Keeper Of A Warlord’s Heart

Part 1 - The PresentAlarick was patrolling the frontiers of Maud, nervous calloused hands twitching; sharp, unkind eyes scanning the fences and limits, waiting for a threat that never came.His stallion was huffing, trotting angrily, looking for trouble as much as he was. They made a formidable pair.His hands were bloody from the bear he helped to hunt, but the adrenaline was still pumping in his veins, fierce believers of an invisible enemy.The only threat to the country nowadays was the occasional ice bear and packs of giant wolves that plagued the villages closer to the mountains.No war, no battles.Alarick spent the last seven years making himself known as the scariest warlord to ever been born, and it paid in respect and fear from his enemies.He didn’t need to be here to kill these animals. His soldiers could very much deal with it. He came just for fun.Besides, he knew people liked seeing him around. It gave them the feeling of protection that he was very much glad to prov

After settling Severn and the whores in a wooden cell connected to the horses, Alarick ordered his soldiers to get them some blankets so they wouldn't freeze and went to gather some personal supplies from his own stash that he usually take on every long trip.He stopped at the library to warn his father he was leaving for some time.“Han zove uvek agus dur liga, como ele inide hulemi,” Randal said from his seated position on the big poltro.(He calls and you go, just like always.)The powerful stature and posture hadn’t left his father, though his hair was getting whiter every year, along with the sadness and despair in his black eyes. Alarick remembered this poltrone, it was his mamkka’s favorite.He shook his head from the memories, refusing to be caught in the same depression, refusing to look at the portrait on the wall beside his father.“Yimesilali asifelagi. Han neberi ha teria conhece nu ar. Dur fost iarraidh alehi,” he said, walking away from the comforting warmth of the plac

Alarick’s party arrived in the Temple of Cyndel with very low panic from the citizens. Actually, most of them bowed for him, and even said some Maudinian words of praising. Interesting, but supposedly expected since Cyndel was joined at the hip with Maud.The temple was a big building made to train druids and hunters, different from the ones where priests studied the old books.Alarick saw the people gathered in front of the temple moving inside, while some of them called Erriene's name. They seemed wary but trusting all at the same.Alarick watched a familiar figure walking from inside of the temple, and the afternoon sun lazily shone over the silver white hair.Those violet suspicious eyes narrowed over the amount of soldiers Alarick brought along, but Erriene’s expression and slight nod said he was already expecting it.The regal creature waited for everyone to settle with a patience Alarick didn’t had.Erriene was always so proper, so put together. The right rings on his long ar

  Alarick nodded slowly while Erriene trembled and tried to gather a little of his dignity. A troll invasion was more like a plague taking over than anything else. They were dumb, ugly, hairy creatures that moved around forests, and when they grouped together, usually to the command of a big leader, they went to the bigger cities to find food. That could be anything from bread to vegetables and meat. The more crazy ones would even eat humans, but it wasn’t their preference. Trolls could take over an entire country given the time and the right luck. They reproduced fast and the younger ones were ready to fight pretty quickly. It was unlucky that they caught the little villages because they couldn’t defend themselves. A city would handle it better. If the invasion of the land wasn’t contained fast, they would leak to other places and then it would be impossible to track them all. On the other hand, Alarick thought troll

    Back to the present… “Clay-brained orc,” Erriene murmured to the empty room. He closed his eyes and breathed one more time. Alarick’s scent was still in the room, making his head spin. A leathery smell, mixed with an animalistic scent. It had something to do with his confidence. Alarick had a presence that often muddled his string of thoughts. His figure much reminded him of Fourthly, the ogre that worked in the well who had a thick neck and broad shoulders like a bull. Alarick was built like a strong bull, but way taller than Fourthly. A giant. A young, reckless and inconsequential giant bull. It unnerved Erriene how tall he was, how strong he was, how he treated him like he owned him. Alarick wasn’t ugly exactly. Far from it actually. It shouldn’t matter to him but one may argue his strong jaw and straight nose were attractive, if one was slightly drunk. Or so he wan