Alvie had just turned four (he could count ALL the way to how old he was, if he used his fingers!) but he already knew that he was the most important person in the world. It was obvious. For one, he was Alvie, and there was nobody else like him, nobody under the whole wide world. Second, he could tell based on how his Abba and Tatte treated him. They showered him with their attention, with affection, with gifts, with love. Whenever he threw a tantrum, they gave him the thing he wanted, always. Clearly he just deserved it all. That was just how things worked!

“No,” Alvin repeated for the fourth time in the past ten minutes, frustration beginning to snake its way into his voice.

“It has to be you, Al,” Celeste said. The short human crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the stone floor of the new house they were in. There hadn’t been time for anything resembling creature comforts to be assembled for the new tenements, so the tightly-packed buildings were bare, unfurnished, and simple. Alvin could tell that Learn appreciated it, but the setting made the young dwarf uncomfortable; a home should be filled with trinkets, odds-and-ends, memories of friends and family. To have nothing but a table and a surface on which to eat—sometimes the two were one and the same—filled him with unease.

“It can’t be me,” Alvin said. “For one thing, it should be an orc!” He looked to Learn for agreement, and found nothing in the broad, implacable face that looked back at him. Learn had taken to wearing a pair of spectacles, since he now spent so much of his time poring over agreements, treaties, and other such documents. It had begun to strain his vision. The glasses lent a sort of scholarly grace to the orc’s face, Alvin thought, but behind that was the same lack of expression Learn generally wore.

Alvin didn’t think that the orc even knew how differently he came off. He had been forced to push down his most brutal, violent impulses, as any show of emotion could be the first drop in the barrel that sent his people back to the Red Desert, back to being the mindless, bloodthirsty brutes that they had been in Shrike’s estimation until the invasion of the past year. Any emotion would be taken as aggression, and so he could not afford to show any emotion at all.

One year. That was all the time it took for things to change this much, Alvin reflected. Orcs, once mistrusted and pushed to the edges of society, were now commonplace. Despite this, fights continued to break out on the outskirts of town. Someone would fall too far into their drink, a comment would be said that couldn’t be taken back, and an orc would be found unconscious. Generally, with three or four others unconscious around them. Tensions had mounted.

“It should be an Orc… right?” Al asked again, voice quieter. Oh, Pater, what if he had offended Learn? He shrunk back, and his hands grasped each other tight. He hadn’t brought anything else with him to grip. His eyes searched, landed on Celeste, as if pleading for a moment, until he remembered that she was the person he was arguing against. He forced himself to take a breath, held it, then let it out in a smooth, quiet blow. There. He mentally reconfigured, focusing, and reworded what he had been trying to say.

“I don’t have any experiences of the Red Desert. I’ve never traveled as a member of your Clans, never worried about where I would get water from. I haven’t lived the lives that your people have had, Learn. How am I supposed to get them what they need if I don’t know what they need?”

Learn was silent for a plodding moment. Alvin could almost see the implacable gears grinding in his friend’s head, the process by which the orc would inevitably come to the correct conclusion. Alvin often wished that he could be as smart as his friend.

“Can’t just be orcs fighting for their rights. Too fragile, too easy to break down. You, you’re not an orc. Show that this is everyone’s responsibility, not just orcs.”

Alvin thought it over. It did make sense, yes, but then again, why did it have to be him? Learn, Celeste, they could both find someone who was better at confrontation than a young dwarf with a tendency to panic at all the wrong times. There was just no way that he was the best option.

He was shaken from his thoughts when Learn continued to speak. Alvin had thought that Learn was finished, but he was just talking slowly, as he often did. Really, the orc was so particular that it was sometimes difficult to keep up with.

“Don’t want to be clan leader,” he started. “Have to, though.” He let out a slow smile, the edges of his lower lips dragging down as they often did, lips meant to be pulled tight around broad tusks now finding empty space instead. “You don’t want to be ambassador. Will, though.”

Alvin sighed, though he knew that his two friends were right. He didn’t have it in him to disagree with them. Besides, he had been going with Learn to the High Council’s meetings ever since Learn became the clan leader, the only difference now was that he would be expected to speak, and to vote. He wouldn’t be anyone’s advisor, he’d be a full-fledged member. Obviously, that made it so much more difficult for him, but he couldn’t very well explain that, not in a way that the two political powerhouses would understand. They weren’t afraid of anything, Learn and Celeste. Or if they were, it wasn’t in the same drowning way that Alvin was. Sometimes, when he was in the grip of his terrors, he wondered if anyone under Ryria felt as trapped as he did, even though he knew the thought was ridiculous. There are prisoners, Al, he would think. Barbur still has slaves. Somehow, though, the thoughts never managed to comfort him.

“Fine, fine, fine.” He said, running a hand up through his hair, noticing with a moment of shame and embarrassment that he had again forgotten to wear his skullcap. He’d have to run and get it after this. It had grown harder for him to remember. His fathers would be so disappointed in him.

“Glad to hear it, Al,” Celeste grinned.

“So… what do I need, to be an ambassador? Do I need to do anything special?” Alvin asked. Though he had been on Council meetings already, he was more akin to an advisor, or a servant. He didn’t get a say, though Learn always looked to him for his input. In truth, he was one of two who regularly attended Council meeting but didn’t get a say; the other was Jotep Rule’s speaker, Io Becque. Io, a tall, thin half-elf, had all of the poise and authority that Shrike’s true leader lacked—it was a welcome change when the meeting had begun to be led by Mr. Io, and they had gotten far more efficient as well. The man was an excellent orator, better than Alvin could ever even hope to become. Pater, Celeste and Learn were making a really, really big mistake, here. Why couldn’t they see that?

“Identification.” Learn answered, punctuated by Celeste rummaging around in one of the pouches adorning her waist, muttering as she looked around. Whatever she was searching for wasn’t in the first one, nor the second one. After several silent moments, she finally closed her fist around something.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, white teeth bright in the dark, empty room.

“Always the last place you look, huh?” she asked. Learn and Alvin caught each other’s eyes; both remained silent, then looked at the human, expressionless. The small grin wiped off of Celeste’s face, and she tossed the item to Alvin. He scrambled to catch it, and while he missed the actual item, his finger managed to snag onto a length of silk that looped onto it. Attached to the silk was a medallion, made of what looked like several different types of metal melded together. His name was etched into it in a number of different languages, three of which he recognized.

“It’s a really good thing you accepted, Al, otherwise we’d have been in hot water,” Celeste said. “We spoke to the Council already, and they voted to confirm you. It would’ve been a huge embarrassment if you turned it down after all that, hm?” she asked, nudging Learn with her elbow. The big orc nodded, and Alvin felt himself grow angry, face reddening beneath his thick beard. They had been playing with him this whole time.

“So I didn’t really have a choice, did I? You already decided for me?”

“Of course not!” Celeste answered as if affronted, as if the accusation were completely off base. Learn, though, seemed to disagree with her. “I—we needed to make sure that you wanted to, and I would be totally okay walking it back in the Council if you turned it down.”

“Could still give it back. Would embarrass Celeste, so not so different from usual,” Learn deadpanned, face showing no sign of humor. Alvin still didn’t understand what Learn found funny and what he didn’t; he doubted that he ever would know. Their senses of humor very rarely overlapped.

“I—that’s—not…” Alvin tried to get back to the point he was making, but his original thought was gone. “That’s not fair. I didn’t really have a choice, regardless of how you phrase it.” The sentiment sounded petulant, even to him, and he cringed as the words left his mouth.

“Yeah, well, leadership isn’t fair, Al.” Celeste said. “I mean, we’ve gone over this like, ten times now. Gods, I hate being the Commander of the Hawks, but I don’t really get a say, do I? No, Miles had to go and get himself killed!”

“Barely a Commander,” Learn said.

“Oh yeah, big guy? You’re judging my leadership?” Celeste reached up to poke the orc in the chest. “How’s the Red Desert been, huh?”

“Don’t know. That’s why I’m getting Alvin.” Learn answered, hands spread as if apologetic. It was true, it had been a while since Learn had been back to his ancestral homeland, but to Alvin, it had seemed as though Learn was establishing a new government in Shrike, rather than in that massive wasteland of iron and sand. Binding himself to the city, rather than making a new, separate nation.

“You’re leaving?” Alvin asked. Learn nodded, and Alvin’s heart dropped. Not only would he have to become one of the foremost decision-makers for the entire city, but he would have to do it alone. Celeste seemed to see the emotion on his face—or feel it through their Binding, he still wasn’t quite clear on what that did or didn’t allow her to do—and she stepped up to pull him into an awkward half-hug embrace. She was too tall, too thin, and her arms didn’t quite know where to fall on Alvin’s body, and he likewise felt uncomfortable. All the other races had all of these hang-ups about sex and gender, where you could and couldn’t touch someone who wasn’t part of yours. Dwarves didn’t have gender, nor biological sex, and the rules still eluded Alvin, so whenever he could, he defaulted to his standard: don’t touch anyone. He patted Celeste on the back, then let his hands fall.

“I’ll still be at the meetings, Al.” she said. “I mean… I’ll try. I can show up more. Okay?”

Alvin nodded, though they both knew that after one or two, she would recall why she resented them so much, why she nearly always sent Asch in her stead, and then she would stop coming again. She loathed being kept off of patrols, hated being locked away into a room filled to the brim with bureaucrats. She needed to feel the streets underneath her boots, be on the front lines. They both understood that she was lying. But Alvin kept his mouth shut, nodded.

Learn stood, and his broad shoulders eclipsed what light came in from the window behind him. The orc reached around his neck and fiddled with the necklace that Alvin knew laid just out of sight underneath the thick furs the orc wore.

“Have someone to introduce you to,” Learn said. “Come.”

“Who?” Alvin asked timidly.

“Going to introduce. Don’t worry.”

Celeste grimaced. “If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, I’m gonna duck out, big guy. Al, she can be a bit… much. Don’t let her get to you, okay?”

“Wait, how would she get to me? Why am I not supposed to worry?” Alvin called toward Celeste’s back as she left through the bare wooden doorway. “Celeste!” But she was gone, quick as a flash of lightning, headed off into an alley.

“Come.” Learn repeated, heading out the door. Alvin could have argued with his friend’s back, but he was so tired of arguing. Whatever. With a sigh, Alvin acquiesced, and followed his friend out into the street.