INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

KILLIAN LANGFELD

A heavy knock rounded on Orrin's door. His chambermaid, a yellow-haired and blue eyed girl from western Alagaesia, giggled as she pulled covers over her naked body.

Orrin sighed as he raised himself from his bed.

"I'm busy. Get one of my councilors." He called. The voice of his father answered.

"Now, Orrin."

Orrin bit his lip in anger and turned to the girl.

"Get dressed." He ordered. She nodded with distant fear in her eyes. Killian had gained a reputation for being a brutalizer. The girl was wise to fear the man.

She hopped from the bed, pulling her clothes together in controlled yet frantic movements. Orrin himself sauntered into his wardrobe, pulling a brown robe around his naked body. He went to his door, opening it to two crossing spears, image of Killian behind them.

"Let him through." He ordered dully.  The spears separated as Killian strode into Orrin's chambers. The girl rushed past them as Orrin caught Killian's red eyes follow her movements.
Once the girl was safely outside, Orrin offered his father a weak smile before planting himself
at the foot of his bed and crossing his arms.

His father never removed the mask: The man's face was hidden from eyes that would be disgusted by the horribly mangled and disfigured skin of the former King. His father wore a heavy black cloak, parted only by the jutting golden hilt of his sword. Wide shoulders hid underneath a similarly colored cape, and Killian's boots hinted ominously from the bottom of his form.

"What do you want?" Orrin asked finally, dropping his eyes from his father's baneful stare.

"Have you received word from your diplomatic party?" Killian inquired casually. Orrin gave his father an annoyed smile as he brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"Last I heard they were moving along nicely. It is troublesome to send messages, so I ordered them to only use three birds. This was the first I received." Orrin informed.

Killian raised a hand out from his body, folding the fine black fabric of his cloak as it revealed a muscled arm. His hand was clad in green silk, and he tapped his thumb on each one of his fingers, cracking old joints that protested loudly.

"You should have had them bring a mage."

Orrin scoffed.

"You put too much trust in magic. Besides, it would not do us well to send a mage with a diplomatic party. Doing so would even make human rulers nervous, so imagine the effect it would have on those Dwarfs?" Orrin smiled, relaxing his arms.

"I must admit, they are much taller than I assumed." Orrin finished with a wry grin.

Killian returned his hand within his cloak.

"They are not to be trifled with. The Dwarfs are much stronger that you believe. Stronger than us. Possibly even greater than the Empire. I have come to bring you this." Killian produced a scroll of paper, flipping it towards Orrin. Orrin frowned and caught it with one hand, undoing the red string binding it in the process.

"What's this?" He asked as he unrolled the parchment.

"A map. It seems our world is much larger than we first thought."

Orrin could see that.

He recognized Alagaesia, and the small islands surrounding the mainland . . . even the deep dwellings of Surda. But there were more landmasses, small and large, clusters of islands deep in the map's brown oceans. And Surda . . . the landmass seemed to continue until the bottom of the map. The words were in a different language, but pictures marked areas. As his eyes rolled down Surda's drawing, he saw images of men with the lower bodies of horses, stallions with horns, and ghastly banshees.

"A Dwarib trading map. One of the Twins was able to steal one from the creatures and then transmute a replica, returning the original without incident."

Orrin spat. "Magic . . ."

He hated magic. It seemed like a shortcut to true power. With that said, the  value of this map could not be ignored. A vast world was hidden before their very noses, and Orrin now held the key to the gateway. Orrin rolled up the map, placing it on his unmade bed.

"Can it be translated?" He asked.

"The Twins would need to travel with you to the Dwarib kingdoms to make a proper translation. That is, if a deal can be struck between our two peoples."

"Nasuada will not fail me." Orrin stated comfortably.

"You're a fool and more, Orrin. You should've been the one to leave."

"Watch your words, you speak to a King." Orrin retorted, but his voice cracked at the last moment.
A deep rumble was heard from Killian's chest.

Laughter.

"I speak to a foolish child. I have given you a very powerful tool. But how will you use it, I wonder?"

Killian moved towards him, thrusting his hand out from his body. Orrin ducked, falling forward at Killian's waist. A second hand went up into Orrin's stomach, lifting him so high in the air Orrin felt his feet lose touch with the ground. Killian caught him by the hair, wrapping silky fingers around Orrin's throat.

"You have no ambition. You must begin now. Hire merchant armies, hire shipbuilders . . . while the dwarves are distracted, we will pounce. Using their trade routes, we will plunder their own profits underneath black banners and ships as elusive as ghosts. Then, once the war is won, we will turn our attention on the Dwarves directly."

Killian dropped Orrin and turned his back on him, leaving the King to fall crumpled on the floor, coughing as air rushed back into his lungs. Orrin looked up at his father's silhouette with watery eyes.

"And who will do this? If a deal can be struck, I must return to Alagaesia."

"You will name me Lord of Surda, of the rebuilt House Langfeld. I will rule Surda in your stead, and it is I who will begin the preparations for the downfall of the Dwarf Kingdoms."

Killian left Orrin's room before he could respond, the door crashing shut behind him. Orrin pressed his arms against the floor, raising himself against the smooth stone.

This . . . this is not how I imagined it would be . . . He thought to himself.

Rays of sunlight peaked into his chambers, and he groaned.

Morning.

Orrin dressed for the day, the revelations Killian presented still looming in the back of his mind.