tried to poison him but was caught in the act. She was tortured for years and had been abused by more people than she could count. The only reason she still lived was because somewhere within the father she failed to murder was a twisted form of love that said he couldn't kill her.
Even though his 'punishments' would put her on death's door, he refused to let her die. However, on the Advent, when she woke up chained to the wall covered in her own filth like she had been for years, she underwent a transformation. She had heard a voice and was made a vestige of God. Her chains withered and she stepped into the daylight for the first time in what felt like forever.
The world she walked into that day was one that no longer bore her father. What stood at the bottom of the prison's steps was her brother, covered in their father's blood, who had run as fast as he could to set her free.
This woman had once suffered a fate worse than death, but like a phoenix from its ashes she had been reborn. However, her father's 'retribution' has taken a toll on her soul.
She was like a book that should've been judged by its cover. Unfortunately…
"Huh? This it? I was expecting more," She walked past the chairman, ignoring him in the process. She had been chewing something, but she spit it on the floor in front of the small crowd and sat down putting her arms behind her head, "What're you staring at?" She glared towards the only other man standing beside the chairman whose seat she had just stolen.
"This, uh… woman, is the princess of Buldor? And… the messenger?" The general looked down at the dwarf who stared back at him like a wolf does its prey. However, he didn't feel intimidated. He wanted to laugh. "I didn't know we were here to make jokes," He continued to look down on her as he approached her. He turned towards the old man, "What, did you go to the east district and pick up the first broad on the corner you could find? She's not even gifted; I can feel it. I already didn't believe in your story, but you couldn't have found someone more convincing?" He laughed, "And from the looks of it, she's had more than just one bad customer," General Ston mocked her, never once having considered the fact that everything the chairman had said was the truth.
However, as the general locked eyes with the chairman, the conviction he held wavered for a moment. The insults he had thrown had contorted the chairman's face into something that could only express absolute fear for what was about to come.
"Hey fuckwad," the Buldoran princess grabbed the general's attention, "Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up." Without warning, pieces of metal flew off her body and restrained the man, gagging him in the process. General Ston couldn't even react to the speed at which he was thrown down and bolted to the floor. Blood began to creep out from how tightly the metal wrapped his skin and he was lying face down in the dirt. A muffled scream could be heard from under where the princess' foot now rested.
"Let's get something straight, I ain't no fuckin' princess. My brother wants to play 'king' over in Buldor, but not me. If you're going to remember any one thing tonight, it's not whatever hollow titles that chase me around…" She stomped her foot next to the general's face and extended her control onto the stone room, shattering the floors and walls, "...It's that I'm the fuckin' strongest!" She yelled out. The room continued to shake, and hundreds of stone bolts began to form, encompassing every inch of space that surrounded this council's participants.
Each bolt came to such a sharp point that just poking it would've caused your finger to bleed. They inched closer, pushing the dwarves into a state of panic. They all tried to use their magic to defend themselves, but nothing was happening. None of them were able to seize control of a single piece of rock within this room. Or rather, they weren't allowed to. Not even the metal the dwarves wore on themselves were heeding their calls.
"M-my lady!! P-please!" The chairman shouted his plea, "I think they understand now, so I beg you to back down!!"
Alor gave the old man a slight glance and everything froze. The tremors stopped and the cascade of deadly stones sat still in the air.
"Hmm… I'm not so sure they get it yet. I mean, look at this one," She drove the heel of her foot into the side of General Ston's face, "He still wants to put up a fight."
"I-I apologize for his earlier behavior, and I ask that you give him your forgiveness. He is an extremely important member of our military and our plan going forward, w-we cannot allow him to be killed."
As the dwarves in the room held their breath, afraid to move and be impaled by the innumerable amount of spear tips that surrounded them, a small amount of the bolts made their way towards the immobile general.
They broke apart and formed thousands of tiny needles, and they inched closer to his body.
"Important, aye?" She took a closer look and examined his uniform, "I want you to take this to heart 'Mr. Important'," She began tightening his restraints and another muted scream came from his gag, "...I could destroy your fuckin' country in a heartbeat. I might end up taking your walls down someday if I get too bored," a needle approached his eye, "Maybe if that didn't suit my fancy, I could bring this place down from the inside. Oh, and the best part? None of you could do a thing about it."
A rock floated upwards into her hand and she slammed her fist shut. Dust rose and when her metallic fingers opened, a loud thunk came from beside the squirming general.
Like a soft torch in a dark field, a glimmering piece of crystal shimmered atop the stone floor. It was one of the most valuable gems in the world, and she had created it from a basic stone.
"Liamite. Your kings make crowns and fill it with this shit, don't they? I wonder how your markets would hold up if I decided to flood 'em with it," She had been standing, but she walked backwards and took her seat once more where the chairman used to sit, "That's only scratching the surface of what I could do."
She barely waved her hand, and the room began to fix itself into its prior state. All the floating rock rejoined the walls, and the cracked floors and ceilings reverted back to when she first walked in. The restraints on the general loosened and the pieces of metal attached themselves back onto her armor.
"I'm not here to play games and my time is worth more than what any of you could buy, clearly. Next person to run their mouth gets splattered against the wall and I turn the iron in their blood into a fuckin' necklace, you got that?"
The silence that had overtaken the room earlier was nothing like the silence now. The group now feared speaking up, as one wrong word could put their lives in danger. Even though her display was a rather convincing one, it wasn't just what happened on the surface that gained everyone's cooperation.
It was her aura, there wasn't any.
General Ston hadn't made a mistake earlier, nobody could feel a single drop of magic emanating from her. But they could still feel it through the floor.
Usually, if two dwarves fight for control over the same object, the stronger one will win. In the process, both of the competitors can get a general grasp of their opponent's strength by how much feedback and pull there is from the other side.
But with Alor, they understood in a moment how large the divide between them and her was. General Ston was the strongest dwarf in the room, and he had helped train thousands of gifted dwarves within Anglest's military. He was also the only one who truly understood how ridiculously strong this woman was, and he wasn't even able to feel a grain of that power until she had decided to unleash it.
It shouldn't have even been possible. He knew exactly who the strongest dwarf within his military was and they didn't even deserve to stand in the shadow of the woman in front of him.
Without even meaning to, like it was something that had been wired into his brain from the day he was born, General Ston rose slightly from where he laid and bowed his head before her.
Like a lion before its king, he couldn't do anything but fear how powerful she was.
As his forehead brushed the cold floor, he fixated on a single thing: The fact that this woman could 'actually' destroy their entire country if she tried.
With all Anglest's cities being made of stone, nobody could stop her from bringing them to ruin.
Usually, the cities are protected by dwarves that guarantee nobody can seize control of their buildings and bring them down, but they wouldn't even last a second.
"A-Alor- err, P-Princess Alor," an unsteady voice from the bowing figure broke the silence, "W-what exactly… do you want us to do?" The general's voice was slow, and every word was a battle to get out.
Even though the general was being compliant mostly through fear and awe, he had another angle. Her strength would be an incredibly important asset for his army and their defense if he could somehow figure out a way of recruiting her.
Instead of answering the general's question, she turned her head slightly towards the chairman who had hidden himself behind her. At her notion, he crept forward and gulped. Assuming she wanted him to explain, he began to speak.
Their plan was simple, and it guaranteed the survival of every dwarf that wished to be saved. Only the people within the room and a very small number of outsiders would be informed of the treason they were about to commit. On the day the Chosen invade Angleria, they would act.
"For now, though, we need to avoid suspicion. General Ston, if you can convince the supreme comman-, sorry, 'General' Krimm, to let you head the defense, we'll succeed without fail," The chairman spoke softly from his new seat.
In the past hour, the room had come to a unanimous decision because of Alor's strength. If the Chosen denied the terms they brought them, or decided to break them, she would act on Anglest's behalf and fight.
It was hard for Alor's brother, the king of Buldor, to convince her. But it was his confidence that swayed her.
'Without fail, the Chosen will turn you down. I assure it.' His words rang in her head. 'It's all about the long game. I've been told that the people you will be meeting are some of the most important figures within Anglest, and I need you to work with them if we are ever going to sate the unrest that resides between our two countries and unite our people.' The king tilted his head as he saw through his sister's denial, 'You're bored, aren't you? Your power has reshaped the decrepit country our father ruled, but I know you've grown tired of building. Rather, it's more in your nature to tear things down now, isn't it? You heard how Balkan, one of Anglest's largest cities, was razed to the ground and you've been yearning to get out there, haven't you?' The king stood and embraced his older sister. Even after she nearly single-handedly rebuilt Buldor, some people still can't stomach her disfigured appearance. Parents often shield their children's eyes so they don't cry and even some adults avoid her. 'Alor…' He squeezed her tighter, 'Go. Fight. You've done enough here, more than I should've asked of you. But I promise, this is the last thing. It's not as your king that I ask, but as your brother. It will bring our people closer, and you'll get what you desire. So, go. You'll find what you seek in Anglest. You might even become their hero…'
As Alor was lost in thought, remembering the last conversation she had with her brother, the conversation around her was nearing its end.
"Well, what about the two kings?" One of the voices asked the chairman.
"Yes… I do believe that to be a problem. I am without doubt that King Nurakheal would view our actions as treason, and well… King Haryon, he's a human so I doubt I need to explain that. However," the chairman raised his voice, clearly trying to express the importance of what he was about to say, "...that is precisely why you must carry out your duties as I have laid them out. It is not as if I wish to see our country bathed in human blood, but that is why it is so important that we get them to leave the capital. If we can get the humans to evacuate north, the Chosen can fly right over us and pursue them, leaving us untouched. However, I have no doubt that there will still be damage and those caught in the crossfire, that is why all of you must not fail." The chairman rose to his feet and turned towards the princess, "Princess Alor?" He asked, trying to get her attention, but she didn't respond. "Princess Alor?"
'Huh? What?" She snapped awake out of the daze she had been in, "What do you want?"
"We have Buldor's approval to use their name in convincing the humans to evacuate north, is that correct? Even if we informed them now, it would be too late for the humans of our country to reach yours if we give the Chosen no resistance. The trek is much too long, they won't even make it past the Halfling Mountains. Buldor would bear no burden in receiving our people and the Chosen would leave our country alone, putting the dwarven people's needs first."
"Yeah whatever, do what you want." She sighed, uninterested, before she stood up. "Like you said, I doubt they'll make it past those mountains so it shouldn't matter. Was one hell of a storm."
The chairman delighted in gaining her approval, but her last comment gave him pause, "Storm? What do you mean?"
"Heh," she laughed, "I guess you guys really don't travel up north that often, do you? Don't worry about it. Is everything settled? I'm heading out." She walked towards the wall she walked in through.
"W-wait my lady," The chairman stumbled after her, "W-when will we be expecting you back?"
She had walked with her back towards the group, but she turned around with a look of clear confusion, "Huh? I'm not coming back."
"W-what do you mean? How will we know if the Chosen accept our terms?"
She stood there for a moment before her gaze turned sharp. Her tone was mean, and she wanted to make a point, "Don't misunderstand me. I'm not your spokesperson nor am I your savior. I don't even agree with the plan y'all have made, but…" She was about to say something, but she trailed off. Her eyes became unfocused, and a certain memory had flashed before her. But with a shake of her head, as if she were saying 'never mind,' she opened her mouth once more, "I just thought it would be fun to see how strong the Chosen's leader is, and my brother talked me into carrying your stupid letter." She took a step forward and the wall turned into an open doorway, "Don't worry, they'll get 'this' without fail," She waved the large rolled up sheet of paper she carried before encasing it in a metal layer to protect it.
"B-but my lady," The chairman stopped her once more, "Please pardon my rudeness, but… you still haven't answered my question. How will we know if the Chosen agree to work with us?"
"Hmm?" She opened a pouch on her waist and popped something into her mouth. As she began to chew, she shrugged her shoulders, "Not really my problem, is it?"
She looked forward and promptly left.
As the dwarves watched the wall close behind her, they all decided to part ways. They had a lot of groundwork to lay and there may not have even been half a month left until the Chosen's army arrived through the windy mountains south of the capital.
With Buldor being hundreds of miles to the north, the only people that would've been able to make it there in that time would've been a gifted dwarf. Humans would barely make it half of the way in the time left if they departed now and there was no doubt that the winged invaders would catch up to them.
As the members of the group filed out of the room one by one, the chairman stayed behind. As the wall closed behind the final person, he decided to walk in circles once more around the now empty chairs.
After a minute or two of waiting, the wall opened from the opposite side of the room from the exit and the dwarven king of Anglest, King Nurakheal, walked through.
He said nothing and walked up to one of the empty chairs, turning it and sitting down. The chairman continued to walk in a circle until he ended up in front of his king where he himself grabbed a chair and sat in front of him.
The two sat in an awkward silence, waiting for the other to say something, until the chairman finally spoke up, "I told you so."
King Nurakheal didn't respond, and the chairman continued to berate him.
"This is where the road of your foolish ideals led to…" The chairman stared down the king who refused to meet his gaze, "You seriously thought we could become one people? Humans and dwarves? For over a century you've ruled from that throne, and all it took was an hour or two to convince the most prominent dwarves within our country to betray everything you stood for," the chairman shook his head, "I had the three richest men and women, all heads of noble dwarven families hanging on to every word I spoke. I had General Ston, thought to be an immovable brute, agree to treason the moment he came face to face with 'that' woman," he raised his voice, "You SERIOUSLY thought our two races could get along?! At the end of the day, even in the face of Buldoran hatred that's lasted since before we were born, dwarves will side with dwarves. Dwarves will trust dwarves, dwarves will fight for dwarves, and dwarves will die for dwarves. They should never die for someone or something else, and it was your stupid FUCKING ideals that led to the deaths of thousands of our people already. LOOK AROUND YOU!" he threw his hands out wildly, "Everything great about this country was made by dwarves! By US! Since the Advent, we've rebuilt Anglest's cities, we've brought upon a technological golden age, and WE are the only good thing about our military. Why… why in GODS NAME should we die for them?! Tell me brother, why should we protect these parasites that rely on us for everything?!!!!!" The king's younger brother was out of breath from his outburst. In contrast, the king sat silently and stared at the floor.
King Nurakheal was often regarded as a man of few words, but his silence was reflecting something more than just that. Now, he just didn't know what he should've said.
Over the past couple hours, the king listened in from his place within the walls. His affinity for magic is extremely high, however he never poured much of his time into becoming a fighter. Rather, he focused on how he could remove his presence so other dwarves couldn't sense him. It allowed him to move around without being found and he often left the castle unannounced on political matters or otherwise. The only people who knew he was hidden in the walls was his brother and Princess Alor.
King Nurakheal reached down into his pocket and pulled out a tiny gem. When the chairman looked down onto the floor, where it had once been, he saw nothing.
"It came up through the floor…" The king started despondently, "It must've been when she fixed up the room, she secretly sucked it into the ground and dropped it at my feet. She must have been saying 'found you.'"
Realizing the king was rambling and ignoring everything he had just said, the chairman grew irritated, "What now? You laughed at me, ridiculed me… You said the Anglestian spirit was strong, that no matter what I said these dwarves would never be swayed. Of course, I'm sure there are a lot of dwarves out there that share your sentiments. But… They're not the ones that rule this country, are they now? Money… Military power… Who cares how many common soldiers and construction workers agree with you, I just proved that the people with power, real power, don't. THEY," he pointed at the ceiling before back at himself, "...agree with ME!"
King Nurakheal continued to stare at the gem within his hand and he spoke from the heart, "It's barely been five measly years, and yet you've all let magic rot your souls. I remember a time before that, where we were all the same. Sure, us dwarves lived longer but what really separated us from humans? 'We're just shorter versions of them, for what they have in height we gain in years.' Mother used to say that, remember? I even took a human wife because I believed in everything Anglest stood for. I still do…"
The chairman's anger reached its boiling point, and he stood up, knocking his chair to the floor, "You're fucking insufferable, do you know that? You're a year older than me, one damn year and I would've been king instead of you. You've kept the peace for a century and that's led you to believe you're something that you're not. Don't forget 'Kheal, you're not a great king that's protected us all this time. You're just a stubborn man who's been lucky enough to not get attacked! You say magic's corrupted us?! You just refuse to move forward!!" The chairman pointed directly at the king, "You're hellbent on living in a world that doesn't exist anymore! First it was your wife, now it's magic!! Princess Alor and Buldor are the future! Her strength and Buldor's ideals are what our people need, not a miserable king who sits back and watches his people die. If I didn't have this connection to Buldor, we wouldn't even be able to do anything right now! So, 'dear' brother, I'm going to tell you what you're going to do," He walked forward and looked down at the king who had nothing to argue back with, "You're going to go up there, give your little speech, and get the humans to run north. I don't care how long it takes you to argue with that bastard Haryon, but you're going to do it. It's the will of the people!!" He threw his hand out.
The king wanted to fight back, to tell his younger brother that he was wrong, but he couldn't. He was too tired, nearing the end of his life he now lacked much energy to do anything. Nurakheal felt that he himself was right deep down inside, but he didn't have anything he could prove that with. He was just an old, dejected man who had looked forward to seeing a peaceful death until Balkan happened.
Instead of becoming a king the people now needed, he stayed the person he already was.
The king still didn't respond, instead he sank his head further. It was his sign of defeat, and his brother nodded resolutely.
"Good," the king's brother made his way to the exit, "I'm glad we could reach an understanding. If you would have disagreed, I would've continued forward some way or another. But now, we can work together." The wall opened and he began to walk through, "There's no ties stronger than the ones you're born with after all."
As the wall closed behind his younger brother, the king began to feel a certain coldness enwrap him. He had already begun to regret his concession.