Part V: Political Intrigues
Chapter 3: Hacktor Demands War
And now let us return our sights to Hacktor and his father – still sitting in the King’s Library at Rhokki Pass – Hacktor’s ire was growing the more Baldur spoke.
“You say the kingdom has never been richer, our open borders never safe, our people never happier.” Hacktor growled. “I say it’s all an illusion. Why can’t any of you see what’s really happening? The trade imbalance is growing — and not in our favor. The more our people rely on blackwood — and that reliance is deepening — the more we become subject to the whims of the Derkka. And yet rather than do anything about it to protect you, somehow you think it’s wise to allow that scum free passage into our kingdoms – where they can secretly plot whatever mischief they desire? Are you really so blind?”
[Now it was Hacktor’s turn to be correct – I’d worked hard to make sure blackwood became viewed as ‘a necessity’ among the Drokka because, as always, you humans often confuse ‘needs’ with ‘wants.’ As for Baldur allowing the Derkka to infiltrate the Drokka’s homelands unimpeded – well that was just stupid on the king’s part].
Whether Baldur was angry that his son would question him so boldly or because Hacktor dared to speak the truth, either way the king finally let his emotions show. “Beware who you are talking to, Prince Hacktor.”
“I meant no insult, sire. I just…” The young knight backtracked before risking it all by revealing, “Father, I need you to know something — I have spoken to the gods at the Well of Wyzdom! The Spirit encouraged me to take action now by leading our armies into The World Above and exterminating those Derkka terrorists in their own nests!” And before Baldur could process what his son was saying, Hacktor continued, “Don’t you see — we can finally gain control of The Blackwoods, and perhaps even destroy Marduk Garrick too. Think how grateful the world will be to m-, er, to US!”
My god, Rhokki, can it really be this bad? Has Mirkir poisoned my son’s mind this much?Baldur leaned back, his eyes distant as looked at his son. “You must understand, Hacktor, when I ascended to the throne, our kingdom was on the brink of collapse. Endless wars had drained our resources and broken our spirits. I chose a different path—one of diplomacy and trade. It wasn’t out of cowardice but out of a desire to see our people thrive in ways beyond the battlefield. The wealth and prosperity we enjoy now are the fruits of those decisions.”
“But The Spirit sai-”
“Hacktor, never forget that The Spirit ONLY counsels war.” the king interrupted. “Is that really all that you want? Is that what you think the people want? I’d caution you to look at The Spirit’s prophecies for what they are — they only ever lead to heartbreak and misfortune.”
[Some thanks that is! Baldur, old boy, did you forget that The Spirit guided you at every turn?!?]
Hacktor sat with his mouth agape as Baldur surmised, He’s trying to process the heresy I just committed in his presence. And before his son could speak, The King continued. “There is more to life than war. There is more to wisdom than The Spirit of the Well. Every Kon-Herr has been tempted by The Spirit, but few have the power to resist. I did and it has made all the difference. And I’m telling you, out of love, that you too must resist the fruit The Spirit offers — for it can only lead to your doom.”
“But…what about…” Hacktor struggled, “The Blackwoods?”
“Blackwoods be damned!” Baldur grated. “Yes, The Blackwoods are important to us, but they’re not worth going to war over. Perhaps our people have come to rely on that resource too much and instead need to just use the gifts Lord Rhokki has provided to us in the deep depths.”
Hacktor’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried a new argument. “Father, I’ve seen our people grow complacent, our warriors soft. We’ve lost our edge. The Derkka are gaining power. War isn’t just about territory; it’s about reclaiming our pride and ensuring our future. We can’t let fear dictate our actions any longer. Sire, you are Baldur the Bold, the Kon-Herr of the Rhokki’s, and the high king of all the Drokka! Why not turn the tables on The Marduk and his Derkka finally get revenge on them for enslaving our people?”
A hint of sorrow shown in Baldur’s eyes. “You speak of pride and honor, but have you ever seen the aftermath of war, son? Have you heard the cries of the widows and orphans? I was only a boy when your grandfather went to war, yet I still remember the scars of our people from those dark times – scars that never healed. I don’t know what Mirkir and Haraclez told you, my son, but War is a tragic event and there are no ‘winners.’ I won’t argue that we must defend ourselves when attacked, and this we do with a vengeance. Yet to go to foreign lands and make war upon our rivals, yes even the Derkka, that, Hacktor, is to embrace evil. For if we do so, what makes us any different than our enemy? I believe that you’ve spoken to The Spirit – for you carry Krangor’s Mark. But I too have spoken to The Spirit and I will warn you again – The Spirit’s prophecies are seductive, promising glory and victory, but they lead only to ruin. I’ve resisted its call because I’ve seen the devastation it brings. I don’t want that fate for you or our people.”
“The faith requires that one day we exterminate the Derrka.” Hacktor was not to be denied. “You know as well as I that The Ragnarok will never arrive until our enemies are vanquished from this world.”
“Are you so anxious for the end of the world to arrive?” Baldur countered. He’s as bad as Mirkir – only Hacktor has the passion of youth behind his words as well.
“Do you pay so little attention to the commands of your god?” Hacktor rose from his chair in anger, getting ready to storm off.
At that Baldur’s own hackles were raised, but he placed a hand on his son’s arm to stop him. Sooner or later I’m going to have to show him that I am the king still. Perhaps I’ve been too nice to Hacktor. “I think we’ve said all we can for tonight.” And then standing toe to toe with a son who towered over him, Baldur warned, “You may go now, Prince Hacktor.”
Hacktor’s green eyes flashed with a fire Baldur had ne’er seen before. For a moment the king thought his son was about to strike him, yet Hacktor got control of his emotions, straightened his shoulders, and with the briefest of head nods, he turned and walked away.
The next time he may not leave so easily. How long before he dares challenge me in public? Needless to say, Baldur feared that moment would arrive all too soon.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 