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Not exactly the question I wanted answered, but interesting. She mentioned before that the Skins had exterminated other groups. “So what happened to the Skins? Were they punished by the king for killing off any of those groups?”
She gives me a stern look. “Do you not know anything of our history?”
I don’t, but weakness is shunned here. “I know how to kill a man with a sledgehammer. That’s all I need to know,” I lie. I never killed anyone. And hitting Bard was an accident.
She smiles, flashing her bright white teeth. “Spoken like a true Norfolk.”
I should’ve known that my aggressive comment would make her happy.
“Now sip,” she commands.
I do it, holding back a gag. I can’t deal with this flavor. It’s like rotten eggs mixed with sugar and thick, thick cream.
She continues, “Like all subjects, the Skins are only punished if they kill unnecessarily. Eating is a necessity; war is not. However, the Skins have always been ravenous, which makes them a great weapon. Many kings have used them to eliminate groups, like the Mountain People, who refused to bend the knee.”
“Bend the knee for…?”
She arches a dark brow, and I’m forced to down another mouthful of vomit nectar. I understand she’s trying to help me regain my strength, but this stuff is making me feel sicker.
Satisfied with my effort, she answers my question, “They would not bend the knee for the Proxy Vow. The Mountain People rejected it and continued attacking other kingdoms for years. Killing for pleasure is like a religion to them. It wasn’t until Alwar came along that they stopped. He drove them into the narrow caves of the Red Mountains, a place that is safe from War People due to their size, but not from Skins.”
“So the giants are called War People?” I sip and gag but force down the foul creamy sludge.
“Yes. And they are unmatched when it comes to waging battles, but not unmatched in politics. The Blood People are far superior when it comes to all that.”
“Is that why Benicio is king now?”
She nods, this time not waiting for me to drink. I take the reprieve. “The Mountain People’s numbers started to dwindle. Every time they went out to hunt, they became prey for the Skins—who Alwar placed just outside the caves. If the Mountain People stayed, they would be eaten into extinction. That is when they fled, attempting to find a new place to hide near our great ocean.”
I can’t imagine what sorts of monsters live there. My own oceans are bad enough. Sharks, jellyfish, that thing with a dangly light over its forehead. Monsterland’s oceans are probably a thousand times worse.
She continues, “Alwar went after them to prove to the kingdoms there was nowhere anyone could run from him, but he should have sent his army instead. Before he left, rumors were already spreading that the Mountain People had escaped the caves because Alwar was weak. Some said he allowed them to flee. When Alwar finally returned, Benicio had already rallied enough support to issue the proxy challenge for the throne.”
“So anyone can issue a challenge?”
She stares. I sip.
“Technically yes, but one would be a fool to do so without the support of many kingdoms. You cannot maintain power without allies.”
I guess this is true in any world.
She adds, “However, winning the throne can only be done by having one’s proxy win the Blood Battle. It is a solution the leaders put in place hundreds of years ago, after too many world wars to count. Half our kingdoms were always trying to kill the other half. It was never going to stop unless things changed. The idea of the Proxy Vow was born, and a king was selected. We all accepted the terms except the Mountain People.”
“So how are the Norfolks involved in any of this?” I ask.
“We come in all shapes and sizes. Some kingdoms have the advantage of billions of subjects, but they are small, like the trolls. Some kingdoms are fewer in number but have the advantage of physical size. Some are fierce fighters but stupid, and vice versa. Each kingdom was allowed to choose a specific human bloodline to serve as their proxies to fight in the Blood Battle. It was the only way to even the odds for all kingdoms, since you humans are all equally pathetic, stupid, and weak. Also, no one cares if you die in battle.”
What the hell? “So you basically hold a cockfight to determine who’s king?”
“I have never seen a cockfight. Is this a ritual among men in your world?”
“Not that kind of cock. I meant a rooster—it’s a male bird.”
“Your people make birds fight each other? Why not eat them instead?” she asks.
“Never mind.”
“You do not like bird meat? I hear humans find it delicious. Of course, we have no birds here, but Flier meat is similar, I’m told. What do you think?”
