The interrogation had stretched on for nearly half an hour. Avi had meticulously probed every detail about the orc invasion, yet the leader of the mercenaries offered scant and largely negative responses.

"Boss, pardon my French, but I reckon this fellow's just blowing smoke," Rafe asserted after absorbing the details. "Talk of one-eyed behemoths, iron-clad titans, and sinister sorcery—it all sounds like hogwash! Where on earth do such fanciful notions abound?"

"Well, there might be some grain of truth amidst the embellishment. Didn't we stumble upon Chaos eggs previously? Facing the primary force of the beast horde in Midenhime, one shouldn't discount anything," Avi reasoned.

"Boss, you put stock in his tale?"

"While embellished, it's largely credible," he replied.

"Ah, then count me in," Rafe quipped, hands akimbo. "Still, I can't help but think this old coot's a right numpty. Abandoning the ranks just for plunder, spineless and pitiful, a bloody fool's errand. As a leader in Miden, one should confront such adversaries head-on, for it's either you or them!"

Such a statement, if directed elsewhere or uttered by another, would ring hollow. Yet, within the confines of Miden, both speaker and listener found it apt and fitting.

The deserter, spent and defeated, lacked the vigor to contest Rafe's assertions, instead opting to bury his head in the ground, seeking solace in the mingled scent of swine dung and earth.

"Release him," Avi decreed as he departed. "There's naught to be gained by his captivity; he's endured his penance."

"Boss, may I decide his fate?"

"As you see fit."

"Roger!"

With ease, Rafe extracted the man from the pigsty and steered him towards the woods. Along the path, villagers and mercenaries alike spat in disgust, expressing their disdain for deserters and brigands.

"Wh-where are you taking me?" the deserter managed to wheeze.

"Take a guess? The boss said to let you loose, but he didn't specify where. I've thought of a place nearby, fitting for your ilk. You'll soon find out."

...

Upon his return from the pigsty, Avi crossed paths with a halberdier on the verge of seeking him out. The soldier wasted no time in querying, "Captain, what's to be done with the captives?"

"Captives... let's see if we can assimilate them," Avi mused. "They've all had military training; they might prove useful."

"But Captain, do we truly need such spineless wretches?" The halberdier cast a disdainful glance at the prone prisoners. "They're deserters; they'll flee from us too."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Born and bred in Miden, they worshipped Ulric, the god of the White Wolf, believing close combat to be the epitome of valor and honor, while cowardice and desertion were to be scorned.

"Hmm... you have a point." After a moment's reflection, Avi nodded, swayed by the latter part of the halberdier's argument. "Deserters are inclined to flee anyway." He continued, "Let's incarcerate them for now, feed them leftover hay and cool water, so they don't perish."

"What's the point of keeping them?"

"To sell."

"Understood."

As the halberdier withdrew, Avi overheard his muttered musings:

"Where would we sell these castoffs... were it not for the captain's orders, I'd toss them into the Black Forest, one by one, let them taste the sting of betrayal from their comrades!"

"I suppose I'm granting them a reprieve," Avi sighed resignedly, preparing to gather his gear from his tent before venturing back into the Black Forest for further training.

"Boss, I dealt with that old codger," Rafe returned from the woods in time. "He blubbered like a babe before he left, a true coward."

"You tossed him into the forest?"

"Got it." "Did you untie him?" "Nope." "...Isn't that practically the same as killing him?" Avi sighed, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Well, since we're done with the fighting today, why don't you accompany me for a stroll in the forest?" "Sure thing!"

Moments later, fully armed and wielding their blades, the two cautiously made their way into the depths of the Black Forest. They had reached a particularly dense area, where the occasional cries of beasts and eerie, indescribable sounds sent shivers down their spines.

"Boss, it's awfully dark here, quite unnerving!" Rafe hoisted his greatsword onto his shoulder, scanning their surroundings vigilantly. "Did you come here every day before?"

"Yeah, last time we cleared out some greenskins, but I noticed signs of greenskin activity around here," Avi explained. "This is orc territory, yet we're seeing large groups of greenskins. I want to investigate what's going on."

"Why not bring a torch?" Rafe suggested, instinctively edging closer to Avi. "Boss, isn't it rather far-fetched for greenskins to tunnel their way here from the Brokentooth Tribe's territory?"

As he finished speaking, Avi suddenly realized a problem: it had been almost two months since the Night of the Witch, and perhaps that was ample time for the greenskins to tunnel their way here.

Considering the strained relationship between orcs and greenskins, the orcish hordes wouldn't tolerate greenskins traversing their territory in large numbers, and greenskins couldn't infiltrate without attracting attention.

But... what was their objective in doing so? Try as he might, Avi couldn't discern it. Humans and greenskins had vastly different thought processes, and he couldn't fathom the greenskins' motives. Perhaps they acted on impulse, spurred by some epiphany from a prominent greenskin.

"Boss, watch out!" Rafe's sudden shout broke Avi's reverie as he swung his greatsword towards the bushes. Accompanied by a scream, a thin, bony green arm flew out from the undergrowth.

A dirty, feeble goblin emerged, clutching its wounded shoulder as it fled. Its cries drew the attention of some 'companions' — forest beasts and a dozen or so other greenskins lurking nearby.

"Ready for a fight, Rafe," Avi raised his sword defensively. "Stay close to me; let's watch each other's backs."

"Got it!"

Seeing Rafe's excitement dispelled Avi's fear of the dark. Observing his companion's enthusiasm, Avi couldn't help but wonder if Rafe might have some affinity with greenskins.

"Zealous, straightforward, loves a good brawl... Rafe might really be able to strike up a conversation with greenskins..." Avi mused.

With that thought in mind, Avi thrust his sharp longsword into the belly of a young greenskin, using his left arm to block the opponent's battle axe. Pulling out his sword, he tore out a section of intestines.

The surrounding greenskins roared in a battle frenzy, engaging in a chaotic clash with a pack of Chaos Warhounds that had arrived sensing their intent. Amidst the tumultuous battlefield, Avi and Rafe stood, continuously cleaving their enemies into pieces.

"It seems like we'll be in for a lengthy bout..." Avi thought.