![[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny](/res/aob/book1.jpg)
that.”
“Why would such a one need soldiers?”
“Slaughter feeds his power. He thirsts for the blood that only war can bring.”
“Before, you said he wanted vengeance. Now it seems he craves something else. Will victory satisfy him?”
“If it’s accomplished by extermination.”
As a soldier, Kol thought killing was the means to an end, not an end itself. He reflected that excessive slaughter squandered resources and was the mark of a poor commander.
Gorm gazed at Kol sharply, as if he had read Kol’s thoughts. “I know of your reputation with a whip. It’s said you once flogged a woman half a day. Wasn’t that overmuch?”
“An example heightens discipline.”
“Then the flogging wasn’t excessive. Othar’s aims aren’t either. It’s not your place to question his goals, only to fulfill them.”
“I never said I wouldn’t,” replied Kol. “You found the right man.”
“Even if Dar wasn’t the orcs’ queen, a war against them makes sense. They’re ripe for conquest. They lost their experienced fighters in this summer’s campaign, their halls are unfortified, and their slaughter will disturb no one.”
“I see your point. Why spill human blood when piss eye blood will do?”
“Why indeed.”
Kol took another swig from the wine skin, then wrapped himself against the cold. He relaxed, feeling that he could handle whatever loomed ahead. Accustomed to ruthlessness, Kol thought Othar’s objective was extreme, but not extraordinary. The Queen’s Man sacrificed six regiments and lost no sleep over it.
The following morning, the two men resumed their ride to Taiben. Gorm set a leisurely pace and related everything that had happened in the capital. Much of it was news to Kol. After the orcs revolted, he had been isolated from events. By the time he had stopped fleeing, he was already succumbing to infection. Afterward, Kol had heard only muddled rumors. Thus, Gorm’s news often surprised him. He didn’t know the Queen’s Man was dead, or that orcs formed Queen Girta’s personal guard. Kol was certain that some of the news had been obtained by supernatural means, for Gorm knew that Dar had recovered from her poisoned wound, though no messages had come from the orcs.
The travelers spent the night at an inn, where they kept their conversation superficial. Gorm waited until they were on the road again to brief Kol on the situation at court. “The royal steward’s our man, and he knows all the ins and outs. Be aware that Girta doesn’t trust him. It won’t do to seem his friend. Have you heard of General Voltar?”
“Yes, he’s infantry.”
“In exchange for certain favors, he’s going to make you his aide. You’ll be a tolum.”
“Tolums don’t lead wars,” said Kol.
“Then don’t remain one. Gain the queen’s favor.”
“You talk as if that will be easy. I’ve never even met her.”
“You live only because we think you’re useful,” said Gorm, giving his voice a menacing tone.
Kol laughed in his face. “And I’ll die if I prove otherwise? Save your threats for cravens. A soldier makes that bargain before every battle. Do you think that death by magic is worse than an arrow in the throat?”
“I’m glad you know the stakes.”
“I’ve always known them,” replied Kol. “So let’s speak plainly and save innuendo for the court. First, I must regain my health. I can’t be seen as weak. While I do that, gather intelligence. I want to launch my campaign knowing my adversaries.”
Gorm smiled, seeming to approve of Kol’s boldness. “I’m joining the court myself as a manservant to a count. As such, I’ll be nearly invisible.”
Kol grinned. “But not blind. Every woman has a weakness. I need to know Queen Girta’s.”
Dar’s new kefs arrived on schedule, but she didn’t host a feast that night. The onset of the memories from past queens had disoriented her. Their frequency increased until they flooded Dar’s consciousness. Some were
“Why would such a one need soldiers?”
“Slaughter feeds his power. He thirsts for the blood that only war can bring.”
“Before, you said he wanted vengeance. Now it seems he craves something else. Will victory satisfy him?”
“If it’s accomplished by extermination.”
As a soldier, Kol thought killing was the means to an end, not an end itself. He reflected that excessive slaughter squandered resources and was the mark of a poor commander.
Gorm gazed at Kol sharply, as if he had read Kol’s thoughts. “I know of your reputation with a whip. It’s said you once flogged a woman half a day. Wasn’t that overmuch?”
“An example heightens discipline.”
“Then the flogging wasn’t excessive. Othar’s aims aren’t either. It’s not your place to question his goals, only to fulfill them.”
“I never said I wouldn’t,” replied Kol. “You found the right man.”
“Even if Dar wasn’t the orcs’ queen, a war against them makes sense. They’re ripe for conquest. They lost their experienced fighters in this summer’s campaign, their halls are unfortified, and their slaughter will disturb no one.”
“I see your point. Why spill human blood when piss eye blood will do?”
“Why indeed.”
Kol took another swig from the wine skin, then wrapped himself against the cold. He relaxed, feeling that he could handle whatever loomed ahead. Accustomed to ruthlessness, Kol thought Othar’s objective was extreme, but not extraordinary. The Queen’s Man sacrificed six regiments and lost no sleep over it.
The following morning, the two men resumed their ride to Taiben. Gorm set a leisurely pace and related everything that had happened in the capital. Much of it was news to Kol. After the orcs revolted, he had been isolated from events. By the time he had stopped fleeing, he was already succumbing to infection. Afterward, Kol had heard only muddled rumors. Thus, Gorm’s news often surprised him. He didn’t know the Queen’s Man was dead, or that orcs formed Queen Girta’s personal guard. Kol was certain that some of the news had been obtained by supernatural means, for Gorm knew that Dar had recovered from her poisoned wound, though no messages had come from the orcs.
The travelers spent the night at an inn, where they kept their conversation superficial. Gorm waited until they were on the road again to brief Kol on the situation at court. “The royal steward’s our man, and he knows all the ins and outs. Be aware that Girta doesn’t trust him. It won’t do to seem his friend. Have you heard of General Voltar?”
“Yes, he’s infantry.”
“In exchange for certain favors, he’s going to make you his aide. You’ll be a tolum.”
“Tolums don’t lead wars,” said Kol.
“Then don’t remain one. Gain the queen’s favor.”
“You talk as if that will be easy. I’ve never even met her.”
“You live only because we think you’re useful,” said Gorm, giving his voice a menacing tone.
Kol laughed in his face. “And I’ll die if I prove otherwise? Save your threats for cravens. A soldier makes that bargain before every battle. Do you think that death by magic is worse than an arrow in the throat?”
“I’m glad you know the stakes.”
“I’ve always known them,” replied Kol. “So let’s speak plainly and save innuendo for the court. First, I must regain my health. I can’t be seen as weak. While I do that, gather intelligence. I want to launch my campaign knowing my adversaries.”
Gorm smiled, seeming to approve of Kol’s boldness. “I’m joining the court myself as a manservant to a count. As such, I’ll be nearly invisible.”
Kol grinned. “But not blind. Every woman has a weakness. I need to know Queen Girta’s.”
Dar’s new kefs arrived on schedule, but she didn’t host a feast that night. The onset of the memories from past queens had disoriented her. Their frequency increased until they flooded Dar’s consciousness. Some were
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