“As much as I have grown to abhor some of the laws we’ve created, there was a certain… efficiency in them that can’t be denied,” from my seat I stare at the crowd below. Bothersome bickering of numerous nobles who present their problems to the Council. “Back then, people had learned to solve their problems on their own. To reach a compromise, a fair one so that no one would call for the verdict of arbiters without a true necessity. For their judgement was swift and harsh, especially for those who wanted to exploit the laws for their gains… or wasted arbiters' time without a good reason.”

“You were saying something?” a fellow councilman asks me; I must have spoken my thoughts aloud.

“I just reminiscent the times from my previous life…”

“Haha, that’s true! The life before the Empire was something entirely different!”

I shook my head, smiling.

“You have no idea, my friend.”

- Ion’s dream journal

A woman's body trembled as if in fever. It wasn’t the first time during the recent days, yet she knew it would be the last. Instead of fighting and trying to absorb the ambient mana to remain within it, she gave up. The form she maintained unravelled; her consciousness began drifting. In different Planes, she could have reached her destination almost immediately. In this one, however, she was forced to follow capricious patterns of leylines, the journey of her spirit taking days instead of seconds.

She opened her eyes.

Sitting on an exquisite bed she looked around. One could have mistaken the room she had awoken inside for a regular chamber of a wealthy noble if not for a huge ritual circle drawn on the roof above the bed.

She felt a surge of mana spreading through the nearby wards and knew that her host was already aware of her return.

Semora had only a few minutes to get used again to the body that wasn’t merely a projection until the door opened. A robed, middle-aged man - at least for those who let the appearances misled them - entered hastily.

“What happened? You should be in the Rikse right now! Our preparations can't be ready yet!” Verrex, the court wizard of the King of Phenyth, said.

“With Friedrich’s gone, the projection I sustained out of his energy followed soon afterwards,” she answered and proceeded with an explanation of the recent events.

“He was a fool to die,” Verrex snorted. “By the hand of a random band of mercenaries. Pathetic.”

“The demise of your fellow warlock was unfortunate."

"Don't compare me to those talentless nitwits unable to comprehend the arcane without the insight given by your kind."

"You were the one who invited me to this Plane, requested my aid. Friedrich accepted my offer to help him. Is there a great difference between you?"

"My powers are mine and mine alone. Not a flimsy spark which can disappear with the first signs of doubts, or be diminished if lacking your approval."

"If you say so. Through, know that one of the band’s wizards turned out much stronger than expected. I never imagined those mercenaries to be able to overcome Ror’eth… In a compatible vessel nonetheless…”

“Semora, you are defending those who made mistakes. It’s unlike you.”

“Despite everything, he did well. A few of those Friedrich has initiated is already showing a promise. Even more, I expect the offspring of some to be touched by our Plane. And, in the light of recent events, one more spawn might turn out to be carrying a strong bloodline. Perfect commanders for future armies. A pity Ror’eth didn’t have enough time to produce scions using the vessel of his-“

“My plans can’t wait fifteen or twenty years! Not being able to utilise that convergence might be only a minor setback delaying your plans by ‘mere’ decades, but it isn’t the same for me. You aren’t fulfilling your part of the bargain! I summoned and provided you with energy so that you could set up your little cults as you wish, but you had to make sure the Rikse would be distracted right now!”

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“Worry not, there is surely enough distractions by now. I took care of this. Also, Asmodai's luck is with us. Your agents in Leisha’s Crossroads perfectly used the opportunity given by the recent appearance of an odd rift to Infernal Planes to further fuel the panic-”

“What agents?” Verrex frowned. “House Ashentree and their contacts have been already exposed. Hopefully, they managed to receive my warning in time. You were the last person capable of directing events in the south-eastern Rikse.”

“So the necromancers animating dead nobles weren’t yours?” the wizard shook his head. “Interesting… Still, the growing rumours about cults spreading in those areas will surely distract Riksians from the real schemes of your kingdom. Everything is already set in motion. The greenskins could begin their part anytime now. But that’s for later. Now, I’ll require more of your mana, at least until I find a replacement for Friedrich…”

****

“Wun more time ya push a rokk ta ma face an’ i kick yer face ta ‘da rokk,” Lagakh grumbled as they marched narrow mountain passages.

“Try it, softy. Me will 'ave sum gud stomp'n on ya,” Groll laughed and deliberately scattered more rocks.

Lagakh angrily growled and threw herself against Groll.

“Halt, scats! Ma boyz an' lasses won’t delay ‘da warband! Spare yer strength for pinkskin skum!”

Mug’lar kicked Laghkh’s leg causing her to fall during her charge.

“Me don’t need strength ta krush 'ommies!” Groll snorted.

The band leader threw his bag with supplies at the orc and glanced at him angrily.

“Yer too stronk? Den karry also ma suppliez.”

Groll looked at Mug’lar and considered opposing the order, yet reconsidered his chances in fighting an orc almost twice his size, with traces of ogrish blood in his veins, and thought better about taking his chances.

“Noth'ng ta say? Den pick 'im and muv on,” Mug’lar spit and headed to another commotion amongst the band he led.

“We should be fight'n' de pinkskins, not sneak'n' throo de mountains. 'da previous chieftain was stronk, 'e destroyed 'ommies' stony villages. But H’anni’bar iz kowardly. 'e sent lots uv bands ta fight 'da pinkskin's armies, but 'e 'imself iz flee'n. Only pretend'n ta fight.“

“Groll, our band iz 'da part uv H’anni’bar’s warband too,” another orc said.

“An' our ancestors are ashamed uv see'n us! If only Mug’lar wasn’t a koward follow'n 'im we would 'ave been gloriously stomp'n 'ommies’ puny knights right now!”

There were some murmurs of agreement among nearby orcs. Even if H’anni’bar had the support of most of the ‘gra'lars, orcish tribe leaders, the longer the journey continued, the more orcs tried to challenge his leadership, unwilling to follow his orders any longer. Over the months, the chieftain ruthlessly slew every opponent. Yet it still hasn't stopped some from voicing their discontent.

“H’anni’bar uses smartmuscles, yer are too young an' stupid ta understand,” Grok’tar finally grew fed up with the continued bickering. He waved his bony staff. He could feel the power of his ancestors contained inside it. “Luk around, wot do ya see?”

"Rokkz. Stonez. Everywur."

Grok'tar's eyebrow twitched with irritation.

“Lots of bands. Lots of warriors,” a brighter orc exclaimed.

Mountain trails were swarmed by orcs and monsters they were using as their mounts or pack animals. The host so large that mountain beasts were fleeing just because due to the ruckus they left in their wake. Even if some of the more savage beasts had to feel orcish combat prowess on their own skins.

“Not only. Behind us will follow da crafts-orc. 'da females 'oo were unable ta fight amongst us. Da youths. Da future uv our tribes.”

Most of the orcs still couldn’t comprehend what he was implying. Not surprising, considering that it was decided that H’anni’bar's strategy would remain hidden from the masses. It reduced the risk of humans finding out what was going to happen through the use of spells. Now, however, it was about time to drop the secrecy.

“It iz known 'dat spirits uv Hakzokh grew restless ova 'da past few years. 'da previous chieftain attacked 'da lands uv pinkskins promisin' them offerings. Da spirits blessed him, an' as long as he was victorious dey were content. But when he died, wit' 'da promise he made still not fulfilled completely, 'da spirits became furious. Dey threatened ta cleanse us, our entire tribes, by spewin' blood uv 'da earth ova our lands. If not for 'da intervention uv our new chieftain, 'da orcs would be no more. Still, 'da spirits decided 'dat we’ll be punished. Our lands would burn an shall be covered in everlastin' night, for da clouds will obskure da sun for da months ta come. 'da spirits deemed us too weak, so we are to be exiled an' find our strength again, or die.”

Until now, the full extent of the spirits' anger remained a secret known only to the few, mostly the shamans. Even from here, through the connection with his ancestors, he could clearly feel the wrath of the spirits of Hakzokh.

“H’anni’bar 'as chosen ta lead us throo 'da mountains ta claim new lands! 'da orcs 'oo were too ol' ta follow us,” or the tribes the chieftain and shamans deemed too stubborn or dangerous, Grok’tar added in his thoughts, “would lure da 'umiez deep into our territory. Dey will sacrifice demselves along wit' da enemy 'n hopes dat da orcs would regain da spirits’ blessings an' favour!”

Only brave shamans who remained behind knew the truth. The tribes that were left would fight humans and slowly retreat towards Hakzokh, pushed by the overwhelming army. Desolated villages left by the evacuated tribes, along with rumours spread by those who willingly stayed, should be enough to convince the remaining orcs that chieftain is a coward. Grok’tar knew most of his brethren wasn’t bright enough to guess a real scheme; they would remain oblivious until the very end. Because of the previous chieftain folly, many orcs would have to die so the tribes could survive.

“Soon we fight! Soon we stomp'n! We earn da honour 'n da eyes uv our ancestors! H’anni’bar’s son already crossed da mountains, an' right now his warband iz preparin' a siege ta wun uv da stony cities uv pinkskins. Tomorrow, we attack annuver wun! Shed 'da blood uv our enemies! Not even 'da walls built by bearded midgets will save 'da softy pinkskins from our weapons!”