While my "guardian defenders" were preoccupied with devouring a few peasants' cows, I watched the two retreating orcs with a curious eye. Ju, finally done with playing the part of the servant, slipped into the chair across from me. I placed a second crystal glass on the table for her, and she wasted no time pouring herself some wine.
"You’re not actually thinking of accepting his proposal, are you?" she asked, once the orcs had moved far enough away for us to speak freely.
“Why not?” I replied, taking a sip from my glass. Then I added the thought that had been haunting my mind since I first laid eyes on them. “Did you see those biceps? They're bigger than my thighs!”
Ju snorted, wine shooting out through her nose. She erupted into a mix of laughter and coughing, her face turning red as she wiped her face and hands with a handkerchief, all the while shooting me a stink eye.
“Please, don't say things like that when I’m drinking wine! Is that really your reason for considering his proposal?!”
I had to swivel my ears in her direction just to catch her words over the racket. There was too much background noise. With a shrug, I answered noncommittally—it wasn’t exactly what I meant, though it had sounded like it. Before I could clarify, the incessant crunching and slurping finally got to me. I turned towards the source of the noise that was drowning everything out.
"Sid, it's not polite to chew with your mouth open!" I called out, trying to impart some basic table manners to him.
“Really?” **splat** **splat** “Why though?” Sid asked, pausing to slurp the marrow from a bone with a look of utter satisfaction.
“Because it makes,” **crunch** “a lot of unpleasant,” **crunch** “noises,” Lynx chimed in, lifting his blood-smeared face from the inside of his cow. Even in the dim light of the lanterns, the mess was obvious, but he seemed quite proud of his “polite” eating habits.
I sighed deeply and turned back to Ju, abandoning any hope of teaching them table manners. Some battles weren't worth fighting.
“This part’s all burnt,” Lynx muttered to Sid, eyeing his meal.
“It’s not burnt, it’s just crispy,” Sid countered.
“How about you give me that bloody piece, and I’ll trade you the crispy one?” Lynx offered, seizing the chance.
“Hmm… OK. I like 'em crispy!” Sid agreed, and without a second thought, they swapped their portions.
Ju, after a satisfied sip of wine, leaned in and whispered, “Aren’t they talking a bit too much? I mean, what if the humans around here hear them?" she raised an eyebrow. "You know that talking beasts aren't exactly well-regarded in human society."
I sighed, realizing she had a point.
I poured the last of the wine into my glass, eyeing the bottle with regret. This was the only wine I truly liked, and my small stock of Earthly bottles was dwindling. Where would I ever find something like this again?
As I raised my head, I noticed a small procession forming outside the inn—Alice’s group was heading our way. I shrugged in response to Ju’s earlier concern.
“It’s my domain, isn’t it? I make the laws here, and I say talking beasts are fine. Besides, I can’t exactly forbid them from talking, that would be too cruel. If people have a problem with it, they can deal with me."
Ju arched her brow, but didn’t say anything, her attention shifting towards the noise coming from a building a bit farther from the inn, lit with red lanterns. A scantily dressed woman ran from the building, chased by a portly orc. My ears perked up, instantly focusing on their conversation.
“I’m leaving! I’m free, and you can’t stop me! These are my people, you bastard!” she yelled as she approached Alice’s group. I noticed the group around Alice tense up. Quickly, I pinged the orc. He didn’t seem like much of a threat: <
“Stella! Don’t do this to me! Please, the business is going well!” the orc pleaded in broken Vynaian, struggling to keep up with her.
The woman halted and spun around to face the orc.
“You damn exploiter! Time for payback!” she growled, raising her fist in a threatening gesture.
I quickly assessed her: <
The crunching sounds behind me suddenly stopped, as Sid must have sensed the shift in my mood.
“Mama, should I burn the orc?” he asked, his voice eager.
Sid clearly picked up on the person who was getting under my skin. I sighed. These orcs talk about honor? Doing the right thing? Is this what they consider honorable? I took a deep breath, wondering if a public punishment might be in order.
Just as I was weighing the decision, the orc raised his hands in desperation.
“OK, OK, I'll raise your share to eighty percent! How about that?” he said, clearly anxious.
The woman stood there, as if considering her options, likely thinking about how to make him squirm.
“How about eighty-five, and we’ve got a deal!” she countered, her voice sharp.
She certainly had him squirming!
“But, but, Stella,” he stammered, wringing his hands, “you know I’ve got to pay the cleaning staff, cover the broken furniture, all those repairs! How could I manage with only fifteen percent left? Would you take over those expenses?”
“No!” she snapped. “You’ve been exploiting me with that sixty percent cut for too long, and now that I want out, suddenly you can offer me eighty? Eighty-five!” she repeated, more stubborn than ever.
“But, Stella, nobody gets eighty-five percent. Eighty is the most I can give, honestly!” He tried to sound reasonable, eyes darting nervously. “Come on, you’ll catch a cold standing out here barely dressed. Let me cover you,” he added, slipping off his jacket to drape it over her shoulders.
“But then, eighty percent, and no tricks this time?” she asked, walking beside him back toward the building.
I rolled my eyes. These long ears I’ve got really are a treasure.
“You can keep eating, Sid. No need to burn the orc today,” I said, watching the pair as they disappeared inside.
A massive yawn echoed behind me.
“I’m done, and I’m sleepy, ma. Can I sleep here? Will you tell me a bedtime story?” Sid caught me off guard and for a few moments, I didn’t know how to respond.
"I'm sorry, it's not possible right now," I eventually said, my mind scrambling in a panic. Tell stories? What stories could I even tell? "I need to talk to Alice and the others," I added quickly, hoping that would satisfy him.
He sighed behind me, then his enormous head nudged closer.
"OK, tomorrow then? Promise? Pretty please? And... a goodnight kiss now?" he asked, his big black eyes pleading in a way that made it impossible to refuse.
I could only nod. This was emotional blackmail at its finest. How could I say no when he looked at me like that?
I gave him a quick kiss on his brow and gently caressed his cheek, waving to Alice with my free hand. Sid retreated a few steps, then curled himself into a pretzel-like shape, now resembling a small black hill resting behind me.
As the group approached, my ears perked up tuning into their conversation.
“We should go free that girl! She’s from the 103rd regiment! We need to find out what happened to them!” Durham urged, his voice filled with determination.
“But from what I’ve heard, Stella seems to be free,” Moran said, sounding doubtful.
“No! Durham's right! I don’t trust those orcs. We need to get her out of there, bring her here, and hear her side of the story!” Laona, the mage, insisted.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
My followers from Ahetia's Lion were making most of the noise, clearly energized by the idea. Meanwhile, the boys from Earth, along with Tina, stood quietly behind Alice, observing the situation without saying much.
“Let’s hear what Lady Lores has to say first,” Moran interjected as the group finally reached me. The chatter died down, leaving only Hexera's nervous stammer to break the silence:
“Do... do... is that... is that the dragon? Does it… does it listen to you?” she asked, her voice barely steady.
A ripple of murmurs followed, as if they were only now noticing the mountain of a dragon curled up behind me. Eyes widened, heads tilted, and whispers of awe filled the air.
“Do we really have a dragon?”
“Not we—Lady Lores does.”
“Is it real?”
“You’ve seen it before.”
“But I’ve never seen a dragon!”
“It’s real!”
“Weren’t there two at the crossing? Where’s the second one?”
“What portal was that?”
It seemed Alice hadn’t briefed them about Sid.
“Yes, it’s real,” Lynx said calmly from behind me, “and please lower your voices—it’s sleeping.”
"The beast speaks!" Krassem yelped in surprise, making Ju's earlier warning ring true.
"Anyone who calls me a beast from now on is lunch," Lynx decreed. He was joking, of course, but the group didn’t seem to catch that.
"I'm... I'm out of this!" Dozha suddenly exclaimed, glaring defiantly at me.
It caught me off guard, and before I could respond, she turned on her talons and stomped toward the inn.
"Can she just leave like that?" Laona the mage asked, startled.
I shrugged. She’d already cashed in for the day, and it was nearly over.
"Of course. If she doesn’t want to stay—" I began, but then Laona cut me off, her voice sharp.
"Then I'm out too! Talking beasts is too much for me!"
Realizing what she had said, Laona spun on her talons and sprinted toward the archer. All eyes immediately shifted to Lynx.
“She called your bluff!” Tom said with a chuckle.
Lynx rolled his eyes. “I never said who's lunch she'd be. Maybe the fleas will have her,” he added, trying to wiggle his way out of it.
The group chuckled, and the tension hanging in the air finally seemed to ease.
“So, what's the plan?” Alice asked, her eyes fixed on me as the group gathered around the table in a loose circle.
I opened my mouth to answer when Sid’s deep dragon voice suddenly boomed from behind.
“Mama, I cannot sleep!”
Though the words were slurred with sleepiness, most of the group caught enough to understand. Every head turned toward me in shock. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It seemed that it didn’t matter how often I told him to call me Lores.
“What’s the problem, Sid? Are we being too loud?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“No, but I feel lonely. Will you come sleep by me when you're done?”
I froze. How had I ended up in this situation? I took another deep breath, then another, but no amount of breathing was going to change the fact that I couldn't say no. Damn it!
“Sure, Sid, but it might take a while,” I finally said.
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he mumbled. “If I know you’ll come, I’m fine…”
His breathing evened out, and the heavy silence that followed seemed almost louder than before. I downed the rest of my wine in one swift gulp, steeling myself before anyone could ask any more questions.
“I just spoke with Drackar, the orc captain,” I began, breaking the silence. “He’s willing to hand over the domain without a fight. In fact, he’s offered for his orcs to stay on as our garrison.”
A few moments passed in stunned silence.
“Work with the orcs?” Durham murmured, his voice barely audible. A wave of whispered conversations spread through the group.
“What does that really mean for us?” Alice asked, cutting through the murmurs.
“It means,” I said, looking around the circle, “we’ll have control over the domain—administer it however we see fit. And the orcs? They’ll be our security, manning the forts. Basically, what any mercenary troop would do, but already in place.”
“Do you plan to accept?” Tom asked.
I shrugged. “Well, we’d need troops one way or another. Moran, Durham, what do you think—how many soldiers would we need to defend this domain properly?”
The two exchanged glances before Moran answered, “It depends, but I’d say at least fifty to a hundred soldiers, plus a few mages, to provide basic defense for the castle.”
Durham nodded in agreement.
“Let’s go with a hundred,” I said, calculating quickly. “That’s ten gold per day for a hundred soldiers, right? That comes to about three hundred and twenty gold per Kargath. For fifty soldiers, it’d be half—around one hundred and sixty.”
“Sure,” Durham replied, “but that figure includes everything—food, uniforms, weapon upkeep, the whole deal. Plus, it’s the cost for a campaign. It should be less for a garrison just stationed in one domain.”
“How much less?” I asked.
“About half,” Durham said.
“I see,” I replied, mulling it over. Even with that reduction, Drackar's offer still seemed generous. His orcs might be eating from the domain’s resources and staying for free, but it was still a deal worth considering.
“Mama...” Sid mumbled again from behind me. I couldn’t tell if he was half-asleep or still awake.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, just a moment... dear,” I replied, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on me.
“Mmmmm...” Sid started a low rumbling chant, which, despite his intention, sounded a bit ominous. I noticed a few concerned glances from the group.
I sighed and turned to Alice. “Well, I’ll sleep on it. Let’s meet tomorrow morning for breakfast?”
*
Drackar raised his hand, eyeing the one-liter jar he held with a bemused chuckle.
“She served me this tiny glass of sweet, bubbling wine. The thing was so delicate I thought it might shatter if I touched it! Who actually drinks that?”
“Elves?” Woktarod suggested.
“Yeah, considering her ears, she’s probably trying to emulate one of those long-eared elves, like most human nobles,” Wetina chimed in, smirking.
Woktarod, eager to keep her engaged, added, “I’m not sure though... Those didn’t really look like elven ears to me. More like some beastkin’s ears, wouldn’t you say?”
Wetina, as usual, brushed off Woktarod's attempts at conversation, leaving him visibly deflated. Though she had positioned herself between Wokta and Drackar, she leaned closer to Wokta. It wasn't that she had any genuine interest in the giant; she simply enjoyed stirring Woktarod's emotions, particularly since he was either too stubborn or too oblivious to realize his advances were unwelcome.
Hordius, watching her manipulations, rolled his eyes in mild exasperation, while Wortar let out a sigh, shaking his head at the familiar scene. Wetina's antics had become something of a routine, and it seemed only Woktarod remained unaware of the game being played at his expense.
Meanwhile, Wokta, the giant of the group, sat quietly, his massive hands clenched into fists. Ignoring the chatter about wine and ears, he let out a heavy sigh.
“So... we’re just giving up without a fight?”
He looked down at his hands, clearly uncomfortable. He was feeling small and weak even if he dwarfed everyone there, even Drackar.
Drackar glanced at Wokta. The quiet shame in the giant’s voice wasn’t lost on him.
“Is she really a dragon?” Wetina asked, shaking her short, curled hair as she raised her jar to clink it with the others.
Drackar huffed. “Wokta, remember 'The Art of War' by Drocktar? What do you do when the enemy’s power is overwhelming?”
“I know, captain, I know,” Wokta replied, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. “But it still doesn’t sit right.”
Drackar sighed. “Trust me on this, Wokta. I believe it’s the right move.”
He then turned to Wetina, the only female captain among them. “I’d bet she is a dragon. If someone had told me I’d be striking deals with one, I wouldn’t have believed them!”
He chuckled, shaking his head before continuing. “She didn’t even flinch when I offered for us to stay on as guards, like it was just... normal. Human, orc—it didn’t matter to her. The deal was what mattered. Now tell me, which human lord would ever consider us for something like that?”
“You make a point, but… is that all the evidence you’ve got to call her a dragon? She could just as easily be someone who owns a young dragon,” Hordius said with a shrug.
Drackar shook his head. “Remember, there were two dragons. So where’s the second one? And that ‘baby’ dragon walks around freely, calling her mama. That tells you plenty. She’s likely using an avatar to pass among humans, but she’s not what she appears to be. When you look at her, you’re seeing layers of illusions, not her true form. She’s probably got a tail and claws beneath it all. I’m almost certain she is a dragon.”
“Most dragon stories don’t have happy endings,” Wetina said thoughtfully. “There have always been rumors about dragons living up in the northern mountains. You think they’ve woken up now? Gonna burn the whole land to ash?”
“If she wanted to burn it down, why go through the trouble of getting ownership documents for the domain?” Drackar replied. “I think they’re just curious about us. I wonder what the king knows. Our spy at court warned us that a kingdom hero was granted this domain. And if you’re a dragon in disguise, it probably isn’t hard to become a ‘hero.’”
“Do you think she’ll accept your offer?” Wokta asked, the one-liter beer jug looking small in his massive hand.
“I’ll bet one silver she does!” Wortar said, raising his thumb.
“I’ll double that—she won’t,” Hordius countered.
“Deal!”