Dark Thane

Next, Tarn greeted the Daewar thane. The Daewar were the weakest of the six clans. Most had followed that visionary fool, Severus Stonehand, off into the blue, trying to reclaim the lost kingdom of Thoradin. The Daewar had long been the Hylar's greatest ally, but now there were so few of them that Jungor had been forced to recruit among the other clans in order to consolidate his power. Still, Rughar Delvestone maintained the traditional Daewar loyalty to the Hylar clan, and to their thane. Thane Delvestone was also a purist, and like most Daewar, suffered fanatical tendencies that clouded his judgment at times. Jungor had long ago learned to exploit those tendencies, and so the Daewar thane greeted Tarn with haughty reserve.

Next was the Klar thane, Glint Ettinhammer. Jungor didn't give the Klar a second thought. If the Daewar tended toward fanaticism, the Klar embraced it wholly and without reserve. After the Chaos War, Tarn had won the Klar's undying loyalty by unconditionally forgiving them for joining in the Daergar revolt, led by his mother and his uncle, Darkend Bellowsmoke. Their thane at the time, Tufa Bloodeye, had pledged undying loyalty to Tarn and Tarn alone, and his successor, Glint Ettinhammer, had renewed that pledge in the usual grisly Klar manner, by slicing open his hand and smearing his blood on Tarn's sword hand. Jungor had never even tried to woo the Klar to his side. They were a scattered, disorganized clan, anyway. More than half of them didn't even live in Norbardin. They still lived out in the ruined cities, preferring darkness and the constant danger to the light and safety of civilization. Jungor had plans for the Klar once he became king.

Tarn then greeted the other thanes by rank of seniority. Naturally, this offended the entire Theiwar clan, since he chose to bow to the suddenly resuscitated gully dwarf, Grumple Nagfar, before greeting Brecha Quickspring, thane of the Theiwar. Brecha was reckoned the youngest of the six thanes. Although no one could be entirely sure of the age of any gully dwarf, Grumple Nagfar certainly looked old enough to predate the mountain itself (as the saying goes).

Jungor knew that he could count on the support of Brecha Quickspring. The staff in his hand was hers; it had saved his life in the arena, and she had pledged the support of her clan soon after. Jungor suspected that the crazy dark dwarf sorceress might even be in love with him, and if that aided him in his efforts by assuring the support of the Theiwar, he wouldn't actively discourage her aspirations. Neither would he encourage her, as the thought of a Theiwar wife literally made his stomach churn. He had no time for wives or thoughts of marriage. When he was king, then he'd need a wife because he would need an heir to solidify Hylar supremacy on the Council of Thanes. But by then, he'd have his choice among the most powerful Hylar families. He could always deal with the Theiwar after he was king.

As for the gully dwarves, Jungor never even considered them. Few did.

Last of all, Tarn bowed to the empty chair of the Kingdom of the Dead. Jungor noticed that Tarn's gaze lingered perhaps a moment too long on that place, as though the king's thoughts were preoccupied with the dead. Glancing around at the crowd, Jungor noticed that many were now looking at him, and waiting for him to speak, or act.

A mystique had begun to surround him after he defeated Vault Forgesmoke in the arena. Without really knowing why, he had cursed his dead opponent's soul, speaking in the heat of his anger and his pain. Brecha Quickspring had built upon this incident by claiming to have seen the spirit of the dead dwarf bow in obedience. Dwarves who met him on the streets of Norbardin now shrunk from his scarred cyclopean visage, not out of fear, but from reverence. People whispered that he could speak to the dead and they obeyed his commands. Only a few days had passed, but already a cult had begun to grow around him. Its mistress was Brecha Quickspring.

After honoring the Kingdom of the Dead, Tarn sank into his chair. For a few moments, his chin rested on his bandaged chest. With a deep sigh, he then pulled himself erect and gripped the ornately carved arms of his chair. At his movement, Thane Rughar Delvestone rose from his own seat and spoke in tones rich with formality but empty of true feeling.

"The Council of Thanes welcomes King Tarn Bellowgranite home from his travels and adventures, and begs that he delight us with the tale of the honor and glory he won while abroad," Rughar said, then resumed his seat. Though the phrases were nothing more than mere formality, Tarn's face blanched when he heard the words "honor and glory." His will seemed to waver for a moment.

Sensing weakness, Jungor spoke. "I think the king is too ill from his war wounds to continue," he said, thumping his staff on the floor. "Perhaps we should reconvene when he has recovered his strength."