The Wealth of Kings Read Online Free Page B

whole of the dwarven folk in Roegudok Hall and praising the fallen warriors. The tradition was sacred, heralding all the way back to the first king, Persais Magdinium. Al turned his thoughts away from the funeral rites. It was not something he could think about without feeling the sadness that accompanied such loss. He pushed on to the throne room, steering his mind to topics of commerce and trade.
    When he spied a group of dwarves seated at the long, wooden table in the center of the hall, he sighed. He had hoped that he would have at least a few hours of privacy before the others would come to him. He hated council meetings almost as much as he disliked the funeral rites. Of course, he didn’t mean to compare the two events, as one was so obviously worse than the other, but he couldn’t help it. Every time he saw the council waiting for him, it was almost as if he was preparing to give his own funeral rites.
    It wasn’t purely the weight and responsibility of being king that pulled his soul down, though that was certainly part of it. It was the lack of belonging he felt since returning home. Home. He wasn’t even sure he felt that it was his home. He had left Roegudok Hall seventy years ago, before his father had passed away. Though he had been the first born, Al had always rejected his father’s intent to crown him king one day. The smithing hammer that hung from Al’s belt even now had been the cause of a great rift between him and his father. A prince who would prefer a forge to a throne. Al had been the cause of much of his father’s worry, but Threnton had been there to step into Al’s position. In all the years since Al had left Roegudok Hall, he had only returned for his father’s funeral.
    Al looked to the table, seeing the new wood that held it together now and sighed. There had been one other time when Al had returned. He had come to ask his brother for the golden scale given to the first king by the Ancients. Threnton had not only refused, but had Al thrown into a pit and left him to die. The rebuilt table was a reminder of the battle that had occurred in this very room. Al had escaped from the pit, challenged his brother for the throne, and he had won.
    Had he known the extent to which Threnton would have depleted Roegudok Hall, he might never have left in the first place, or at least, that is what he would like to think would have happened.
    “Sire, we have given you the first week to recuperate, as you asked, but now we must convene. There is much to discuss,” Alferug said.
    Al forced a smile and moved to sit on the bench next to Alferug, his advisor in the ways of the Ancients, and a trusted steward who had also served Al’s father. Al’s choice of seat was met by four disapproving frowns. Al sighed and looked to the high-backed chair at the head of the table.
    Dvek, a silver-haired dwarf with bushy brows and narrow-set, dark eyes, was the first to break the uneasy silence. “Perhaps, you should take your seat at the head of the table,” Dvek suggested with a slight deferential nod.
    Al grunted and slapped the table as he rose back to his feet. He shuffled away from the bench and moved around to sit in the high-backed chair, scooting it clumsily across the stone floor toward the table. “Thank you for meeting me here,” Al said. “I know that protocol dictates we should hold council in the council chamber, but inasmuch as we are effectively reorganizing the court, I thought it fitting that we meet in the throne room.”
    Al looked up and saw that the painting of his father was hung over the entrance, next to a portrait of Sylus. From both the table, and the throne, Al would be in clear view of the two kings he revered most. He had hoped that the paintings would give him inspiration. However, as he sat at the roughly repaired table in the middle of the throne room now, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of their gaze in more of a scrutinizing light.
    “Yes, I believe the symbolic nature