The Wealth of Kings Read Online Free
Author: Sam Ferguson
that they had to return to their work to fill the orders they had. The dwarves within Roegudok Hall had everything they could ever wish for, and all indicators pointed to an era of unprecedented prosperity under Sylus’ reign. That also meant that they were the largest supplier of goods for the settlements outside the mountain. Armor, stone, metal ore, and all manner of dishes, jewelry, and other fine goods were shipped from the mountain as soon as the goods were produced. The great quantities of goods upon the tables for sale within the mountain were only a fraction of what the dwarves of Roegudok Hall produced.
As the army crossed through to the other side of the market, the warriors turned off to the north, eager to corral their cavedogs and unburden themselves. Tonight the wounded would be cared for by physicians and healers. Those without injury would rest. The fallen would be placed in a cool chamber and prepared for their final rites. Tomorrow the mountain would halt its production. None of the miners would lift their tools. The craftsmen would abandon their work benches. All would come together to honor the fallen and begin the funeral rites. As busy as the mountain ever was, the dwarves could never forget to honor their kin who had sacrificed their lives.
Sylus turned and watched the army ride by him, already thinking about the morrow’s activities and what he would say during the services for the dead. He swung a stiff leg over his cavedog and slid off as the lizard bent slightly to ease his dismount. The cavedog then turned and followed the others.
The king made his way to a small building at the base of a grand set of stairs. Inside, a trio of body servants helped him remove his armor. He then left the building and ascended the stairs, winding his way up the spiraling steps cut right into the stone of the eastern wall. The way was long, and would be tiring to all but the dwarf folk, who were built for climbing up and down long tunnels in the mountain. The staircase was twenty feet wide, adorned with stone engravings and murals along either wall. Some depicted historical events, battles, coronations, deaths and births of kings. Others were ornamental designs created by the greatest of dwarven masters. The stairs themselves were hewn right out of the black mountain stone, polished to a high sheen and inlaid with gold that crisscrossed diagonally and glittered under foot as the great chandeliers above burned bright and cast their light down.
Thirty minutes passed before Sylus reached the top landing in front of the throne room. The landing itself was forty feet long and flanked with four sets of armor on display atop pedestals of solid gold. Each pedestal had the name of a previous king carved into it. Those kings were Sylus’ father, grandfather, great grandfather, and great-great grandfather. Sylus went to his father’s set of armor and gently brushed the left pauldron. He then looked a few feet beyond it and saw the empty pedestal that would one day hold his armor.
Sylus concealed the condescending grin that tried to worm its way across his mouth as an idea struck him suddenly. Would they honor Sylus’ armor even if it was dented and scarred from his battles with orcs, or would they recreate armor that would glorify his victories but omit the memory of the injuries and wounds that had come along with the battles?
CHAPTER 2
Year 3,711 Age of Demigods, Late Spring.
2 nd year of the reign of Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu, 13 th King of Roegudok Hall.
Al stood on the landing atop the spiral staircase leading up from the barren market in the main hall. His tired eyes were fixed upon a highly polished set of armor standing upon the fifth pedestal. The golden plaque upon the pedestal read, “King Sylus Magdinium, fifth king of Roegudok Hall.” Al admired the black metal the armor was made from. A silver and gold inlay was set in a weaving pattern at each joint and edge, and a mighty
As the army crossed through to the other side of the market, the warriors turned off to the north, eager to corral their cavedogs and unburden themselves. Tonight the wounded would be cared for by physicians and healers. Those without injury would rest. The fallen would be placed in a cool chamber and prepared for their final rites. Tomorrow the mountain would halt its production. None of the miners would lift their tools. The craftsmen would abandon their work benches. All would come together to honor the fallen and begin the funeral rites. As busy as the mountain ever was, the dwarves could never forget to honor their kin who had sacrificed their lives.
Sylus turned and watched the army ride by him, already thinking about the morrow’s activities and what he would say during the services for the dead. He swung a stiff leg over his cavedog and slid off as the lizard bent slightly to ease his dismount. The cavedog then turned and followed the others.
The king made his way to a small building at the base of a grand set of stairs. Inside, a trio of body servants helped him remove his armor. He then left the building and ascended the stairs, winding his way up the spiraling steps cut right into the stone of the eastern wall. The way was long, and would be tiring to all but the dwarf folk, who were built for climbing up and down long tunnels in the mountain. The staircase was twenty feet wide, adorned with stone engravings and murals along either wall. Some depicted historical events, battles, coronations, deaths and births of kings. Others were ornamental designs created by the greatest of dwarven masters. The stairs themselves were hewn right out of the black mountain stone, polished to a high sheen and inlaid with gold that crisscrossed diagonally and glittered under foot as the great chandeliers above burned bright and cast their light down.
Thirty minutes passed before Sylus reached the top landing in front of the throne room. The landing itself was forty feet long and flanked with four sets of armor on display atop pedestals of solid gold. Each pedestal had the name of a previous king carved into it. Those kings were Sylus’ father, grandfather, great grandfather, and great-great grandfather. Sylus went to his father’s set of armor and gently brushed the left pauldron. He then looked a few feet beyond it and saw the empty pedestal that would one day hold his armor.
Sylus concealed the condescending grin that tried to worm its way across his mouth as an idea struck him suddenly. Would they honor Sylus’ armor even if it was dented and scarred from his battles with orcs, or would they recreate armor that would glorify his victories but omit the memory of the injuries and wounds that had come along with the battles?
CHAPTER 2
Year 3,711 Age of Demigods, Late Spring.
2 nd year of the reign of Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu, 13 th King of Roegudok Hall.
Al stood on the landing atop the spiral staircase leading up from the barren market in the main hall. His tired eyes were fixed upon a highly polished set of armor standing upon the fifth pedestal. The golden plaque upon the pedestal read, “King Sylus Magdinium, fifth king of Roegudok Hall.” Al admired the black metal the armor was made from. A silver and gold inlay was set in a weaving pattern at each joint and edge, and a mighty
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