Chapter 157: Gorak’s Courting Advice

The heavy oak door to the Prophet’s administrative office shattered inward as the splinters of reinforced timber rained across the stone floor.

Elian sat completely still behind his massive desk.

The King of humankind rested his chin heavily on his hands, staring blankly at the ruined entryway.

Warlord Gorak ducked under the doorframe to enter the room. The Obsidian-Claw Troglodyte took up half the office. His bone-plated exoskeleton scraped against the ceiling. He wore his heavy Star-Iron gauntlet on his right arm.

Gorak had traveled from the deep-core sectors of Onyx Hall to the capital for the upcoming war council. He bypassed the strategic command room entirely to conduct a personal wellness check on the Prophet.

Gorak walked over to the desk, cracking the floor slightly beneath his immense weight. He stared down at the depressed, hyper-muscled human priest.

“The Sovereign allows us to govern our own sectors,” Gorak rumbled. His deep, guttural voice vibrated the parchment on the desk. “With that freedom comes responsibility. The Spiral requires its Prophet. You have missed three consecutive logistics summits, Elian.”

Elian let out a long, pathetic sigh. His thick, leather-like skin practically sagged.

“I am unable to focus, Gorak. The religious texts mean nothing right now. I brought her the finest mutated super-grains from the Obsidian-Terrace. I offered to personally plow her entire sector with the heavy industrial tiller. She told me I was ’too intense’.”

Gorak tilted his massive, armored head. “This is the female from the agricultural district.”

“Yes,” Elian groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Gorak crossed his arms. The Star-Iron gauntlet clanked heavily against his bone-plating. As the supreme juggernaut and a happily married warlord with a two-year-old child, Gorak possessed a very specific, ruthless view on domestic stability.

“Your strategy is flawed,” Gorak stated objectively. “You are approaching her like a starving scavenger. You are the King of the humans. You wield the industrial thresher of the Spiral. Stop offering her grain. You should be offering her the skull of a high-tier predator.”

Elian looked up, his expression miserable. “Human courtship involves offering security and affection. We do not bring people skulls.”

“Gulag rejected me twice even when we were occasionally mating” Gorak countered, completely ignoring the nuances of human romance. “She was a huntress. I was a broken commander from the old regime. I forged my Star-Iron gauntlet, walked into the deadlands, and dragged back the corpse of a mutated terror-beast to prove I could secure our perimeter. Then we produced an heir.”

Gorak leaned over the desk. The sheer physical presence of the Troglodyte was suffocating.

“If she rejects your harvest, she is testing your logistics. If she rejects your logistics, she is a bad structural investment for your bloodline. Move on. The Second Continent’s envoys arrive in less than a month. The world is coming to our shores.”

Gorak slammed his Star-Iron fist onto the desk, cracking the solid stone surface.

“The Sovereign built this empire, Elian. We are the ones who must defend its dignity. When those envoys step off their vessel, they must see the immovable Vanguard.”

Elian stared at the cracked stone under Gorak’s fist. He looked at his own hands. They were thick with hyper-dense muscle, capable of tearing through monster hide and once lead fourteen thousand mortals into absolute war.

He had allowed the mindset of a frightened laborer to cloud the duties of a Prophet.

Slowly, Elian stood up. He grabbed his heavy, Star-Iron holy symbol off the desk and clipped it to his belt.

“A bad structural investment,” Elian agreed, his voice finally losing its hollow edge. He rolled his broad shoulders. “I have a religion to run.”

“Good,” Gorak grunted. He turned and walked back toward the shattered doorway, ducking his head to fit through. “Clean up your office. Iron-Scale expects the full perimeter defense reports by nightfall.”

Elian and Gorak walked side by side down the wide stone corridor of the administrative wing. The open arches along the right wall provided a clear view of the northern ocean. The bioluminescent teal water of the Continental Moat glowed brightly below them.

Elian looked out at the water. “I need actual advice, Gorak. How do I take my mind off her if she permanently turns me down? I have to find a partner sooner or later. My lifespan is strictly mortal. I will grow old and die one day, assuming the battlefields do not claim me first. I need to secure my bloodline.”

Gorak kept his heavy gaze focused on the path ahead. His Star-Iron gauntlet swung heavily at his side. “I lack the context to understand your struggle. The process was completely straightforward for me. Gulag and I were already mating regularly before I officially began courting her. Your human rituals are overly complicated.”

Elian rubbed his temples. “Troglodyte social structures are terrifying.”

“They are highly efficient,” Gorak corrected. He paused at the intersection of the corridor and turned his massive bone-plated head toward the human. “You are the Prophet. You speak directly to the Sovereign. You should pray to the Spiral. Ask him how to acquire a mate. He designed your hyper-dense muscles. He can likely design a mating strategy for you.”

Elian stared at the massive warlord. “I am absolutely refusing to ask the Sovereign for dating advice.”

“Suit yourself,” Gorak grunted. He turned toward the stairs leading down to the lower levels. “My child is waiting for me in the central courtyard. I promised to show him the Ash-Forge Crucible and the new heavy artillery emplacements around the city. Keep your mind focused on the Vanguard, Elian.”

He descended the heavy stone steps. His massive weight shook the floorboards with every step. Elian stood alone in the corridor, looking back out over the ocean, heavily contemplating his limited mortal lifespan and his upcoming duties.

Elian left the administrative corridor and descended into the lower levels of the city. He walked until he reached the borders of the Obsidian-Terrace Hydroponics where the love of his life was working.

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