There was something unnerving about seeing twenty-eight trolls in one space. They loomed like giants over Noa, Armael, Tin, and even Chief, who had decided to lead this party. Aud and Magenta remained to take care of the children, and━

Was that troll pregnant?

Noa blinked, looking over the burgundy troll, white marbling decorating her prominent baby bump. He gawked, the baby bump casting a shadow over his entire form. “What happens if a pregnant troll evolves? How does that work with babies?”

“They evolve too, I’m sure,” Armael said.

“Wait, you don’t know?” Noa asked.

“I don’t exactly make it a hobby of mine to evolve entire villages of trolls, kid.”

“You’re not a total encyclopedia on varying races?” Noa asked sarcastically, Tin giggling.

“Oh look, clouds,” Armael rolled his eyes, “High Prelate Caradec is the closest you’ll get, or that book in your hand.”

“What if the baby doesn’t evolve? Would she just explode?” Noa asked, briefly looking over the book on ogres Caradec handed him earlier.

“Ew,” Tin cringed.

“Careful, I don’t think she liked that idea,” Armael said.

Noa looked back up at the troll, eyes passing over the exposed baby bump, crossed arms, and up to the woman’s daggers for eyes. That frown could kill. He jumped as she leaned towards him, even taking a few steps away.

“I’m...” Noa started, tentative, “sorry?”

Hot air hit him as she huffed, and it wasn’t until she was stomping away that he finally relaxed.

“We are ready,” Chief said, approaching. “And have prepared baskets for you to travel in this time.”

“Baskets?” Noa asked.

“Yes. You humans are very fragile. I wanted something safer for us to carry you in. Follow me.” She turned around, trolls stepping out of her path respectfully as she brought them to three large baskets next to three large trolls.

“You could almost stick the kid and Tin in one alone,” Armael said.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” Noa asked, raising an eyebrow. I’m at least taller than Tin...

“When you become a man.”

“I am a... oh, whatever,” Noa huffed, climbing into a basket next to a bright blue troll.

With an amused snort, Armael not-so-gracefully did the same in an adjacent basket. The basket was rather comfortable, thick hides lining the inside. Good thing too, considering that the wood hadn’t been sanded down before the basket was constructed. Being lifted in the cube-ish mode of transport was a tad unnerving, the movement so quick that Noa’s stomach plummeted. That settled once it was secured to the baby-blue troll’s back by two leather straps like a backpack.

That left Noa to... not have to cling on for dear life as the trolls climbed the mountain walls. Nor did he have to worry about looking down, the ground effectively blocked off. He did hop a little from where he sat, just to make sure the thing wouldn’t break apart underneath him. It didn’t so much as creak.

Damnit, now I have to read, he thought, pulling his pack from his back to set it aside and lean back. He grasped the book before him, looking over the simple cover. OGRES, it read, the letters obnoxiously large. At first, it wasn’t a preferred pastime, but after the trolls began their climb, Noa found himself immersed in the pages as if they were his lifeline━anything to keep from thinking about the doom laying far below them.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The few drawings in the book gave Noa a detailed idea on what they looked like. Ogres were fat. Their ears, sadly, were relatively normal, if a bit pointy, sharpening square jaws. Tusk-like teeth jutted out over the upper lip, which added to how seemingly ordinary ogres were to what Noa would have expected from a Google search, had he the opportunity here. The most interesting thing was the fact that their skin was covered in large scales, impenetrable to arrows, lances, and other slashing and/or stabbing implements.

Notably, they were dumb, so the book said; “violent and dumb”.

This is boring as hell, Noa thought, feeling locked in the upper church room, forced to read and listen to one of Armael’s lectures, just without the lecture part. He imagined the priest entertaining himself by giving one of his lectures to a troll.

“A troll probably appreciates it more,” Noa muttered, frowning. He looked up from the book, the basket no different. Even the clouds in the sky looked the same. It was a quiet day, the wind hardly blowing, despite the high climb. Granted, he didn’t dare look to see how far they’d gone.

Turning, he looked over Baby-blue’s back, his flexing muscles incredible with each movement.

A sound of turning pages brought Noa back to his book, and he froze, jaw dropping. One, two, three pages turned, all on their own. No wind, the basket shielded from it. Four, then five, and faster the pages went until they settled on a page with the title “BEWARE” in big bold letters.

“Damn,” Noa sighed. “You’re still here,” he said, certain that his haunting had, after all, not gotten bored with him.

Who would? My life is a roller coaster, he thought, briefly considering what his life was now. He owned a farm. He entrusted a complete stranger to take care of it while he was gone, Finbar━the man he hired during the fire.

“Beware what...?” Noa asked, forcing himself to get back on track with the reading.

These creatures are not to be trifled with. They possess the unique ability to “share” all that is done to them within the colony. The more ogres in a colony, the more powerful they are both individually and collectively. An ogre can share burdens, such as injuries, thus the only reliable way to eradicate an ogre infestation is to collectively destroy them all at once, or evolve the ogres into their sapient form.

Evolution requires forming an emotional connection to the ogres. This can be greatly aided by the spells allotted to [Comforters]. However, every colony behaves differently, and it can take years to uncover the connection the ogres require for evolution.

It is advised to either eradicate the infestation or relocate the ogres.

Notes: Relocation can be done by providing ogres a more appealing location to feed off of. Most ogre infestations occur when a colony has outgrown their feeding grounds.

Anything with meat on them (that means you) is considered viable feed.

Oh... lovely. Noa cringed, naturally finding himself inedible. Too skinny, clearly. Ogres would want to eat something else, right? Just gotta outrun the bigger guys━everyone around, essentially. Or I’m a tasty appetizer. He shivered.

A feeling that the high prelate wanted to evolve the ogres quickly sunk in, as eradicating a potentially sapient race felt evil. Eradication, Noa assumed, was probably a monarchy method, whereas relocation and evolution were church methods, yet relocation wasn’t truly viable. Eventually the ogres would outgrow their location, assuming they populated faster than whatever it was they were consuming, in which case they were significantly stronger.

If a troll took off that bulky man’s arm the other day, then they were an incredible threat that couldn’t just be overlooked or relocated.

No, the high prelate would attempt evolution first, and if that didn’t work, Noa was certain Caradec was the kind of man who would do what must be done. He would kill off an entire colony of ogres before the ogres could eat everyone.

If we isolate one and try to form a connection to it, could that evolve the entire colony? Noa wondered, assuming that if the colony could distribute their burdens, then they likely distributed their strengths too. That also meant every troll was capable of doing what one did to Bulky Man.

Noa closed the book, then tucked it in his pack before he turned around in the basket. Leaning against the basket’s opposite wall, he got a good view of the troll carrying him, as well as the mountain wall he was still climbing, a ledge just ahead.

“Have you ever met an ogre?” Noa asked.

No response.

“Hello?”

“Are you talking to me, bard?” the troll asked, his rolling voice deep, like stone grinding against one another, only less grating.

“Yes.”

“I know nothing of ogres,” he answered. Darn. “We are almost there. Tonight, you tell us stories, yes?”

Noa shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, sure,” he said.

“Most excellent,” Baby-blue said, his hand finally grasping the ledge. He heaved, and Noa pushed himself to his knees to get a look over the troll’s shoulder. His stomach lurched when the troll immediately ducked back down, not allowing him a look. “Problem,” Baby-blue said just above a whisper.

“What is it?” Noa asked.

“The Lion King.”