Page 92 of Savage Devotion
I fold both documents carefully, feeling their weight in my hands. Not just parchment and ink, but possibility and consequence, the transformation of private choice into public commitment.
"I need to consider this properly," I say. "Discuss it with..." I glance at Kaelgor. "With my partner."
"Of course." Thrakul nods approvingly. "Decisions of this magnitude shouldn't be made hastily. But remember—opportunity rarely waits for perfect timing."
Opportunity rarely waits.How long before opposition merges? How long before those who profit from conflict organize resistance to peace? How long before fear and tradition reassert dominance over hope and possibility?
"How long do we have?" I ask.
"Three days," Thrakul replies. "Then I return to the Gathered Clans with answer, one way or another."
Three days.Enough time to consider implications, to plan for the consequences, to prepare for whatever follows. Not enough time to eliminate risk or guarantee success, but perhaps enough to choose wisely rather than hastily.
"Very well. Three days."
Thrakul remounts his destrier with fluid grace, ceremonial banners catching torchlight as his delegation prepares towithdraw. But before departing, he leans down, voice pitched for my ears alone.
"Commander Vaelmark. What you've built here, what you've chosen, it matters more than you know. Don't let fear make choices for you."
Then he's gone, hoofbeats fading into darkness, leaving me standing in the courtyard with documents that could reshape the world and a choice that will define everything that follows.
Kaelgor steps closer, his presence warm and steady beside me. "Well," he says quietly. "That was unexpected."
Unexpected.The understatement draws a laugh from me, sharp and slightly hysterical. "That's one way to describe it."
I look down at the folded parchments in my hands, feeling their weight extend far beyond mere paper. The treaty represents hope for ending centuries of suffering. The marriage contract represents hope for protecting what we've built together.
Both represent the transformation of private choice into public commitment, the willingness to stand before our respective peoples and declare that unity serves better than division.
Forward or backward. Growth or stagnation. Fear or hope.
"Come on," I say, tucking both documents inside Kaelgor's breastplate, close to his heart where warmth will keep them safe. "We have choices to make and consequences to consider.”
13
KAELGOR
Three days vanish like morning mist.
I stand before the assembled council, leather ceremonial armor polished to a dull gleam, the ancestral weapons across my back feeling heavier than usual. Not from their physical burden, but from the magnitude of what they represent with the accumulated honor of every Ironspine warrior who came before, now focused into this single moment of choice.
The great hall stretches before us, an unlikely fusion of human engineering and Orc pragmatism. Stone walls bear both Vaelmark banners and Ironspine clan totems, creating a visual representation of what we're attempting to forge unity without erasure, strength through difference rather than despite it.
On the left side of the hall, the Orc delegation sits in deliberate formation. War-Binder Thrakul occupies the central position, flanked by clan representatives whose scars and ceremonial markings tell stories of conquest and survival. Their rust-red eyes reflect the torchlight, creating an impression of smoldering coals arranged in judgment.
They came.Despite centuries of mistrust, despite every reason to reject this unprecedented proposal, they traveled here to witness something that has never happened before. The binding of Orc warrior to a human noble, the formal recognition of a partnership that transcends species and tradition.
On the right side, human nobility clusters in precise hierarchies of rank and influence. Some faces show curiosity. Others barely concealed disapproval. Commander Heldrik sits among them, his expression carved from granite, radiating the cold fury of a man watching his worldview crumble in real time.
He won't forgive this.The knowledge sits heavy wtih the certainty that our choice has created an enemy who will spend whatever years remain to him seeking revenge. However, people must pay a price and burn some bridges to reach the far shore.
The factions established neutral ground. A circular space marked by symbols from both cultures, where the ceremony will take place under the eyes of all assembled witnesses. Where private partnership transforms into public commitment, where choice becomes a political statement.
Ressa stands beside me, resplendent in ceremonial armor that incorporates elements from both traditions. Vaelmark crimson and gold interweaves with Ironspine iron and leather, creating something entirely new while honoring what came before. Her dark hair is bound with ceremonial cords, some human silk, some Orc war-braid that catch the light as she moves.
Beautiful.The thought rises unbidden, accompanied by a surge of pride and possessiveness that I quickly suppress. This moment requires clarity, not distraction, no matter how compelling the source.
"We gather," War-Binder Thrakul announces, his voice carrying easily through the hall, "to witness unprecedentedunion. Not merely the binding of two individuals, but the forging of bridge between peoples who have known only conflict."
