The orc chieftain looked at the dragon scales offered up by his throne. Oh, he knew that the wind elemental could easily kill him, but that was not the point.
It was about the right of the purple. It was about his birthright, about everything which could shove him off his throne if he was not careful.
"The fairy stays," he pointed at Lin once more, who was frowning up at him. "He drank from my cup. We are married now."
Rex the Orc had been a chieftain for a very long time. His father, Rex the XI, had died while Rex had only been a child. The young orc had to suffer through regents during the early months of his rule.
As soon as his limbs had become strong enough that he could crush all opposition, he had gotten rid of them. If Rex's memory served him right, then he had been about six and a half at that time. An age where most orc children were being given sticks and pointed at dummies full of candy.
