The Last Great King of Garelim
By James D. Swinney
*Group 2, Quotes 1, 3, 4, and 5
“Rejoice, my people.” Acingo’s voice called across the open plains, roaring mightily in the ears of the people like the song of thunder. “Rejoice, O people of Garelim, you proud warriors and mighty men. Rejoice, for the treachery and deceit of our foes shall soon meet its end!”
A thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd, some two-hundred thousand soldiers, not even including the pages and helpers and whores and general hangers-on. It swept through the camp like wind, making the city of tents to shudder and the flags to wave with pride, resonating in the ears of king and cook alike.
“The men of Enani—if even they can be called such a thing!—we have driven back far beyond their ancestral borders. Their fields and their homes we have burned in our wake. This once rich and prosperous land we have now left desolate, a scorched and barren desert where not even the grass will deign to grow. Such is the price of betraying the men of Garelim!”
Another roar of approval from the crowd. Acingo had them by their throats, Almaya knew. Her brother had always been a masterful speaker, more than capable of stirring a people to battle, even when they knew there was little hope. In this case, however, with victory almost a certainty, Acingo spoke with ease. It did not take much to get them riled up!
“Now there is nothing to stand between us and the army of Enani, whatever is left of it now. We must have beaten them senseless, for they would have to be without even their meager wits to attempt standing and fighting us! Look around you, men, see the lust for blood in the eyes of your comrades. Men from every village, every town, every farm and every city in Garelim; you have come together to fight this day on the fields of our enemies. Now, take up arms and armor! Look to your friends and brothers for support! This day we will repay the swine of Enani for their sins!
“This will be the day when the blood of Contaen is avenged!”
With these last words came a flood of shouts so loud, so ear splitting, so mind-numbingly loud that it must have been heard in Ticaria, thousands of leagues to the south. The very earth of the camp shook beneath the stomping feet of the mightiest army Garelim had ever fielded. Two hundred-thousand warriors, as well as even more cooks, wives, children, and whores chanted the name of Acingorior, the warrior-king who would bring Enani to its knees. He would make good on a promise more than a century old. He would avenge the death of his great-grandfather, Contaen.
The mood was infectious, to say the least, and Almaya nearly found herself laughing and cheering with the others, swept up into the festivities that would follow. No matter the cost, Enani would be crushed, so it was a time to celebrate! This was not a day for mothers to grieve for their sons who died, or for widows to cry over their husbands’ bodies. No, it was a day for celebration, but still Almaya felt nothing more than disgust for the entire affair.
After Acingo’s great speech, those who had gathered disbanded, making their way to any one of a myriad of parties, feasts, orgies, and gatherings. She herself had nowhere to go. And so she went to find herself a lonely fire, one where she could drink her troubles away and go to sleep. She’d had more than enough of this business, and she wished that she was home, not for the first time.
“Almaya, Almaya, Almaya my dear, my darling, my sweet, my love, my Almaya,” Olnor said, standing near to her by the fire, nursing yet another drink.
“Fuck off.”
“But, my dearest Almaya! You cannot possibly understand the extent of my love for you, Almaya. Lord, your name is majestic, beautiful, and golden like the sun on a cold winter day, shining high above the snow. I must be near you, lest my heart grow cold and die.”
