Chapter 42: Consequences

Vina awoke from her feathered bed when the drapes were pulled back and a blinding light flooded the room.

"Good morning, your grace" Bowed her chambermaid

The little duchess rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She could still smell the smoke in her hair. It was a fragrance of sweet revenge, but a rather unappealing odor to the members of her court. Her serving staff prepared her bath and laid out her gown for the day in court. Another itchy black wool dress decorated with fancy baubles.

She fully expected the day to go just as it had before. A plain façade of governing her holdings by day, and running the streets by night. When the news of the dock fire reached her, she waved it off as a simple accident, but a set of intruders to her court, had a different opinion on the matter.

"WHERE IS THAT BITCH!" came a yell before the doors to the throne room were thrown open and an entourage of several humans entered. Swords drawn.

The housecarl lowered his halberd at the threat! His teeth gnarling like a rabid wolf.

"Leave this place! Now! Or I will cleave you in half, you pigs!"

Vina's interest was peaked by the intruders. She gave the men a sincere and amused grin. She couldnt remember the last time someone had the gall to enter the throne room to challenge her. This would be a special occasion. And she wanted to cherish this moment.

"Gentlemen, how can I help you?"

They were Sol Lancians of course. You could always mark someone being of Sol Lancian birth by their olive tanned skin, dark curly hair, and over zealous use of flashy jewelry. Once the mob entered the throne room, they spread out to better display their superiority in numbers. But numbers meant nothing compared to dwarves tempered by conflict and a rough and tumble lifestyle.

One of the men, wearing a long red wool kaftan and a brown fur hat with a silver gem and a pheasant's feather stepped forward. His saber dragging behind him. The members of court gasped at his boldness defacing her Grace's palace.

"You! You damn dwarven bitch! You did this! You destroyed my shipment, killed my men, and insulted me! You will pay for this!

The housecarl stamped his foot and swung his halberd over his head snarling like a caged bear. "Wretch! How dare you accuse the lady of your shortcomings! Give me the word, Lady Vina! Give your order and I will cut this southerner's head off his weak body!"

An icicle like hand was placed on the guard's shoulder. The housecarl huffed and puffed but took the gesture. He regained his composure and stood at attention. The Duchess approached the man. Her stature so diminished against the Sol Lancian she looked like a child staring at an adult.

"There is no need for these threats, sir. But your anger is not misplaced. Because it was me. I burned your cargo, I killed your men, but I didn't besmirch your honor. Because it never existed in the first place."

The merchant lord brought his saber up over his head and slammed it down. Striking only the stone floor. Like lightning, her dirk was drawn. It swiped away the saber and slashed the man's sword arm. Severing tendons with precision. Next she flourished her blade down to cut through his baggy trousers and cut the hamstrings of his thigh. All nonlethal strikes. Just enough to defend herself and savor the man's agony.

The silver hilted saber fell from the man's hand as he collapsed. His right side unable to move. He fell on his left knee and cursed at the Duchess when he found himself in a position as if he were kneeling to the Duchess.

Vina wiped the few streaks of blood from her steel onto the southerner's cape. She wanted to toy with him more. But given she was in the public eye. She made light of the scene. The Duchess turned back to her throne.

"Guards, remove this rat from my sight. Put him back on a boat to the South and be sure to seize all his property in my city. It will be compensation for interrupting the people of Blackstone Hollow and for wasting my time."

The Sol Lancian mob drew their blades and charged at the young woman. Two men cocked their sword arms back, ready to strike at the vile dwarf lady Vina didnt even flinch. Blood and gore splashed onto the marble. Their bodies twitched in the shock of it all. A severed arm lay still clenching its sword.

Beside the Duchess, a halberd's blade lay drenched in crimson and ready to shed more southern blood.

"Guards! Protect your Duchess! Leave these pathetic humans to me!"

Like the grunt of a bull, the Housecarl stomped before entering the frey. Halberd hurled over head, Rogal brought the down the polearm's fluke into the back of one of the men and dragged him back to the dwarf. His thick leather boot rested atop the wounded man's head. The bodyguard kept his sight locked onto the humans. He watched them gasp and wince as he applied pressure to his foot. Then...pop. Red juice leaked out under his foot.

Vina sheathed her dirk and took her seat atop the black and gold throne. She snapped her finger for her cupbearer to bring refreshments as the spectacle unfolded. A fine wine would be best for this display.

The humans yelled amongst themselves in the Sol Lancian dialect. Then they steeled their selves before the onslaught.

The Housecarl twirled his halberd around and slammed the steel capped rondel against the head of one man. With the axe blade he buried it into the stomach of another. The final man dodged the blade, swiped the strike away with his saber, and flourished the blade around into a downward slash to the dwarve's left pauldron. The remaining Sol Lancian was swift with his blade where Rogal was slow and heavy swinging. The human lunged his blade at the dwarf, side stepped, parried an attempt to be hooked with the fluke, and gave the old dwarf a slash to the helm.

Rogal swung his halberd down and caught the Sol Lancian's sword with the beard of the axehead. Emboldened by the well placed strike, Rogal's arms flexed as he pulled with all his might. The young foreigner took his blade in his left hand to brace the deadlock. He felt his strength give way as the ox of a dwarf was gaining the upper hand. His knuckles turned white and the southern steel blade bit into his fingers. He knew he was outmatched in strength, but he was still more clever than the dwarf. The man's arms went limp and he sidestepped away. The young man made a break for the door.

The dwarf warrior took his weapon by the haft and threw it towards the fleeing man. A long iron spike impaled the man's lower back. HE attempted to pull himself along the floor, but was stopped when a heavy foot stomped his back and the weapon being jerked back to its owner's hand.

Rogal turned to his master. He Gave her a bow. "Are you alrigh, my Lady?"

"Oh Im fine. A wondrous display as always, my dear friend."

"A thousand apologies for the mess. I shall clean it at one." Rogal said taking a wide step over a pooling amount of blood

"The servants shall do this. Go to the apothecary."

"I am fine, my Lady. Only scratches. They will heal"

"They shall heal best in the infirmary. Now off with you. Guards! See to it that the Housecarl is tended to. And clean my floors"