Politics

[moonshadows]

"Not right now, Mikanna." Thrall kneeled down before the closed door to the council chamber, putting himself at eye level with his little girl. "This is a big-people game." He smiled with quiet amusement. "I'll teach you to play when you're older."

The gentle rebuff and promise grew into a ritual over the next two years. When the orc girl turned seven, before even tearing the wrappings off her presents, she turned to her sire.

"Am I old enough to play the big-people game now?"

Thrall laughed and regarded his child with tolerant amusement. "Not yet," he said, and her face fell. "...but, if you promise to be very quiet and listen hard and only ask questions afterwards, I’ll let you watch." Mikanna threw herself at him in a full-body hug, and he hugged her carefully back. "It's not a very exciting game," he warned. There's a lot of talking, and no pieces to move around."

Mikanna leaned back to look her father in the eyes. "Then why do you play it?" she asked with all the seriousness a child could summon.

Thrall laughed again. "It has its rewards," he said mildly. "But you have to be very patient to see them."

The Kor'kron Elite behind him were too well-trained to smile, but the corners of their mouths twitched slightly.

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It was only a few days later that the Warchief found his daughter playing with her new toys - wooden figures carved and painted to represent the variety of troops present in the Horde, and very similar to the markers used with war maps - and beckoned her over.

"Time to get cleaned up." He held one hand up, silencing her protest. "If you want to watch the big-people game, you have to be clean and dressed in your good clothes."

"Is that one of the rules?" Mikanna tilted her head, making no motion to pick her toys up.

Thrall did his best to look stern. "It is when we play in the council chamber."

The child considered this a moment, then began collecting her toys. "Can the big-people game be played other places, too?"

The Kor'kron Elite smothered their smiles.

"Oh yes, it can be played almost anywhere."

"But dressing up is a rule just for the council chamber?"

The Warchief took his daughter's hand and led her out of the rocky courtyard. "When you're more familiar with the game, you'll be able to figure out what to where for it when you play it other places."

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Howard Barthel had been to Orgrimmar before, in his position as the unlucky sot to have been promoted to diplomat to the stinking orcs. Even though there had been no open warfare in five years, the city still bristled with weaponry and nothing could disguise that it had been built as a fort. He didn't see why the whole race didn't just go back where they came from, or why they couldn't just be wiped out like a good enemy. What did they have to trade with Stormwind, anyway? But orders were orders, and so Harold found himself once more being escorted into the council chamber of the Warchief, Thrall.

As usual, two of the biggest, meanest orcs in the whole place stood to either side of the door, indicating that their leader was inside. The Warchief and his council always settled themselves first, before he (or any other diplomat or visitor, from what he'd been told) entered, to prevent any surprise attacks. Howard just rolled his eyes at the paranoia of the savages and stepped into the room. The Warchief was there in that barbaric fur-covered proto-throne of his, with his advisers in their skin chairs around the table. Two more of the big uglies stood against the wall behind their master and two more in the corner flanking a small child on a fur rug, playing with some wooden toys. Howard frowned. Why was there a child here?

"Something wrong, ambassador?" That was one of the orc generals.

"No, no. It's nothing." Howard said quickly. He sure wasn't about to complain to an enemy general - maybe it was his kid. But the guards...

Howard glanced at Thrall's face as he bowed and caught a look of mild amusement. He glanced around the table as he sat, and damned if all the orcs and trolls weren't amused at his expense! He prayed to the Light that his Theramore counterpart would be here soon. Surely old Gerard would protest the presence of a child at a diplomatic meeting!

The guards at the door shifted, and pudgy old Gerard huffed in, nodding greetings around the table until he caught sight of the orc child. Then, to Howard's dismay, he broke into a broad grin and sat down with an aura of satisfaction.

In her corner, on her favorite fur and in her best clothes, Mikanna played with her wooden toys and was very quiet. She'd seen humans before - Gerard in particular brought treats from Theramore for her often - and she couldn't see much from the floor anyway, so she didn't bother looking at the people at the table. Listen, her father had said, not watch, so listen she would. While the adults greeted each other, she amused herself by arranging her toys in a circle and assigning one to each voice. That grew boring after a few minutes, and she went back to staging a fake battle in the folded hills and valleys of her fur. She was listening, really she was, but most of it made no sense and she determined the wins and losses in her mock-battle by tone of voice. In her mind, the painted raptor screamed a thin challenge at the Frostwolf's growl, then recoiled as the wolf barked sharply.

"Is something wrong, Ambassador Howard?" Thrall sounded concerned.

Howard flinched. "Should we be discussing this in front of the child?"

Several pairs of eyebrows shot up; Gerard looked personally offended. Thrall simply glanced at Mikanna as though surprised to see her there.

"Is the voice of Stormwind unfit for the ears of a child?" he asked, the rumble in his voice promising dreadful things of the answer was yes.

"No, of course not! ...but surely the subject matter is too complex for..." Howard paused, unsure if the little orc with scraggly blonde hair was male or female. "...for a child so young."

The Warchief shrugged. "She'll learn. Speaking of learning, has Stormwind considered my request on the subject of teachers?"

This put Howard back on the familiar ground of superior contempt. "Stormwind is willing to compromise, and send one tutor when you have an heir. Until such time, there is much concern about the stability of the political climate." At Thrall's scowl, he hurried on. "Stormwind understands that an educated leader is beneficial and valuable as an ally, and understands that your education has contributed strongly to your leadership, and wants your successor to have the same advantage!" The diplomat made vaguely helpless gestures. "But given the...tumultuous nature of the way leadership has been transferred in the past, Stormwind wants to see proof of future stability before sending its citizens into the heart of what used to be enemy territory."

Howard held his breath and tried not to cringe again, cautiously watching the big orc on the fur-covered throne for signs of rage at the implied slight to his rule. Instead, Thrall looked torn between biting back a sharp retort and smothering laughter. The rest of his council was not so divided - they looked ready to kill him, and he began to sweat. Beside him, Gerard calmly raised his hand.

Thrall's eyes flicked briefly to the older diplomat. "Yes, Gerard?" he rumbled.

The portly Theramore ambassador gave Thrall a rueful smile, apologizing silently for his counterpart. "May I have the honor?"

The Warchief nodded, accepting the apology and allowing the other human the opportunity to restore his face's honor in the eyes of the Orgrimmar council.

Gerard laid a fatherly hand on the younger man's shoulder and gestured to the child in the corner. "Howard, my led," he began, voice gentle as he broke the news, "allow me to present to you Mikanna, daughter of Thrall, Warchief of the Horde."

Howard looked in horror as the orc girl stood, looked him straight in the eye, and gave him an orcish salute - equal to equal, of he was remembering the gestures right. "Honored Warchief," he said tiredly, "please accept my apology, my congratulations, and my request to return to Stormwind and deliver this happy news personally." And resign on the spot, he thought.

Thrall nodded, trying not to grin at the human's discomfort, and very proud of his little girl. Howard just fled with as much grace and dignity as his humiliation would allow.