Zakroti swung open the door to the dull steel plated carriage that had carried out the relatively short distance from his holdings to the Shadow Wroth. He hopped down from it into the frozen dirt of the high mountain pass with a weak sigh, motioning for the footsman to take hitch the horses as he shut the door behind him. He heard the neigh of horses from behind him as carriage was drawn forwards again and slowly faded away into the stables of the Shadow Wroth. The dwarf of a Drakken watched his breath turn to mist in the winters chill and wrapped his cloak around him to block out the biting cold and continued up towards the gates of the Shadow Wroth, glancing up and sparing a moment to run his eyes over the imposing structure in all it's ominous glory.

Here, Zakroti almost seemed out of place. At best, a Drakken of his stature should be serving as a man servant or a footsman to someone of actual note and power. Instead, he seemed to have reversed the position. He let a thin smile grace his face as he continued the line of thought. How had he achieved this?

Through guile and efficiency. And no small amount of brutality either, for that was not contradictory. Brutality fell under guile as far as he was concerned for fear was a weapon that the Drakken had used well. How else could one explain why the Gemminites were giving up so many of their young and beautiful girls each year? Yes, fear was an effective tool and it was one that he had seen work just as well when it was turned inwards; But like all good weapons it had to be used carefully. Plans had to be made carefully and followed through with surgical precision to get him where he was now and the same could be said for getting him where he wanted to go. Now plan was perfect but he had to get it as close to perfect as Drakkenly possible 

Taxing but doable... Provided everyone followed the instruction, which was by no means guaranteed. The Drakken loved to war and fight and kill and this meant they weren't always the best at listening to orders when said orders told them not to fight. He couldn't blame them; There was a certain rush when one was in combat, when one was leading a military campaign and the walls of an enemy city came crashing down. Yet he had learnt young that fighting was like drink; It was good in moderation but if one allowed themself to become intoxicated on it they would certainly come to regret it. Choosing a bad fight was like signing ones own death warrant and was not something he intended to fall to, he had seen far too many of the more impulsive Drakken lords waste their power by making such a mistake. He was too patient and diligent for that

Zakroti gave a weak yet lingering smile; Yes, although this felt to him more of a chore than a privilege it reminded him precisely of what he had achieved; a runt saved from death only by the begging of his mother, who could have imagined that he would work his way so high. He could have some pride, surely?

[i]You didn't earn this[/i], a little voice in the back of his head piqued up as if to counter out his ego and destroy his short moment of pride. [i]You cheated. Your "achievements" are built off the deeds of others and knavish tricks. Do you really think you could have slain your father in single combat? [/i]

He shook his head suddenly as if to dispel the thoughts, chasing them from his mind and hardening his face again, refilling his mind with visions of grandeur as he composed himself again. Thankfully, a new voice came to force an armistice his mental war

"Milord Zakroti," The gruff voice of the Drakken Warrior before him echoed through his ears. Zakroti ran his eyes slowly along the speaker; A six foot seven Drakken wearing dull grey armour, emblazoned with his families seal. "Lord Nastaki was beginning to fear you had abandoned your duty." The warrior gave a wry smile and Zakroti returned it as an empty gesture

"We could hardly go as the crow flies. Has Lord Nastaki selected the bride for me? Or will I at least get some say in the process?" Zakroti said with a bitterness in his voice. It would be like his grandfather to make an arbitrary imposition to spite the boy. The Warrior tilted his head slightly

"Not precisely. He has selected two brides for you." Zakroti paused for a moment; now there was a hint of annoyance in the warriors voice and Zakroti finally matched it to a name.

"Ah, Poxati, do not concern yourself. Perhaps next year you will have marginal importance, which will be a step towards taking a bride of you own." Zakroti's tone was mocking and he returned the same wry smile Poxati had given him moments before, much to the warriors chagrin. He opened his mouth to speak but Zakroti stepped past him and proceeded towards the shadow wroth without casting so much as a glance backwards. He had no time for that simpering fool, he wouldn't be surprised if one could crack Poxati's skull open and find nothing but dust inside. He cast open the doors and strode inside and past several more warriors, pausing slowly and glancing around the building.

Books could not truly do this place justice. The architecture was clearly Gem in origin and clearly served well as a fitting place for trading off beautiful brides. Zakroti was not sure whether to be impressed or irritated by its extravagance to tell the truth; It was a strange place.

The religious idols around the room made him lean towards irritation. The Gods had shown him not favour and in turn he felt no obligation to worship them; That was not to say he didn't believe in the gods. He believed that they existed and thus were worthy targets for his hate. As for the idols of Gem gods, he barely recognised them. In fact, he doubted he would be able to place a name to Vivari were it not for the link she shared with the Drakken Pantheon. He could name the others and their spheres but that all he knew. Although Zakroti had been close to his mother he had not been given any knowledge about the Gemminite Pantheon from her, for his father would have surely slit her throat if she had so much as mentioned the name of a Gemminite God or Goddess.

To be truthful, had his father not forced him to worship the Drakken pantheon, he doubted he'd know them either.

Zakroti slowly recovered and turned with no lack of deliberation and opened the wooden door before him, heading up the spiralling staircase beyond and up to the chamber in which he had been told to come, stepping through two door and coming out before his grandfather, Nastaki, who was standing behind a desk that was littered with various documents that he was idly scribbling away on. The room was still clearly of Gem design with graceful and flowing struts and small alcoves decorated with shrines or trophies, but his families banners hung down from the walls and on the balcony that attached to the room he could see a large ballista. In the distance, he could vaguely hear a high pitched wailing which he assumed was some poor Gem girl who had, at the last moment, attempted to flee her fate or whose new 'husband' had been rather... eager to get to business.

"My lord," Zakroti bowed to his grandfather. "I answer your summons." His grand father looked up from the letters and have him an icy stare, holding it for a few moments as if to put Zakroti into his place but he stood his ground before his grandfather until he finally broke the stare and nodded once, taking a step in advance.

"You speak like I'm sending you to the block; Show some spirit. Its about time you showed an interest in taking a bride and your exploits leave you far overdue for one. I've had two picked out for you..." The Old Lord paused for a minute before continuing in an even sterner tone, something that one would have initially assumed quite impossible "And do not wrought my meaning by giving them to you. If you would finally take my decisions for what they are instead of searching for some offence in every action, you would do far better for yourself." Nastaki said with a cocked brow, intense ice blue eyes watching Zakroti's every move and scrutinising him. The young Drakken nodded glumly in response and after a few more moments of staring him down, Nataski glanced to one of his honour guard "Lead Lord Zakroti to his brides." He waved dismissively as he returned to the table, taking his quill in hand and scribbling onto the letters again. Zakroti perked his head up slightly in an attempt to see what he was writing, his curiosity piqued, however the large armoured figure of a guardsmen drifted into view and blocked his gaze.

The guardsmen led him up the stairs and held open a door for him. Inside stood two young Gem girls, no doubt his brides. He heard the Drakken step in behind him and held up his left hand in frustration "I can do without the escort. You may return to Lord Nastaki." There was a grunt from behind him and the sound of the door swinging open gain, followed by plate metal boots stomping off into the distance.

Zakroti ignored the pair at first, reaching up and undoing the broach that held his cloak shut around his neck, taking it off and hanging it from a coat hanger in the corner of the room before slowly turning back towards his brides, scanning them up and down slowly in turn. Suddenly, Nastaki's comments about mistaking the intent became all too clear. The first of the girls was so small that she was a foot smaller than even he at the very least. She possessed a rather shy air around her and her nervousness was almost palpable. She was quite clearly afraid and he guessed she would probably do whatever he told her. She was pretty as one would expect from a Gem bride.
The second girl on the other hand, had apparently dismissed the notion of beauty; Her hair was unkempt and her skin was flawed; Where her dress ended he could see her unshaven legs. He ran his eyes back up her slowly and when he came to her eyes he realised that she staring- No, glaring- back into his with a look that could cut flesh.

Ah, at last he understood. One girl seemed as though she might be easy to handle while the other seemed as though she might be trouble. The intentions were now rather clear; He had been given both sides of the equation it would seem, his grandfather had been trying to give him a taste for it. It wouldn't surprise him if this was the case, Nastaki was far from a fool and Zakroti didn't doubt for a minute that he had planned this.

The short Drakken noble straightened himself up in an effort to appear taller than he really was and alternated his gaze between the pair as he spoke.
"We have several things to cover before the morning comes so let us get right to it. First and foremost, your names are?" He slowly folded his arms as he spoke, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively as he regarded the pair of them