I sat in my chair, rubbing my temples, trying to ward off the headache creeping in. I knew my days were coming, and the realization both irritated and depressed me. How was I supposed to think clearly like this? Honestly, couldn’t they—whoever they were, attacking the barony—at least show some decency and call a truce for a few days?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, when a subtle shift in the atmosphere made me pause. The low murmur of voices around me had faded into silence.

I looked up—and there was Lynx, striding toward me with unmistakable pride, something clamped in his jaws.

I frowned, momentarily thrown. Why had he chosen to approach in his lynx form rather than as a human? It would make talking in front of all these people significantly more difficult.

He stopped just a step away from the table, dropped his cargo onto the ground, placed a firm paw over it… and then—

Meowed. Well, kind of.

“What’s this?” I asked, barely managing to keep the irritation out of my voice.

Lynx didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted his paw ever so slightly, watching intently—almost as if expecting his prey to make a run for it. Then, with an air of smug satisfaction, he stepped back, grinning like a cat that had just dropped a particularly interesting gift at my feet.

I sighed, exasperated by the theatrics, rolled my eyes, and pushed myself up from my chair. As I stepped closer, I got a better look at the pathetic heap on the ground, writhing and curling in on itself, as if trying to disappear entirely.

“Well now,” I mused, crouching slightly to get a better look. “What the hell do we have here?”

My Identify spell kicked in.

<< Warlock, Level Sixty-Eight >>

Oh. Oh.

A high-level warlock.

Well, wasn’t this interesting?

“Great Lady, oh, Great Lady, please have pity on me! Please!” the warlock whimpered, his entire body trembling.

I sighed. So now I have to interrogate this idiot?

“We’ll see,” I said flatly. “That depends on how willing you are to satisfy my curiosity—and not waste my time trying to fool me.”

Something was definitely wrong with him. He was clutching his right hand with his left, and from the way he lay there, unable to even push himself up, I couldn’t tell if he was too injured to move… or simply too terrified to try. His whole body shuddered, and his frantic eyes darted around as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

I raised a questioning brow at Lynx, but he pointedly ignored me, as if he had far more important matters to attend to.

Like his paws and claws.

Now sitting on his haunches, Lynx had shifted his attention to meticulously grooming himself, licking his paws between each curved talon with exaggerated care.

Around us, the gathered onlookers stared at him with a mix of awe and fear.

And Lynx? Oh, he knew they were watching. He was practically basking in it, despite doing everything in his power to appear uninterested.

I chuckled, watching as he carefully cleaned one massive claw after another—claws as long as sickles, gleaming as he displayed them with casual indifference.

Now that was a disturbing sight.

In the background, I could hear several peasants murmuring among themselves, but I couldn’t make out their words as Drackar’s voice cut through the noise.

“Lady Lores! I think you might want to hear this.”

I hate being rushed. As if dealing with this interrogation and an impending headache wasn’t enough, now he was interrupting me? How exactly am I supposed to work under these conditions?

I only forgave him because he was Drackar. But he owed me for this—big time.

Raising a brow, I gave him an intrigued look. His red eyes locked onto mine as he spoke.

“A certain Captain Schwarzkopf, leading two battalions of His Majesty’s soldiers, is currently stationed in front of the outpost at the Wailing Waterfall,” he said. “He’s requesting free passage to ensure peace and security in the domain.”

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temple. Oh, fantastic. Just what I needed today.

I blinked, stunned, but Drackar’s grin only widened.

“They just happened to be conducting exercises in the neighboring domain when they coincidentally heard from fleeing peasants that there was panic and disorder in your barony,” he explained, his voice dripping with amusement. “So, out of the goodness of their hearts, they’ve come to restore order.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. How on earth did any peasants even manage to flee the domain? They couldn’t teleport. And even if they had run, how fast would they have needed to be for these soldiers to already be knocking on our borders? Did they all fly here?

Before I could voice my frustration, Ju chimed in—just to make things worse.

“Just for your information,” she said, far too casually, “once they step inside your domain, you will be responsible for financing their stay. And, of course, they’ll have the right to weigh in on any security-related decisions. Oh, and they won’t leave until they decide order has been restored… to their satisfaction.”

She flashed me a tight smile. “Oh, and they’ll bring their own Xsoha accounting team.”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply.

I exhaled sharply, the sound coming out more like a deep, guttural growl than a sigh. Even I was surprised by the raw edge in my voice—as if the lynx in me had spoken instead. Maybe Lynx’s presence, watching the entire exchange with keen interest, was affecting me more than I realized.

“Oh, what a surprise,” I said through clenched teeth before turning my attention back to the warlock. “What can you tell me about this?”

He winced, as did most of the onlookers around me. My voice alone seemed to lash through the air like a whip, making them recoil as if I’d physically struck them.

“I—I don’t know, Great Lady!” the warlock whined, his entire body trembling. “All I know is that we sent a message after the third village was set aflame.”

“To whom?” I demanded, my voice dropping into another low growl.

He hesitated for a second too long. A gentle, but pointed tap of a claw against his side encouraged him to rethink his pause.

“I don’t know, Great Lady!” he blurted, words spilling out in a rush. “I was only paid to open gates—that was my entire job, Great Lady! How could I possibly know what they were planning?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Did you not just say the message was to be sent after the third village was burned? How can you claim to know nothing?”

He raised his trembling hands, the palms hanging as if broken, in a pathetic attempt to shield himself.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“T-that’s just what I heard them saying, Great Lady!” he stammered.

Liar or coward? Probably both. But either way, he had some of the answers I needed.

“Who hired you?” I demanded.

“A—a certain Danek!” the warlock stammered. “He was recruiting soldiers and warlocks at the Lyon’s Inn, Great Lady. Twenty gold per day just to open gates—as long as I had mana. No fighting, no questions, just make some damned gates—oh, pardon my speech, Great Lady! That was my job, I swear! I’m only good at making gates, Great Lady! I’ll open as many as you want—just please spare me!”

I rolled my eyes.

Drackar, however, took a step forward, his voice cutting through the warlock’s desperate pleas. “Apologies for the interruption, Lady Lores, but what should I tell our guards? According to their report, the soldiers at the outpost are looking very ready to force their way through.”

I sighed. Of course they are.

As if this day wasn’t already frustrating enough.

*

Tenessar cursed his luck. One day. One day per quarter, he was assigned to the orc outpost at this border crossing, and of course this was the day all hell decided to break loose.

The Easternmost outpost at the Wailing Waterfall was normally the quietest in the domain. The only traffic consisted of human merchants and the occasional peasant taking goods to sell in the neighboring territory. Everyone was friendly, paying the minimal toll with a joke or a grin. Ever since Lady Lores had taken over, peasants from the domain didn’t even have to pay anymore, and they were far happier to see his face at the checkpoint rather than an orc’s.

And now? Now he had two full battalions of hardened war veterans glaring him down.

A fast-trotting horse kicked up dust as the corporal rode up, his expression tense.

“Have you got an answer from your Lady?” he asked.

Tenessar shook his head. He needed more time—anything to stall and avoid a direct fight. Hopefully, Lady Lores would see reason and allow them passage. This kind of slaughter was pointless. A part of him still held out hope for her, while another part… another part was just afraid of what would happen if she refused.

Sooner or later, she would learn how things really worked in the Kingdom—just as so many others had before her.

“Not yet,” he replied with a deliberately casual shrug. “Who knows what she’s doing? I know how the Lady is—she could be sleeping, or eating. They’ll just have to wait until she has time for them.”

It wasn’t much, but it was the best stall tactic he had.

The corporal chuckled, shaking his head.

“Are you really that important to her?” he mused before shrugging. “I heard the domain is burning. Look over there—” he gestured toward a distant column of smoke rising against the horizon, then pointed to another in the distance. “And over there, too. I told you, the domain is in flames. We have orders to enter and restore order, whether you allow us or not. The captain only stopped out of consideration for you, but his patience is wearing thin.”

He paused, then smirked. “Ah, and here comes your answer now,” he added, nodding toward the approaching figure of a corpulent orc.

Tenessar turned to see Gorok trudging forward with his usual slow, balanced gait. Gorok? He was a peon—his job was to cook and carry baggage. Why on earth would they send him with a message?

Tenessar sighed. “Do we have any news?”

“Grunt.” The orc said—a clear yes.

Tenessar, having learned to interpret the orcs’ array of grunts, raised his brows expectantly. “So? What does it say?”

Gorok scratched the side of his thick neck before answering in the same casual tone he might use to announce the evening meal.

“Captain Drackar says the humans should mind their own business.”

Tenessar exhaled sharply. A cold wave ran down his spine, raising the hairs on his arms.

This was it. It was coming to a fight. And soon, he would have to make a choice. Would he stand by his word, fight alongside the orcs, and die with them?

Or would he throw away his honor and side with the humans?

He closed his eyes, accepting the inevitable. He would stand with the orcs. He would die for his honor. And no one would know, no one would sing of it, no one would even care. But that was just the way he was.

Still, a small, hopeless part of him clung to the chance of a miracle. “That’s all?” he asked, grasping for something—anything—that might change the course of what was coming.

Gorok shook his head, letting out a different kind of grunt.

Tenessar raised a brow.

“I’m not sure I got the Lady’s message exactly right,” the orc admitted with a tired shrug. “Something about… a coming delivery, and what happened to attackers… and about would-be attackers. Or something like that.”

Tenessar sighed. For the love of the Gods… Why had the outpost leader sent this orc, of all orcs, to deliver an important message? They were only fifty meters away—he could have just come himself!

Still, a bitter part of him was almost grateful. Being sent to speak with the humans had given him an option. He always liked having an option. Even if it was an illusion. Even if it meant the orcs hadn’t trusted him enough to let him stay behind when things turned ugly.

And they would turn ugly.

There were only four more orcs at the outpost. How could they possibly hope to stand against two battalions? They wouldn’t even be a proper resistance—just a speed bump in the road.

Unruly, his gaze drifted toward the human lines beyond the trees. They weren’t in full battle formation yet, still lounging in that deceptive ease soldiers adopted before the order came.

But that could change at any moment.

“What does this mean?” the corporal asked, raising a brow. “Is this a threat?”

Gorok simply shrugged.

Before anyone could respond, a shadow passed over them—brief, fleeting. By the time they raised their eyes, there was nothing but the endless blue sky framed by the treetops.

Then—thud.

And another.

Tenessar turned sharply, his breath catching as two charred, blackened logs crashed to the ground behind them.

No. Not logs.

His stomach twisted as he looked closer—those were bodies. Burned beyond recognition, still smoldering.

A low grinding noise, like wind turning millstones, rumbled from the outpost. He turned just in time to see it.

A massive dragon had descended, landing behind the outpost with a grace that defied its size. It was so enormous that the outpost’s walls barely reached its knees, yet it moved with the effortless fluidity of a shadow gliding over the ground.

The sound came from stones, rocks, and wood being crushed beneath its weight, like dried leaves underfoot.

Tenessar had heard the stories—how everyone at the castle had spoken of the dragon. But stories were just words, fleeting and insubstantial.

This? This was real.

The dragon lowered its head, and for a brief, frozen moment, Tenessar thought this was it—he was going to die.

But the dragon didn’t strike.

Instead, it growled.

A deep, earth-shaking rumble that vibrated through his bones, through the ground, through the very air itself.

And then— It was gone.

With a single, powerful push, it launched itself into the sky, wings cutting through the air like a storm given form. The force of its ascent nearly knocked Tenessar off balance as it passed over them, a shadow swallowing the sunlight—

And then, just as swiftly as it had appeared— It vanished.

“So, that was it,” Gorok said simply, as if the entire display had been nothing more than a passing breeze. Then, in the same tone he used every day, he turned to Tenessar and announced, “Lunch is ready.”

With a grunt in the corporal’s direction, he turned his back on the humans and started walking toward the outpost, completely unfazed, as if this were just another ordinary day.

Tenessar took a deep breath, his gaze drifting back toward the human lines.

Total silence. Not a word, not a movement. The forest itself seemed to be holding its breath.

He shrugged and followed Gorok.

Whatever was about to happen next wasn’t his problem—not yet, at least. And if he was going to die today, he might as well do it after enjoying the best part of outpost duty.

The soup. Gorok was a second to none cook.