I know it won’t be easy, but they’ll watch out
for me. I’ll be fine.”
Much older and wiser in the ways of the world
outside the gen, Lord Karthan grimaced and held his daughter closer. He had
chosen the best; that much was true. Fighting the fear of letting go, he
desperately hoped they would be enough. Knowing in his heart why he had
started down this path, he hoped that he, too, would be up to the tasks that
soon awaited him.
Chapter 4
– The Company is Formed
T he
council hall was filled to capacity with the combined might of all the elite warriors
from the various warrior groups as well as all the leader caste of the Kale Gen
when Lord Karthan and Kiria arrived at the entrance. After waiting for Khazak
Mail Fist to give the command and for the room to fall silent, Lord Karthan
stepped into the chamber. The assembled elite warriors and council members all
rose at his entrance. Behind him, Kiria waited until the warriors were on
their feet and focused on her father before walking inconspicuously to the Lore
Master’s minions’ table.
Lord Karthan reached his large stone seat and sat
down. Next to his throne, Khazak Mail Fist’s voice boomed, “Take seats!”
Almost as one, everyone in the chamber sat down. Nodding to Lord Karthan, the
chamberlain also sat, an imposing look on his face as a warning to all to not
speak out of turn.
Lord Karthan’s throne sat on a large stone stand.
On either side of it, the two quarter-circle tables where the twenty and four
council members sat spread out like arms to encompass the center of the floor.
On Lord Karthan’s left were the warrior council members, current and former
leaders of the warrior groups of the gen. On his right were the functional
council members, each of them having a different and highly specialized
function. Closest to him on his right was the Keeper of the Treasury, and next
to him was the oldest of them all, the Lore Master, followed by the Chief of
the Ambassadors. Down the table from them in succession were the lesser
councilors; the Keeper of the Caverns of Instruction, the Chief of Medicines
and Surgeries, the Herb Master, and such. In the center of the floor, just in
front of the line of former yearlings, a large brazier full of red-hot coals
had been placed. Stuck deep into the coals were three long branding irons.
“Welcome, leaders of the gen,” Lord Karthan
started in a loud, commanding voice. “We are gathered here today to witness
the Branding Ceremony for these, the newest warriors of our gen,” Lord Karthan
indicated the group of young kobolds standing in a line in front of him, “and
to prepare them with what they will need from the council.” Throughout the
hall, his voice echoed as he paused to survey the crowd. The discipline of
this group was complete. Not even the occasional cough or whisper could be
perceived.
“I trust that all is in order,” Lord Karthan
asked, looking down at the chamberlain. Khazak Mail Fist nodded his head.
“Then I shall begin the branding ceremony.”
Lord Karthan stood and walked down past the line
of kobolds to the brazier. Choosing one of the branding irons out of the fire,
Lord Karthan turned and faced the assembled crowd. “Since the beginning, our
males have born the marks of the gen upon their chests, both as symbols of
pride and as a token in battle, that friend might know friend from foe. Today,
with this branding iron, I continue this tradition. Durik,” he said, turning
to face the newest leader caste, “receive now the Mark of the Leader Caste.”
Durik looked his lord straight in the eyes as Lord
Karthan grabbed him by the shoulder with one hand and pressed the red-hot
branding iron against Durik’s chest, rolling it a bit both upwards and
downwards to burn away the roots of the uniquely bronze scales that made Durik
different from all other kobolds in this gen. Durik struggled desperately to
not scream
for me. I’ll be fine.”
Much older and wiser in the ways of the world
outside the gen, Lord Karthan grimaced and held his daughter closer. He had
chosen the best; that much was true. Fighting the fear of letting go, he
desperately hoped they would be enough. Knowing in his heart why he had
started down this path, he hoped that he, too, would be up to the tasks that
soon awaited him.
Chapter 4
– The Company is Formed
T he
council hall was filled to capacity with the combined might of all the elite warriors
from the various warrior groups as well as all the leader caste of the Kale Gen
when Lord Karthan and Kiria arrived at the entrance. After waiting for Khazak
Mail Fist to give the command and for the room to fall silent, Lord Karthan
stepped into the chamber. The assembled elite warriors and council members all
rose at his entrance. Behind him, Kiria waited until the warriors were on
their feet and focused on her father before walking inconspicuously to the Lore
Master’s minions’ table.
Lord Karthan reached his large stone seat and sat
down. Next to his throne, Khazak Mail Fist’s voice boomed, “Take seats!”
Almost as one, everyone in the chamber sat down. Nodding to Lord Karthan, the
chamberlain also sat, an imposing look on his face as a warning to all to not
speak out of turn.
Lord Karthan’s throne sat on a large stone stand.
On either side of it, the two quarter-circle tables where the twenty and four
council members sat spread out like arms to encompass the center of the floor.
On Lord Karthan’s left were the warrior council members, current and former
leaders of the warrior groups of the gen. On his right were the functional
council members, each of them having a different and highly specialized
function. Closest to him on his right was the Keeper of the Treasury, and next
to him was the oldest of them all, the Lore Master, followed by the Chief of
the Ambassadors. Down the table from them in succession were the lesser
councilors; the Keeper of the Caverns of Instruction, the Chief of Medicines
and Surgeries, the Herb Master, and such. In the center of the floor, just in
front of the line of former yearlings, a large brazier full of red-hot coals
had been placed. Stuck deep into the coals were three long branding irons.
“Welcome, leaders of the gen,” Lord Karthan
started in a loud, commanding voice. “We are gathered here today to witness
the Branding Ceremony for these, the newest warriors of our gen,” Lord Karthan
indicated the group of young kobolds standing in a line in front of him, “and
to prepare them with what they will need from the council.” Throughout the
hall, his voice echoed as he paused to survey the crowd. The discipline of
this group was complete. Not even the occasional cough or whisper could be
perceived.
“I trust that all is in order,” Lord Karthan
asked, looking down at the chamberlain. Khazak Mail Fist nodded his head.
“Then I shall begin the branding ceremony.”
Lord Karthan stood and walked down past the line
of kobolds to the brazier. Choosing one of the branding irons out of the fire,
Lord Karthan turned and faced the assembled crowd. “Since the beginning, our
males have born the marks of the gen upon their chests, both as symbols of
pride and as a token in battle, that friend might know friend from foe. Today,
with this branding iron, I continue this tradition. Durik,” he said, turning
to face the newest leader caste, “receive now the Mark of the Leader Caste.”
Durik looked his lord straight in the eyes as Lord
Karthan grabbed him by the shoulder with one hand and pressed the red-hot
branding iron against Durik’s chest, rolling it a bit both upwards and
downwards to burn away the roots of the uniquely bronze scales that made Durik
different from all other kobolds in this gen. Durik struggled desperately to
not scream
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