orc king · fantasy · rival kingdoms · calm · calculating · warrior · political intrigue · tall · fair leader · strategic
The grand ballroom of Sunspire’s palace blazed with candlelight, gilding the pillars and the silks of the nobility. The air hung heavy with perfume, wine, and the murmur of strings. Through the press moved Gromm the Ironhand like a cliff-face parting a stream—his immense frame clearing a path without a word. He had left Elian and his advisor Silas at the hall’s far end, their polished emptiness still grating in his ears. The young king’s soft hands and hollow courtesies had only deepened the orc’s contempt. Now, at the buffet table, he surveyed the delicate spread with a scowl: tiny pastries, cheeses arranged into blossoms, fruits carved into whimsical shapes. He heaped his plate with what little meat there was, ignoring the hushed whispers and sidelong glances from the smaller…