Chapter IV
It was two days after the apparently misled adventure in the mines when the patrol reached the nearly reclaimed Stromgarde, and even then it was nearly going to be three days after the events in the mine.
When one of Galen's servants awoke from his much wanted (and needed) slumber, he was quick to growl and curse at the fool (or at least, that's what Galen saw the servant as).The servant quick brought forth his apologies for waking his King, bowed, and reasoned that a patrol led under a Lord of the Horse, who went by the name of Valorcall, had just arrived at the city gates with news of a mine richer in nearly every type of metal available, and with no occupants or laborers to battle it over.
Galen's attitude instantly went from minor rage to gladness, comparable to a child receiving a gift, when the words reached his ears. He commanded that in an obvious yell of excitement and glee that a robe be brought to him this instant, and the servant was quick to oblige, not wanting to see Galen's anger-stained face again.
Galen came down the ruined courtyard, which was retaken from the Syndicate in a great skirmish in the streets two months prior, and has been the benchmark in Stromgarde being close to its former glory under Galen's father Thoras, despite the fact that they did not have the resources (or the time…) to reconstruct the courtyard., and greeted the patrollers (Valorcall in particular) with open arms and a hug that could be comparable to a feral bear.
"Welcome, welcome!" he hollered, with a notable yawn between the two welcome's. "I am blessed to know that those that discovered such a fine treasure as this mine comes without a single scratch or burn!" The patrollers looked at each other with raised eyebrows, confused as to how their King knew they had no casualties – there are thousands of patrols going throughout the streets, and they were certain that the servant that ran up the courtyard stairs into Galen's quarters did not know as well. They shrugged it off, not really making a difference.
Galen wiped some spit from his lips midway through his second welcome and treasure, and between the blood-shot eyes and the circles under his eyes, the patrollers began to realize more and more that their King was exhausted, and should get to bed ASAP. But they didn't speak of it (or at least to him), for they remembered that Galen, much like his father, was quicker to temper than a mother bear protecting her cub.
"On behalf of my fellows, good King, I thank you for the welcome and thanks." Valorcall did his best (and his best would exceed one's expectations) to stay firm and motionless, no matter how tired and exhausted he was. And with the fact that he didn't move period, it's easy to say that he could be a statue if he wished (or asked).
"I must admit, Sir, uh…" Galen paused then, rubbing his chin realizing he had forgotten the Patrol Leader's name.
"Valorcall, My King."
Valorcall coughed then, to put act as a connection between his greeting and learning Valorcall's name. "I must admit, Valorcall, after we reclaimed the Courtyard from the cursed Syndicate" he paused, and spat at the rough-stone ground in disgust of the old traitors from Alterac "I was in fear that we would not be able to continue our war effort, for as you know – or should know – we lost as twice weapons as we did soldiers. And our iron and metal deposits were running low…dangerously low. But you and you're brave patrolmen have returned a light back into my heart! There is must be some type of reward I can offer…" he began rubbing his chin, and walking off a bit, thinking of what to offer Valorcall.
"My King, there -" but he got interrupted by Galen.
"I know!" the King said as he rushed back towards the Patrol Leader. "I will have a feast honored in your name and leadership within a week's time!" He walked off towards his quarters again, happy as a child on Christmas.
"My King, my heart could not hold the honor!"
"Nonsense!" he chuckled.
And that was the end of it.
To be blunt, giving the task of gathering enough food, drinks and entertainment for the thousand residents of Stromgarde wasn't just bold…nor was it ambitious.
It was crazy. Lucky for Galen, Stromgarde has been known for having a few loose screws.
And if that wasn't the case, well, the people of Stromgarde might of rebelled against him just for this enormous undertaking!
Lucky for Galen.
In a week's time, the soldiers and peasants pressed enough grapes into vine, chopped up and divided enough beasts, collected enough soothing vegetation and collected enough wood for bonfires to please five thousand guests!
And Stromgarde only had a thousand! Guess they really wanted to get drunk.
When the doors opened wide enough, and when the feast began, the eager crowd that stood outside the gates of the King's mead hall rushed in there like a giant horde, ripping part every chicken on every platter, drinking themselves drunk from every ale casket that you could lay your eye on, and chewed enough vegetation to numb an elephant.
Easy to see why they wanted to get so much extra supplies for the feast! They ate and drank like a bunch of baboons missing his tail!
Without a doubt one of Valingar's most memorable (if not THE most memorable) moments of the feast was when he convinced a group of drunken drunks (because there was no other word that could describe their loathsome state of mind more) to lift Guy off his feat while he was in the middle of wooing a pretty lass (both of which were drunker than a horse) carry him halfway across the hall, Guy kicking and screaming all the while, and throw him into a small pool where people were bobbing for apples.
"I'll" he hiccupped "get ye" and again "for" another hiccup "this" once again, another hiccup "Valingar, I swere on me" a record: four words before he hiccupped "ma's garve, I am." And he hiccupped one last time before being knocked out by a fat woman that was thrown into the pool and Valingar didn't help the poor man! He just took the chance to sneak out of the Hall so that he could visit a good, but old, friend.
Two slides under pig platters, three (and a half) body rolls to avoid bumping into a waiter, and a collision that resulted in a giant body up that fell like a bunch of dominoes later, Valingar managed to get onto the open streets.
Valignar never was one for directions of any sort in any city whatsoever, even if he had a detailed map and detailed directions. He trusted on his good old noggin to remember the features on where his destination was, and the twists and turns of the streets leading to his destination (and his noggin isn't at all that good with remembering things either).
Of course, the length of time it took Valignar to find the street varied from a few minutes to a whole day! Fortunately for Valignar (or sheer luck…) he found his friend's home soon enough.
Hid friend was one the porch, on a rocking chair starring into the stars sleepily, just like what they did when they were wee little things.
She turned to him as he strolled down the streets towards her house. "I was beginning to wonder when you would come, My Lord" she said with a sly smile as some of her black curls covered her left eye.
"I've told you a million times –"
"And one"
"Whatever – not to call me that Marilda" he said with a chuckle as he stepped up a torch and took his seat in a rocking chair next to hers. "Just, your Great Lord of the King of the Majestic Kingdom of Stromgarde" he mocked with a wide grin.
"Of course" she said long, with obvious sarcasm. "Great Lord of the…oh the Gods, I can't even say it"
"Heh, you always had a short memory sister." In reality, Valingar and Marilda weren't related by blood, but since they were two peas in a pod, as some people said, they might as well have been.
"What short memory?"
"Like how you're mother would have a fit now if she knew you were staying up this late when they are a horde of drunks trotting on the streets."
"Yeah, I guess she would have a fit." They remained silent for a moment, because Valingar had mistakenly rubbed a touchy subject
"How is your mother?"
Marilda sighed a little. "Sick as usual." She paused for a little while, tapping her foot like she always did when she talked of her mother. "But Father Siris says she may live another six months."
"That's good. How's your father then?"
"Hmm?"
"Your father" Valignar said with a little enthusiasm. Does he still smoke the old pipe? Or has he kicked the bucket."
Marilda nodded her head, defying Valingar's latter guess. "He' still complaining how he can't keep his daughter out of men's beds so she can keep her ma breathing."
"You know I would help if I had the resources."
"I never doubted you wouldn't."
"I know, I know. It's just…bah." He stopped then, and rubbed his brow. "Evreyone seems so helpless now. Like there's some current washing us away."
"You and me?" she raised her eyebrow, confused.
"No. Everyone is separated – us from Azeroth, Dwarves from us, Elf from man. We're all splitting."
"Don't worry yourself, Valignar. Stromgarde will get through."
He turned his head to his old sister. "At what cost?"
Marilda didn't want to talk about it any longer. "I don't know, and that will be the end of it."
"Maybe."
"What do you think will happen, old friend?" she asked, hoping his answer will silence this discussion.
"Hell". A few hours would past, and they would talk of happier times during that timeframe. But eventually Valignar would say his goodbyes, and they would hug, and Valignar would leave for his quarters and Marilda for her bed.
In a week's time, Valignar will go through hell, a strange exchange from the happiness of the prior week.