Michael Clark
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Butcher of Gadobhra Chapter 500
🕑 Added 2025-05-11 17:49:53 +0000 UTCWe last saw some of these people in chapters 412, 414, 439, and 446. This is a catch-up chapter. I'll be posting another Bog and TR chapter today/tomorrow.
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Bronk was looking forward to a mug of herbal tea and a haunch of beef. It had been a long journey from the lands ruled by the Maple Priests. This was the twelfth day of his journey across the frozen landscape. He had leaped across icy crevasses, trudged through waist-high snow on the frozen tundra, and crossed the high peaks of the Ever-Frozen Mountains. He'd hoped to converse with the Cyclone that claimed the mountains as its home, but the Frost Devil was once again scouring the northernmost parts of the Empire searching for small things to hurl around. It was a vindictive thing, and angry that somehow the creatures of the conjunction had killed one of its kind. Bronk thought it was also a little frightened by the demise of Shurhi. It was hard to convince yourself you were unbeatable when the humans of the conjunction had destroyed his only slightly less powerful counterpart.
Unlike the other Ice Wizards of the Conclave, Bronk preferred to walk on his journeys. Contemplating the frozen lands gave him a further understanding of his spells and a better chance of calling upon the power locked in the icy glaciers when needed. Magical travel, even using transformation, was more easily noticed. A lone traveler in the wilderness was ignored, even if he didn't bother to cloak his movements using subtle winds and snow squalls. He also liked appearing unannounced with no flashy magic to give him away. It hastened negotiations when he kicked in a castle door and announced himself. It annoyed some of the other members of the Conclave, as he was often the last to arrive. He liked that and would sit and dawdle on the way, ice fishing for days. Arriving on time meant they expected you to be punctual the next time. Arriving early meant listening to all the gossip and chatter. Better to arrive late than early.
That was especially true for this Conclave, where the infighting and backstabbing would begin early and escalate messily until the final grand meeting at which a new leader would be chosen. There would be some mild backstabbing and political maneuvering in the years after that, but by and large, the makeup of the council would be frozen in place. Well, unless something extraordinary happened, like a war with the warmlanders. Wars were always messy, especially for the people fighting in them. Bronk preferred not to be one of those people. He made a large target and wasn't good at dodging. Enemy wizards and archers targeted him, fearing his magic or brawn. There were also the exaggerated stories of ogres eating wounded enemy soldiers. Bronk knew the stories were untrue. A hungry ogre didn't care who you fought for when their bellies started rumbling.
At the gate to the glacier-entombed Castle Zamhareer, he was met by a contingent of Rime Knights with pikes pointed in his direction. An officer with a large white mustache called out, "Who approaches the dread abode of the Conclave of Winter?"
Bronk looked around, making sure no one else was also on the road. Satisfied that the idiot was talking to him, he said, "If you aren't smart enough to get out of my way, I don't have a use for you. Move."
"Hold fast, men, and make him bleed if he approaches. By order of the head of the Conclave, Ortheus Frostmaker, none shall pass now that the Conclave has begun. Go home to your cave, ogre, and be glad of our mercy."
Bronk sighed. Rime Knights were expensive to train, but this guy had to go. Mercy? What were they teaching officers these days? He reached for the spirit of the glacier, who chuckled at him and waved. They were old friends. Unseen by anyone, a cold breeze blew around the officer, and he stiffened. First, his mustache fell off, followed by the rest of him shattering into chunks of ice. The Rime Knights, attuned to Ice Magic, felt him die. Without Bronk saying a word, they formed an honor guard on either side of the road, and two opened the large gate for him.
"Thank you. I'll make my way to the main hall; no need to let anyone know that I've arrived."
In the council hall, Glacia was screaming at Ortheus. Other members were lining up behind the two of them. He saw Callendis Maer a little away from Glacia, showing his support, but keeping his distance. One arm was in a sling, his face had a set of three angry, red claw marks across it, and he looked exhausted. Bronk smiled a little at the sight of him. Callendish was spending too much time in Glacia's bed. She was never easy on her lovers. Callendish was the only one who returned to her, making Bronk wonder if there actually was some attraction between the two. He'd have to take that into account in his future plans.
Ortheus, as usual, was resplendent in robes made of silk in various shades of blue and white, his impeccably groomed beard hanging down past his belt. Overall, the various players were where he thought they'd be, or where he'd told them to be. His entrance changed the dynamics of the room, as several people gravitated to him, greeting him politely and showing reverence. He grunted loudly, took his seat, and began eating the caribou haunch waiting for him. He might have surprised the Conclave, but no one surprised old Gelma in the kitchen.
Ortheus took in the sight of the ogre in his tattered layers of muddy wool and furs, and wasn't pleased. "I thought I had left orders to keep the animals outside. Someone needs to be disciplined, it seems."
"Bronk did that for you. Smear on floor, funny." His blunt words and sneer of contempt brought laughter to the room. For many of the Ice Wizards, Bronk was the epitome of brute force, as unsubtle as an avalanche.
"Not the only thing you smeared on the floor. It's as if the mud follows wherever you go."
Indeed, there was a set of muddy footprints from the gate to where Bronk sat. Mud, rock, and glacial ice were attracted to him, carried along in his many layers of rotted wool coverings. The ogre grinned happily. "Mud like Bronk. Bronk like mud. Friends. Bronk calls, mud, and ice come. Make Bronk strong." Ortheus shook his head in disbelief. But others in the Conclave agreed with Bronk. He had just boiled down to sixteen words the entire theory of Elemental Linkage and Communication, something other Ice Wizards had tried to do with huge volumes of jargon. And several had seen what happened when Bronk called for his friend, mud.
Glacia stepped out onto the floor, displaying her ivory curves only covered by a few wisps of woven cloud. The contrast between her beauty, Bronk's primal power, and Ortheus' refined dignity was striking. Each of them had roughly a third of the Conclave backing them, and Othreus felt his lead over Glacia shrink as some of his proponents shifted to Bronk.
The ogre yelled out, "Bronk wants vote. And sheep! Hungry!" The raw mutton came immediately; the minions with platters of meat and whole sheep had been stationed just outside the doors. The vote took longer. Bronk ate, cracking the bones for the marrow, then chewing down everything but woolly hides. His pants needed patching, and he enjoyed a bit of needlecraft in a quiet moment. With only a few glances towards those who owed him debts, he engineered a three-way tie between himself, Glacia, and Ortheus.
Before the next round of arguments could start, Callendish Mar walked onto the floor and cracked his staff on the stone, sending cracks out in all directions. His reputation had gone up immensely lately as word of his victories in the South had spread. Destroying an entire Arcane Collegium of Fire Mages was a legendary feat, as was his freeing of the great Ice Wurm from his tomb beneath the shattered sanitorium. The rumors that it was he who sent the Dragon to attack the Empire's teleportation system were growing popular, backed up by how he had ordered the Dragon to the far South to attack the Empire on its opposite flank. His star was rising quickly, and if he seemed at times to defer to Glacia, it was also noted that he was surviving and prospering from the relationship. Not something anyone else was alive to claim. This display of power caught the assembled Ice Mage's attention as he glared around the room.
"Brothers and Sisters of the North, we cannot lose sight of our goals! The Empire is weakened and consumed by internal rebellion. Our spies move freely, recruiting new followers. The Northern province has been reduced to a wasteland of deserted villages and starving peasants. Northguard, the shining fortress that held power for centuries, is a crumbling ruin, and its garrison is pinned within. We are winning, but delays will give our enemies time to regroup. We must not give them that time! We must strike at the last stronghold between us and Wolfburg and take it from the Empire. Rowan Keep will shatter like a patch of spring ice, and when rebuilt, will become the stronghold from which we strike deep into the heart of the Empire."
Ortheus saw the way things were turning. "And what of Gadobhra? How will you deal with that city and its ancient evil? Or had your careful plans not taken that into account? Do you think we can besiege such a city and deal with Rowan Keep at the same time?"
Callendish grinned, showing his pointed teeth. "Oh, Ortheus, it's so amusing to see how far behind you are. Why threaten an ally? Have you not seen the War Machines that our underlings used to destroy the border fortresses of the Maple Priests? Our rebellious cousins were not prepared for our new artillery. And where did it come from? Gadobhra! Anyone who thinks the Baron of Gadobhra is a loyal noble to the Emperor is a fool. The man cares only for gold. He disrupts their markets, upends centuries of stability, builds his own armies from peasants, and provides Winter with blessed artillery. We don't have to deal with Gadobhra. It will be the Empire that deals with Baron William as he marches south. Your envoys were idiots, threatening him when a few bags of gold could have made him see reason."
Taken aback, Ortheus hesitated. He had known of the victories along their border, but not the details. Callendish was showing a side of himself that Ortheus had not seen before, and the older wizard had to admit that his victories in the warmlands were impressive. "And I suppose you wish to lead our armies South again, draining our resources for you to gain another great victory?!"
Callendish bowed once to Ortheus, Glacia, and Bronk. "Not I. The assembled wizards have spoken. Only one of you three has the support to lead our forces and command the power of Winter. Sadly, it will not be you, Ortheus. You don't pay attention to the small details, you suck at strategy, and lack the killing instinct needed. Nor will it be Bronk. He is powerful, but how could he do more than walk in front of the army screaming one-syllable words?"
"NO! Bronk Smart! Bronk smash little warm men, eat them raw!"
Callendish rolled his eyes, Bronk making his point for in. "No, only one person can lead us, and I call upon Glacia of the Frozen Shards to do so. Under her leadership, Rowan will fall, and the North of the Empire will be ours! No more talking! Let us vote again, with conquest foremost in our thoughts!
Bronk obviously liked this idea. "Fight! Eat! More Fight!! Bronk follows Glacia!!"
The vote went as Callendish wanted, with Glacia taking more than three-quarters of the votes. She immediately assigned half the wizards to present to the army of winter, but in a surprising move, sent Bronk to the front lines to continue the squabble with the Maple Priests. It was seen as an intelligent move, taking a wildcard and a possible distraction from her coming campaign. Bronk left to take command of those forces, taking another quarter of the Conclave with him, along with most of the food in the castle.
Callendish found his days busy, unthawing more snarlfangs, negotiating with the Jotun mercenaries, and making examples of the few wizards who opposed Glacia and her ascension to power. As he'd expected, he would not be traveling South with the army. Already a successful general, she didn't want him sharing any of the glory. He stayed behind, ruling what was left of the Conclave in her name. She broke the news to him when she visited his rooms the night before the army marched.
Her visit was enthusiastic and resulted in him being tied to a bed of sharp stone shards with both shoulders dislocated. Her lovely, gloating face almost made him feel guilty about manipulating her. She was lingering to enjoy his pain. "I'm so sorry, but it looks like you won't be coming South as my second in command. I want you here, running the idiots in circles and sending me reinforcements as they trickle in. I'm sure you understand."
He sulked, defeated. Then tried to shrug, forgetting his position. After whimpering at the pain, he sighed heavily. "At least I can continue to read my book."
"Book? Always with your books. I should blind you so you can't read another."
"That would be a shame. I learned so much from this one, and I'm only partly begun digesting its wisdom. To think that this madman is wanted by the Empire instead of celebrated? But the Fire Mages knew its value and hid it away."
She spied the large, bound tome hidden behind a simple illusion. "This book? My, it does look interesting. By Damien Franklin, I've heard that name associated with one disaster after another. Thank you, Callendish. It's a wonderful gift."
"No! Please!" But she didn't listen, taking the book, not so much to read as to deny him the pleasure. With a last kiss and a punch to his kidneys, she left him. He managed to free himself a day later. His first order of business was to have Ortheus chained in a small cell at the bottom of the castle. The old fool was already trying to undermine him, and Callendish had learned a lesson from Bronk about paying attention to the small details. With Ortheus out of the way and both Glacia and Bronk off to fight wars, he could finally get back to his studies. The only thing upsetting him was the roar of the wind outside the castle, a constant reminder of the increasingly angry Ice Devil overhead. He was hoping to convince it to head south as well. It was still upset at the demise of the other windbag and wanted revenge.
Comments
MadRat
Thx for the chappie ๐๐๐
Duck_Giblets
Bronk, one of the best schemers of all
Engineer4God
Tank oo fur da chap!
Kensai
Damien Franklin, unsung Hero of the Empire. Yet another example of genius not recognized in their time.
