The disturbance jolted Geral awake; a cacophony of shouts, shattering vases, and crashing furniture filled the air.

Initially, he believed his home was under attack, frantically searching for his weapons, only to realize he was defenseless, unclothed in his own bed.

Later, after facing a barrage of inquiries, he grasped that he was the subject of an official investigation by Grackak's people who had forcefully entered his home.

Following hours of relentless questioning, he was eventually permitted to dress.

In a new room, drained and exasperated from repeatedly answering the same questions with "I don't know," Geral found himself confronted by Stella, the inquisitor, and two guards. Though Stella, a level thirty mage with long hair featuring pink highlights, had no need for additional muscle, she relished the opportunity to have some under her command.

Once again, she asked the same inquiries Geral had heard incessantly. "Where are your girls?"

He gazed into Stella's frigid, black eyes and let out a sigh.

"I don't know! Noviel mentioned attending a party. Did something happen? Is Noviel alright? Where are my girls?" Geral replied, recalling Noviel's outfit probing time before she left.

That was all he remembered, but that had been two days ago. He had slept another two days! Probably the medicine with which he had been treated had also kept him sleeping, and now he was left alone with many questions. Where were Anabella and the girls?

Only after Stella finally explained the situation Geral understood what was happening: Anabella and the girls were accused of freeing an important slave.

Anabella had been caught, but the girls and the slave were missing.

"This is not possible," Geral protested. "Anabella would never break the law, especially if it put the girls in danger. Can I talk to my wife?"

"When the interrogations are over, you may be able to see her," Stella replied. "But based on how things are going, Anabella will likely be publicly displayed on the gallows for several days before being decapitated."

Geral's body shook with horror.

“Wow, wow, wow! Stop it! Take it easy! Decapitate Anabella? Are you crazy? Can't you just let us go away?”

A mischievous grin spread across Stella's face as she shook her head. "She's guilty as sin. We know she did it. If she cooperates and helps us catch the slave and any other guilty parties, she might only receive a penalty of several years. Otherwise, she will be executed."

Geral couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Several years of what? Prison?"

Stella scoffed. "Why should anyone care to keep a spawn like her in prison? She'll be a loyal slave for several years. That's the penalty for spawns, Geral. If you can gather the money, you could even buy her. I wonder what her price would be."

Geral's eyes widened in shock. He sighed. "Aren't you afraid they'll try to escape, your slaves?"

The inquisitor laughed softly and shrugged. "You have no idea how quickly they learn to behave. They were made for our entertainment! Those who don't behave are put in chains and forced to work in dangerous places like mines or quarries. If they're useless, they're put out of their misery, but I'm sure she would make a fine addition to a brothel."

"You monsters! You can't do that!"

“We cannot? Careful Geral! Being one of us does not mean you cannot be punished!”

Geral snored at his turn.

“Because what?”

Stella only grinned.

“Geral, I'm an inquisitor; if you disrespect me, I will have you punished!”

Geral almost went ballistic.

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Stella!”

She laughed, satisfied as if this would have been the reaction she expected:

“I've warned you! Well, Geral. You have a one-day punishment for your insolence with a warning. You'll ask Megan, the bar owner, what you have to do and be at the disposition of the bar. Maybe they need to sweep and clean the toilets. Don't make me call the guards and have them force you to do your work. You know they'll do it with gusto! Clear Geral?”

“What? You are the inquisitor and judge?” - Geral gasped, surprised at the turn of events.

“Well, aren't you a clever boy? Yes, I am. You can write a complaint to Grackak if you don't like it. I would take it and eventually forward it further if I deem it worth his attention; however, until then, you'll have to do what I say. Do you understand?”

Geral was stunned. He couldn't believe that Stella had the power to order him around and punish him at will. He reluctantly nodded his head, looking into her eyes.

Stella didn't seem satisfied and raised her voice.

"Answer me properly, Geral! Say 'Yes, madam inquisitor,' or you'll get three more days and lose any chance of talking to Anabella!"

Geral gritted his teeth, feeling humiliated. He forced himself to look down and replied in a low voice, "Yes, madam inquisitor."

Stella smiled, pleased with herself. "Good. Now, go to the bar and ask Megan what you need to do. You'll work until sunset, and if you do a good job, I might consider reducing your punishment. Off you go, Geral."

Geral turned and walked away, feeling defeated. As he left, he heard Stella's laughter ringing in his ears, and he closed his fists until his knuckles went blank.

*

Geral was in the middle of scrubbing a dubious patch on the floor when Olomuc the orc walked into the bar. He glanced at Geral and sighed, then went to sit at a table and ordered two beers.

Geral glanced in his direction and nodded. At this, Olomuc wondered:

“I wondered where you'd been while your NPC wife was getting beaten, and you took a cleaning job? WTF, man?”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Geral dropped the mop and tried to reach for his weapon, only to realize it wasn't at his belt.

“Getting beaten!?” - he mumbled, shocked.

Olomuc raised his voice just a notch:

“Stay put! You did not answer my question!?”

Geral realized again that he was totally outmatched and outclassed. There was no room to display anger. He sighed, bowed, and picked up the mop again, then spoke between his teeth:

“I'm doing my penalty for having insulted Madam Inquisitor Stella.”

Olomuc was incredulous. “You fucking kidding me!”

Geral shrugged. “It's this or having no chance to see Anabella before being executed.”

“Come here,” – the orc ordered, pointing towards the free seat at his table.

“If I'll do that, Stella, pardon madam inquisitor, will add another day to my punishment. She'd been very clear about that”

“I'm higher in the ranking than Stella. You come and sit here, and this counts as working your day out.”

Geral dropped the mop and went hesitatingly to Olomuc's table.

“Drink!” - Olomuc said, raising his jar

Geral took the other jar and drank.

“You care for Anabella?” - Olomuc wondered.

Geral put the jar slowly on the table and sighed.

“Sure I do. She is my wife.”

“I thought you'd be by now fucking that older daughter...”

Geral's face became redder than a tomato.

“You call me here to insult me? OK, go on...”

“Insult you? You've been seen with that girl naked in your arms!

Geral sighed.

“Oh, that...”

“Yeah, that!” – Olomuc laughed and drank half his beer with one gulp.

Geral continued hesitatingly.

“Well, she had been swarmed by those damned wolshi that went under her armor. I had to take it off and clean the beasts, then I saw she was losing her conscience due to their poison. I ran as fast as I could with her home. Because of those beasts, I was incapacitated until now, and this catastrophe happened.”

“And nothing happened between you and the girl?”

Geral shook his head and shrugged. “Nope.”

He sighed. That was the truth, even if a couple of his brain cells had overheated at the sight of the naked girl.

“Oh.” - Olomuc placed his empty jar down and ordered another two beers, then turned back to Geral. - “Yeah, OK. I just wondered why you were missing the show of your wife's public beating, but yeah, you have the perfect excuse with this cleaning job, so you have it officially from an orc: I am sorry.”

Hearing again about Anabella's beating, Geral sighed, looking beaten at Olomuc.

“I always wondered if you were an orc in your real life, Olomuc. You behave so naturally!”

Olomuc exploded in a burst of laughter, involuntarily spraying Geral with some beer.

“You've put it much too kindly. You certainly mean being insensitive!? Well, you are not far away from the truth. I'm a native and lived on a reservation. But even between the natives, I was a pariah. I did not give a damn about their history, religion, and stuff and despised their mercantile gambling. You cannot be both, so I was neither. Yeah, being an orc suited me best. It is really freeing!”

“A native?” - Geral asked while cleaning the few drops from his face with the back of his hand.

“Probably three out of my thirty-two great-great-parents were natives. Does that make me a native? But yeah, I lived on the reservation. And where are we now? Not in a new reservation?”

“I fucking don't know, but it looks like it!” - Geral answered with a shrug.

Just when Geral was starting to feel more comfortable, a shrill woman's voice made the hair on his neck stand up in alarm.

“Geral!! What are you doing there? That's unacceptable! How did you dare! For this, you'll have to come another day...”

Stella, the inquisitor, furiously stepped towards their table, and Geral wanted to stand up, but the powerful, green hand of the orc forced him to continue sitting.

“Hi, Stella!” - Olomuc said with a calm baritone voice interrupting her verbal avalanche – “He is here on my order. He must stay and keep me company until I drink my beer!”

“But that's no punishment! When are you going to finish your beer?”

Olomuc shrugged.

“It can take very long. As long as I want it. Do you volunteer to take his place? Or maybe we should sit all three and talk?”

“I'm an inquisitor! You can't force me to...”

“See, that's why I took him. I'm glad that we all agree!”

Geral was impressed seeing how Stella left the bar with the tail between her legs.

“You got some authority,” – he wondered, looking at Olomuc

The orc shrugged.

“Levels. I have at least fifty levels on her, and Fify can chomp her down with one bite if need be, even if she would get those magical crystals the guys are using to boost themselves. I am in Grackak's high council and do my work. What he is trying to do is not an easy task; organizing and managing a whole town is hard work. Stella is his pick, she is doing a good job, but she sometimes exaggerates and needs to be shown her place. That's my job; I'm an orc, you know?”

He laughed. Geral rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Well, you were not so wrong about me and Noviel, but it's just the neanderthal in me voicing his needs, and I try to correct myself. She is so fucking attractive and acts so confusing.”

He shrugged. Olomuc laughed.

“I see, so you try to feed the right wolf! Good for you!”

Geral wondered: “Feed the right wolf?”

“Well, the one from the Chakotee legend.”

“A Chakotee legend? Are you Chakotee?”

“No, but yeah. It fits. It goes like this: an elderly Chakotee-brave tells his grandson about life:

“Son,” he says, “There is a battle of two wolves within all of us. One is evil. He is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, lust for possession, superiority, and ego.

He continued, “The other is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”

“The same fight is going on inside of you, and inside every other person, too,” explained the wise Chakotee elder.

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The grandfather simply replied, “The one you feed.”

Olomuc patted Geral on his shoulder:

“So brave Geral, don't feed the big bad wolf and go see your wife, she is in the main square, but before you do that, I must warn you. Don't try to free her! A group of guards is watching her all the time, and they are all higher level than you, but be informed that it is my task to guard her. I and Fiffy are to ensure that she does not escape. She will not escape her fate. Sorry to tell you that, but you must know!”

Geral gave Olomuc a tired glance. He stood up and pointed at the empty beer jar.

“Thanks for the beer and everything. I owe you something!”

“You don't owe me anything, just don't make any stupid move, man!”