Read Online Rise of the Blood Masters (Book 5) by Kristian Alva - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kristian Alva
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energy, he found clan leadership even more tiring.
Last winter, Skemtun tried to resign from his position. Unfortunately, he found that resigning as a clan leader is something easier said than done. When he went to the council to submit his resignation, the group rebuked him and refused to grant his request. They said that, as clan leader, it was his responsibility to preserve the peace and to support his clan. Skemtun argued his case, but it did nothing to change their minds. The council’s stone-like faces never budged. He couldn’t resign now, they said, not while the clans were still struggling. It would reflect poorly on the council.
And so, Skemtun was forced to stay on. He was stuck. I’m so tired — I’m tired of serving everybody around me. I want a change. I wish I could walk away from it all.
Skemtun plodded along miserably. He felt broken down, physically and mentally. Toiling in the mines, his responsibilities to the council—it was so much work. Everything was too much.
Of course, the past few years had been hard on everyone. Times had changed, and not for the better. The dwarf clans always had disputes of one variety or another. But the problems had come to a head five years ago, when their king was nearly killed by an assassin.
After the attack, Hergung became bedridden. Once a great and powerful king, he was now weak and ineffectual. Without strong central leadership, the dwarves fell into embarrassing public squabbles, and a fierce power struggle erupted between the clans.
The first signs of serious trouble started with the Vardmiter clan. The Vardmiters got restless, and they didn’t want to stay at Mount Velik. They became so displeased with the state of affairs that they abandoned Mount Velik completely, moving west to the Highport Mountains. Their move had disastrous consequences for the other clans.
“Those lousy, rotten Vardmiters!” Skemtun swore under his breath. “They abandoned us when we needed them the most!”
Skemtun shook his fist in anger but then calmed himself down by taking a deep breath. The past was over and done… but not forgotten. No sense in brooding about it.
Skemtun thought of the last five years, going over the events in his mind. Trying to make sense of everything that happened. The Vardmiter clan was once the largest clan in Mount Velik; at one point, they had more clan members than all the other clans put together. And now they were gone. No clan had ever left Mount Velik before. With their move, the worst clan schism in their history had begun.
Skemtun sighed heavily. Perhaps they deserved this. Perhaps they should have known better.
A strict moral code had always dominated life in the dwarf kingdom, and the rules were oppressive to the lowest ranking clans. The Vardmiters were the lowest ranking clan in their social order, so they were often treated poorly. Other dwarves dismissed them. Mocked and belittled, the Vardmiters were treated more like animals than people.
The other clans didn’t eat or drink with the Vardmiters, and they weren’t invited to community events, not even ones in which all the other clans participated. They weren’t allowed to marry outside their clan. The whole clan lived near the copper mines in deep, isolated caverns set in the bowels of Mount Velik.
It was rare that the Vardmiters had any physical contact with the other clans. Consequently, they couldn’t move up the complex social hierarchy within the dwarf kingdom—their lives were set from birth.
The Vardmiters suffered through terrible working conditions and received unfairly low pay. But that was how it had been for thousands of years. It was tradition. And suddenly, the Vardmiters wanted to change all that. The Vardmiters’ clan leader, Utan, was a passionate young upstart, committed to progressive change. Utan wanted to improve the living standards of his people.
Understandably, there was a lot of resistance to this type of radical change, especially from the
Last winter, Skemtun tried to resign from his position. Unfortunately, he found that resigning as a clan leader is something easier said than done. When he went to the council to submit his resignation, the group rebuked him and refused to grant his request. They said that, as clan leader, it was his responsibility to preserve the peace and to support his clan. Skemtun argued his case, but it did nothing to change their minds. The council’s stone-like faces never budged. He couldn’t resign now, they said, not while the clans were still struggling. It would reflect poorly on the council.
And so, Skemtun was forced to stay on. He was stuck. I’m so tired — I’m tired of serving everybody around me. I want a change. I wish I could walk away from it all.
Skemtun plodded along miserably. He felt broken down, physically and mentally. Toiling in the mines, his responsibilities to the council—it was so much work. Everything was too much.
Of course, the past few years had been hard on everyone. Times had changed, and not for the better. The dwarf clans always had disputes of one variety or another. But the problems had come to a head five years ago, when their king was nearly killed by an assassin.
After the attack, Hergung became bedridden. Once a great and powerful king, he was now weak and ineffectual. Without strong central leadership, the dwarves fell into embarrassing public squabbles, and a fierce power struggle erupted between the clans.
The first signs of serious trouble started with the Vardmiter clan. The Vardmiters got restless, and they didn’t want to stay at Mount Velik. They became so displeased with the state of affairs that they abandoned Mount Velik completely, moving west to the Highport Mountains. Their move had disastrous consequences for the other clans.
“Those lousy, rotten Vardmiters!” Skemtun swore under his breath. “They abandoned us when we needed them the most!”
Skemtun shook his fist in anger but then calmed himself down by taking a deep breath. The past was over and done… but not forgotten. No sense in brooding about it.
Skemtun thought of the last five years, going over the events in his mind. Trying to make sense of everything that happened. The Vardmiter clan was once the largest clan in Mount Velik; at one point, they had more clan members than all the other clans put together. And now they were gone. No clan had ever left Mount Velik before. With their move, the worst clan schism in their history had begun.
Skemtun sighed heavily. Perhaps they deserved this. Perhaps they should have known better.
A strict moral code had always dominated life in the dwarf kingdom, and the rules were oppressive to the lowest ranking clans. The Vardmiters were the lowest ranking clan in their social order, so they were often treated poorly. Other dwarves dismissed them. Mocked and belittled, the Vardmiters were treated more like animals than people.
The other clans didn’t eat or drink with the Vardmiters, and they weren’t invited to community events, not even ones in which all the other clans participated. They weren’t allowed to marry outside their clan. The whole clan lived near the copper mines in deep, isolated caverns set in the bowels of Mount Velik.
It was rare that the Vardmiters had any physical contact with the other clans. Consequently, they couldn’t move up the complex social hierarchy within the dwarf kingdom—their lives were set from birth.
The Vardmiters suffered through terrible working conditions and received unfairly low pay. But that was how it had been for thousands of years. It was tradition. And suddenly, the Vardmiters wanted to change all that. The Vardmiters’ clan leader, Utan, was a passionate young upstart, committed to progressive change. Utan wanted to improve the living standards of his people.
Understandably, there was a lot of resistance to this type of radical change, especially from the
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