Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

"Great Giant-King, I, Harbek, pledge the allegiance of the dwarven race to the stoneheart horde. We are ready to serve."

In the vast hall, Harbek knelt, offering up a small, silver hammer with both hands. Among dwarves, the hammer was a symbol of one's station, a representation of their honor. In presenting it, Harbek was presenting his loyalty.

From his throne, Orion said nothing. He had made Harbek kneel there for a full day and a night. A dwarf who acted with such audacity needed to learn that the Giant-King's authority was not to be challenged.

The crushing silence made Harbek's bitter heart pound with a fresh wave of terror. After twenty-four hours on the cold stone, the initial storm of anxiety and grief had subsided, replaced by a dreadful clarity. He was finally calm enough to see his mistake. He had marched on the castle in a grand public display without consulting anyone, effectively trying to leverage the horde's honor and force Orion's hand. It was a grave insult.

Fear gnawed at him, but his resolve hardened. This is the last, best home for my people. I cannot let them become wanderers without direction. I will rebuild our race. I will give them security. They will not live in fear or as a lesser people. I am Harbek, an elder of the dwarves, and I will bear this burden.

He knew with chilling certainty that if the stoneheart horde turned them away, the other factions would descend like vultures, carving up the remnants of his people. Dwarves, with their peerless forging skills, were the perfect race to enslave. The thought of that future made him tremble.

"Giant King," Harbek said, his voice cracking but firm. "I, Harbek, am willing to sign a contract of servitude. I will offer my life and soul in exchange for your mercy and your protection over the dwarven race."

This was his choice, the consequence of his arrogance. It was also exactly what Orion had been waiting for. The allegiance of an entire race wasn't something to be accepted lightly. Without a true show of commitment, Orion would not have it. He didn't know Harbek, and unlike the blood elves, the dwarves had no ties of marriage to the horde. There was no foundation of trust. For now, the only guarantee of loyalty was a contract.

Hearing Harbek's plea, Orion slowly opened his eyes.

"Is your submission true?" his voice boomed, devoid of any magical pressure yet carrying the weight of absolute power.

"It is!"

"Will you obey the commands of the horde?"

"I will!"

"And will you bleed for the stoneheart horde?"

"I will!"

The three simple questions hung in the air, each one a hammer blow of authority.

"Then sign this slave contract."

A scroll unfurled from the throne and drifted down before Harbek. He took it, not daring and not wanting to read the fine print. He signed it immediately.

"The contract is returned," Orion said, the scroll vanishing back to him. Now, Harbek could be considered one of his own. "You have three days to settle your people. Then, you will assume the title of Stoneheart Warden and travel to Soaring Bird City. There, you will assist the Elder of Stewardship, Delilah, in the Four-Partite Summit."

The dwarven race had officially joined the stoneheart horde.

"Will you go?"

"Yes, I accept the master's arrangement!"

"Good. You may leave."

Harbek gently placed his silver hammer on the floor before the throne, then backed away respectfully and exited the hall. Only after he was gone did Lilith, who had been waiting silently at the side, walk forward. She picked up the small hammer and came to Orion's side. He gently pulled her onto his lap.

"The stoneheart horde has grown stronger again," she murmured, marveling. It felt like the horde was transforming overnight. The allegiance of the dwarves would make their war machine run that much smoother. Soon, once they were fully integrated, a new wave of superior arms and armor would sweep through their armies.

"The dwarves are only the beginning," Orion replied, idly twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

"Orion," she asked, "are you sending Harbek to Soaring Bird City so he can use his status as a dwarf to secure more benefits for us?"

"That's part of it. The dwarven race has joined us, so it is only right that we claim a portion of the defunct dwarven Tribe's legacy."

"But will the other factions agree? The tribe has already fallen."

"They will agree," Orion said with utter confidence, a look that made Lilith's cheeks flush slightly. "Even if they don't care about their old commitments under the Five-Race Alliance, they will have to give me some consideration."

He shifted her in his lap to face him. "As their king, I must grant them a place to settle, to give them a sense of belonging. But land is not given freely." He leaned in and kissed her, long and deep.

When he finally pulled back, he continued his explanation. "According to the laws of the horde, territory is earned with battle achievements. I am sending Harbek to that summit so he can, as the current de facto leader of the dwarves, leverage the last vestiges of his people's influence. The more benefits he can secure for us there, the larger the territory I will grant them. I hope he's smart enough to understand that."

Orion's gaze drifted past her, out toward the plaza beyond the castle walls, his eyes growing deep and distant. Lilith followed his gaze, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

.....

In the Silverwood Realm, the plague-ravaged part of the forest was unnervingly silent. There was no birdsong, no animal cries, not even the buzz of insects.

Sunlight pierced the canopy in sharp, shifting beams, painting the forest floor with a thousand strange and mottled shadows. At a glance, it looked as if countless phantoms were locked in a silent, desperate battle. The woods were grim, quiet, and deeply wrong.

ROOOAR!

A sudden bellow shattered the silence from deep within the trees—a sound of both warning and threat.

The inevitable had happened. The Plague-thralls had run into a Cyclops.

With a wet crunch and a heavy thud, a Plague-thrall was sent flying backward from the treeline, its chest completely caved in. A moment later, a massive Cyclops wielding a giant spiked club burst through the foliage, its single eye glaring malevolently at the crumpled creature.

The Plague-thrall landed in a heap, the sound of its bones snapping audible even from a distance. It was grievously wounded, but it still staggered back to its feet, letting out a guttural hiss and lurching back toward the giant.

At the same time, more Plague-thralls began to emerge from the surrounding woods, shambling forward to encircle the lone Cyclops.