Skirmish (Bitrayuul): Council

Skirmish (Bitrayuul): Council

Follow along each week for Skirmishes of characters of the Orcblood Legacy Series. These are real events that take place during the story’s timeline but are not detailed in the book.

Bitrayuul slowly pushed open the heavy door and walked into the chamber, Tormag at his rear. Almost immediately, the meager shred of courage that he had mustered to get through the door fled upon the eyes of all seven council members boring down at him from their raised seats. But he took another step, then another, until he was in the center of the room. It was obvious that a few of the dwarven senators seemed to have grown impatient at his delay. Three scowled openly at him while another three showed indifference. In the middle sat Theiran, a gleeful expression on his face.

Beckoning the half-orc closer, Theiran raised his voice to fill the chamber—though no spectators were present. “Welcome, Bitrayuul and Tormag. This chamber be called to determine yer eligibility to stay in Tarabar.”

Bitrayuul swallowed hard.

“Normally, we would hear testimony from ye and yer allies. But that’s already been done while ye were restin’. Fer the purpose of this chamber, those who spoke on yer behalf were: Tormag, myself, and a petition signed by over five hundred of our own army’s forces.”

Bitrayuul gasped in surprise at the news of the warriors’ petition. However, he could see the three council members who scowled at him roll their eyes. 

Theiran continued, his voice still booming through the room. “At this time, any council members who wish to offer requests for rejection may do so.” He stared to his peers.

Almost immediately, one dwarf stood from his seat—though hardly rose in height. He was the most lavishly dressed of the group and had yet to remove his scowl aimed at Bitrayuul. “We cannot allow a beast such as he to live among us! How are we to know if he doesn’t plan to find our weakness and report them back to his kind?”

Upon his testimony, other senators stood and began barking words of agreement or contempt. Within moments, six of the council members were in a heated argument, including Theiran. After a long while of angry curses amongst each other, they finally settled and Theiran smacked the dias in front of him with his maul. “Alright! Enough. It seems we’re at an impasse. Three for, three against.” As one, all of the dwarves turned to the lone dwarf who had not partaken in the dispute. 

To Bitrayuul’s surprise, he realized that the reserved senator was female, though it was difficult to tell aside from the lack of facial hair. But it was her eyes that gave her away. They were not the usual beady orbs tucked beneath a furrowed brow like her male counterparts, but gentle.

“Go ahead, Myra. Speak yer piece,” Theiran instructed.

Remaining in her seat, the senator leaned a bit closer while looking at Bitrayuul. “How old are ye, half-one?” Her voice seemed sweet, though her thickened accent caught the half-orc off-guard.

“Uh . . .” Bitrayuul flustered. He did not expect such a question. “Sixteen winters, senator.”

“And where did ye spend those winters?”

“In a cave, with my mother and brother.”

“And Tormag?” Myra asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bitrayuul’s heart quickened with alarm upon missing the detail. “O-oh, yes. For the last few years.” 

“And what is Tormag to you?” The senator’s gentle eyes seemed to stare right through him. Her words were lined with sweet tones that made her feel welcoming, but her gaze felt intimidating.

Bitrayuul eyed the rest of the council, hoping his response would not spark another dispute. “He is my father.” Luckily, the news seemed to already be known, as none reacted. 

Myra leaned forward even more, her gaze piercing Bitrayuul. “I only have one more question, half-one.” She waited for a long while, scrutinizing the half-orc’s every twitch. Finally, she asked, “Why did ye save Theiran?”