Coundon, Coventry, West Midlands, England
“WHAT? That’s impossible!” Samsoon exclaimed at the dwarven general.
“No, it is not. The King suspected it, and had me check it out. It is true...” Samsoon bit his lip hard, drawing blood, and turned his back on the general. He was quiet and secretive, but at heart he was a warrior. He would not show any weakness to anyone, be they friend or foe. The dwarf left the room, headed for the room in which he and his friends had been staying. The streets outside were silent, and could not a single sound could be heard from outside the castle wars. Only two days after King Timetory’s death, the city was still covered in a cloud of dark emotion. The dwarves who stepped out of their houses dressed only in bleak, black clothing, although most of the citizens stayed indoors, afraid of walking on the blood stained streets. The army would normally have a huge celebration after doing something as big as driving the troll menace from their city, but instead they had gone straight home to their families and were adopting the same behaviour as everyone else. Even the many children of Vetsom had felt the loss of the King, and were mourning along with everyone else. The wounded stayed silent, wishing to let the spirit of their King rest in peace. Rhen had noticed how distant Samsoon was becoming, and it grieved her to see her friend so distressed. Her own hatred for the trolls had buried even deeper in her heart when she had seen the lost faces of the dwarven citizens. She found it hard to believe that the barbaric trolls had managed to pull together a force that had done so much damage to a major city, and knew they had to have had some sort of outside help.When he entered the room, Rhen attempted to spark up a conversation, but failed as she realised that his meeting with the General had probably not been great. Suspecting that the news had been something to do with either their presence at Vetsom, or possibly Samsoon’s missing parents, she left him alone, and wandered around the castle till she found Amie, who was in the darkened throne room. No candles had been lit within the room since the death of the King, and all but one of the windows had been blacked out. The one that still let light through was behind the throne, and cast a long shadow of the empty chair.
“What are you doing here, Rhen?” Somewhat startled that Amie had been able to tell Rhen had come into the room, she replied only after a few seconds of surprised silence.
“Looking for you... in fact, why are you here?”
“I...” Amie hesitated “I came because it is quiet here...”
“But, Amie, it is quiet everywhere. The city is silent,” Rhen replied, confused by the strange answer.
“Not to me it isn’t... It’s hard to explain...”
“Ok... I think we should leave within a few days Amie. The dwarves cannot help us. I do not want to keep Samsoon here for much longer to be honest; it worries me to see him like this. He is a quiet person by nature, yet his behaviour recently has been strange even for him...”
“Yes...However, I did get a chance to listen in a little on Samsoon’s conversation with the general...” Rhen shook her head with slight annoyance (she thought Amie really needed to learn the meaning of privacy), but let Amie continue, “I didn’t hear it all, but I did here something about who is to take over the throne-...”
“WHAT?! Damnit, Amie why didn’t you tell me earlier?” With this Rhen sped out of the room leaving a confused and worried hunter behind...
That night Samsoon turned uncomfortably in his bed. He was exhausted yet could not sleep as his brain would not be quiet. His head pounded, and even this severe headache could not put his mind off the thoughts that were running through his head. Eventually, he tossed aside the covers and dressed into his armour. He lit a single candle and glared at the parchment in front of him. The handwriting was obviously that of a dwarven scribe, and as he read, it annoyed him that he was only able to understand the dates and names on the family tree before him. Expecting never to come close to Vetsom, Samsoon had never learnt his own race’s language, and now it stung his mind to think of the numerous opportunities to learn it that he had wasted. Just then, the door flung open, and Samsoon reached for his axe. He was about to strike at the intruder when he heard a familiar voice.
“Samsoon!” Rhen cried out, a look of anger on her face. “What are you reading?” Before he had a chance to answer, Rhen ran past him and over to the wooden desk, examining the writing quickly. As she reached the last name, it explained it all to her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rhen whispered.
“I... I wanted to think about it before I told anyone...”
“Samsoon, surely this is impossible?” Rhen muttered. She re-read the entry in front of her. “Samsoon Urmon, Rhei ot Gkni Bacces Timetory.” It read in dwarfish. In the common tongue however, it read, “Samsoon Urmon, Heir to King Bacces Timetory”...