Chapter 250: Help from Rudanavs Matriarch

Not just to their queen.

To their king-consort, who had descended into sacred darkness and emerged with salvation.

Pecah stood frozen, staring at the kaeram, understanding instantly what it meant and what his friend had inadvertently invoked by saving his mother.

Nami appeared at Jorghan’s side, taking in the scene with quick assessment.

“What happened in there? What’s that?”

One of the elderly faeries spoke without raising his head.

“Kaeram. The sacred bonding substance. He placed it in the Queen’s hair. He carried her from the ancestral chamber. By the oldest laws, by traditions that predate the kingdoms, by right of descent into sacred space forbidden to males—he has claimed her as mate and been blessed by the godmothers as king-consort.”

The fact that none of them resisted meant that they were completely obedient to the law. Not one of them raised their voice against Jorghan or argued that he was human.

Another faery added, “And by entering the sacred caves as a male, by walking where only royal women should go, the law demands he take the queen as wife. It is not optional. It is a sacred requirement, binding even if unintentional.”

Pecah found his voice, though it carried shock.

“Mother… he saved Mother. But the kaeram… the sacred law… Jorghan, do you understand what you’ve done?”

“Saved a dying woman,” Jorghan replied.

“Everything else can be sorted out when she wakes up and can actually voice her opinion on the matter.”

The elderly faery raised his head slightly.

“The Queen’s opinion matters, King-Consort. But the law is clear regardless of consent. By entering sacred space, by touching kaeram, by carrying her from the godmothers’ presence—you have invoked a binding that cannot be dismissed. When she wakes, she will understand this. She was raised knowing the sacred laws. She will accept what you have done, or she will not. But the bonding is real regardless.”

“STOP CALLING ME CONSORT!!!” He growled at them.

Jorghan looked down at Queen Emeralda, still unconscious, completely unaware that she’d been married while dying. Then, at the prostrated faeries who apparently believed he’d fulfilled prophecy.

Then, at Nami, whose expression suggested she was trying very hard not to find this entire situation hilarious.

“Seven wives,” he said flatly.

“I now have seven wives. And one of them is a species I’d never met until a month ago, married through accidentally touching sacred powder while performing emergency medical care.”

“At least your life is never boring,” Nami offered.

“That’s not the comfort you think it is,” Jorghan replied.

But looking at the freed prisoners, at their desperate hope that prophecy meant salvation was coming, at the unconscious queen who’d chosen slow death rather than defilement…

He made the same decision as before.

Roll with it.

Address complications when they arise.

For now, there were faeries to evacuate, a species to save, and apparently a prophecy to fulfill.

Just another day in the increasingly complicated life of Jorghan Sol’vur.

At least he was consistent about accidentally acquiring responsibilities he’d never planned for.

That had to count for something.

*

The journey back to Colloniel ruins took four days with six hundred faery refugees in tow.

Kaleth made multiple trips, ferrying injured groups while other faeries who retained flight capability traveled under their own power.

The evacuation was slow but steady, and by the time the last group arrived at the Sol’vur settlement, word had already spread about what Jorghan had done.

He’d eliminated an entire Scavenetore garrison. Freed hundreds of prisoners. Saved the faery queen from death. And apparently married her through a sacred tradition that no one had explained properly beforehand.

The last sparked quite a lot of buzz around the settlement.

The settlement buzzed with gossip, speculation, and a growing sense that their clan head attracted complications the way flowers attracted bees.

And some were shocked at the revelations that Faery had faced such a threat. They were revered for being the purest creatures of nature among the elves, but to see them in such a state made them sad. Even they weren’t aware of it until Jorghan brought them here. He saved them and brought them here.

Once again, they were given proof of Jorghan’s might and proved their decision was right in following him.

Jorghan stood at the edge of the construction site where Colloniel Ruins’s restoration was supposed to begin, looking at the massive scope of work ahead and feeling the weight of inadequate resources pressing down like a physical force.

The ruins were extensive.

They need shelter for six clans, and now, a group has been added. The infrastructure: water systems, food production, defensive fortifications, all of it needed building from nothing.

And he had essentially no coin to get things done around here.

The absorbed clans had brought what resources they possessed, but six nearly extinct groups didn’t have much to contribute.

The Sol’vur’s recognition by the Council hadn’t come with financial support, just political legitimacy, which didn’t pay for building materials or food supplies.

Sigora had been managing through careful rationing and trade negotiations, but those were temporary solutions. Actually building a functioning settlement required resources on a scale they simply didn’t possess.

Jorghan was contemplating whether to approach the Council for loans, politically distasteful but possibly necessary, when he sensed someone approaching.

She was impossible to miss.

Citrangada of the Rudanavs clan stood tall with fur covering her entire body, dense, porcelain skin, and fur, with patterns that suggested both beauty and wild strength. Her face was simian, with features that blended monkey and ape characteristics into something uniquely her own. Her tail, which Jorghan hadn’t noticed during their brief Council interaction, swayed behind her with the unconscious expressiveness that marked it as a true appendage rather than a decorative addition.

She wore clothing that accommodated her fur and tail while maintaining dignity appropriate to her status as a major clan matriarch. Her brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and humor, and her movements carried the effortless grace of someone comfortable in a body that most species would find unusual.

“Jorghan Sol’vur,” she called out, her voice carrying the melodic quality many elven women possessed but with rougher undertones that matched her appearance.

“I heard you’ve been busy since we last spoke. Six wives from the six lesser clans, plus apparently a faery queen you married while rescuing her from certain death. That’s quite the accomplishment in just a few months.”

Jorghan turned to face her, recognizing her immediately despite having met only briefly at the Council. He frowned, surprised that the news had reached her so fast.

“Matriarch Citrangada. I wasn’t expecting visitors.

What brings you here?”

“Curiosity,” Citrangada replied honestly, moving to stand beside him and survey the construction site, just the simple things.

“And perhaps mild offense that you rejected my proposal so thoroughly by marrying six women from weak clans instead of accepting partnerships with established power.”

She said it with humor rather than genuine anger, but Jorghan heard the question beneath the words. Why had he chosen as he did?

“It just happened that way,” Jorghan replied with a shrug.

“The marriages made sense for clan integration and political stability. The six matriarchs needed security, and I needed their clans’ populations and skills. It was a practical arrangement that evolved into something more genuine than I’d initially planned.”

“After hearing them out, I have concluded that I should have a big family, a very big family.”

“And the faery queen?” Citrangada pressed.

“That was practical, too?”

“That was accidental sacred bonding,” Jorghan admitted.

“I’m still processing how that even happened.”

Citrangada laughed, the sound carrying genuine amusement.

“You’re either the unluckiest or luckiest male in the realm when it comes to accidentally acquiring wives. I can’t decide which.”

She grew more serious, her tail swishing with agitation that suggested conflicting emotions.

“So. My proposal. The one you effectively rejected by marrying others. Should I consider it formally declined, or is there still a possibility for partnership?”

Jorghan met her gaze directly.

“I’m not declining. But I need to be honest; my main concern right now is the clan’s settlement construction. And I am in a bind about how to proceed further.”

Citrangada’s expression showed disappointment she didn’t bother hiding.

“That’s honest at least. Most would give diplomatic answers that mean the same thing but waste everyone’s time with false hope.”

“However,” Jorghan continued, “I do need help. Desperately. And you’re someone who might be able to provide it if you’re willing.”

Her ears perked up with interest.

“What kind of help?”

Jorghan gestured at the construction site, at the ruins awaiting restoration, and at the temporary camps housing hundreds of refugees.

“I need resources to actually build this settlement. Materials, food, coins to hire specialists, and purchase what we can’t produce ourselves. I am actually very poor, and I don’t even have a single coin. We have people and ambition, but lack the financial foundation to execute on plans.”

He looked at her directly.

“Your clan has resources. You’re established and prosperous, with trade networks and accumulated wealth. If you help me build this settlement, I mean if you help me with coin, I’ll owe you big time. Significantly. Political alliance, my support when you need it, and favorable trade terms for decades. Whatever compensation you consider fair for the investment.”