After dinner, Francis sat down with Willow to go over the messages from his friend in the capital. There was a treasure trove of information. Unfortunately, it was too late to act on most of it.
“I have got to check my mail more often,” the Marine said as he became aware of yet another lost opportunity, “This is worse than the time I missed out on that free copy of Sports Illustrated. It was the swimsuit edition too.”
“What's a swimsuit?” asked Willow, propping her head up on her palms. They had moved to the bedroom as the night went on.
“It's clothing that you wear into the water,” Francis explained, “I sincerely hope that it never catches on here.”
“Agreed. Wearing clothes while swimming seems dangerous.” The Death Cleric leaned over and retrieved the stone tablet with the rest of Francis’ messages. “This is interesting. It's buried in the text of a report about timber prices. It seems that the orcs are mobilizing.”
“Is that good for us, or bad for us?”
She looked up at him with her big green eyes. “I'm not sure. It depends on where they're headed. Usually the orcs tend to fight each other and leave everyone else alone. But they've sacked the capital once or twice.”
Willow lay back on the bed, trying to remember details from one of her previous reincarnations. She looked to be a faun in her twenties, but the Death Cleric had centuries of experience to draw on.
“Yeah, it was about two hundred years ago. They cut through the Dark Forest and took the Silver River downstream to the capital. By the time people realized what they were up to, it was too late.”
He wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, but Francis understood historical precedents. What had happened once could happen again. “I'll ask our woodland friends if they know anything about orcs in places they shouldn't be.”
“Yeah, and I've got a meeting with the delegation from the Western Wilds. I'll see what they know.” Willow carefully set the tablet aside. “Now, let me give you your reward for dealing with that asshole Paladin.”
“Hot damn!” Francis said as Willow slipped out of her robes. He must have seen her naked a thousand times. But even if he saw her naked a million more, Francis didn't think he would ever get tired of that view.
***
Gradually over the next few days a picture came together. Orcs were headed south into the Dark Forest for some unknown purpose. The general assumption was that they would fell trees to create log rafts, and ride them down the Silver River to the capital.
“I'm surprised that the Dark Forest would allow this,” said Chuck, “Historically it has been practically homicidal towards anyone dumb enough to operate within its borders.”
The large possum known as Evandrel nodded. “Usually, yes. But apparently the forest is deciding to play nice with the orcs for now.”
“What are they like?” Francis asked.
Evandrel gave him an exhausted look. “Orcs? In a word, complicated. They've got a very complex social structure with more dukes and lords than you can shake a stick at. Historically they were into sea trade and colonization, but the ass fell out of that when the natives rebelled.”
The possum rocked back and forth in his chair as he tried to find the words. “Imagine for a second that you have the most violent, but also the most happy person you've ever met.”
Chuck sent one of his famous side eyes Francis’ way. “I'm sure I can imagine that. Please, go on.”
“Well, now add in a stratified class structure and a bunch of inbred royals and you've got orcs. Or rather, we have orcs. The happy bastards are eating everything in the Dark Forest they can catch.”
“You're right,” Francis said as he leaned forward in his chair, “We have orcs.”
Evandrel slowly nodded as he got the meaning behind the message. “Yes, we do. Now, how are we going to get rid of them?”
***
Willow’s meeting with the delegation from the Western Wilds also proved fruitful. They were aware of the situation and very much in favor of letting the orcs rampage.
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“Political relations between the awakened and the human kingdoms are not good,” she explained.
“Oh,” said Chuck as he helped himself to a bucket of beer, “It must be that pesky thing about them not considering us people. We can get a little touchy about that. Nobody knows why.”
“Well, politics aside,” Francis said as he grabbed his own mug of beer, “I'm not in favor of letting a bunch of orcs pillage their way down the river. Thousands of people are going to die, and I can't imagine it will make getting Brexis back on track any easier.”
“I would raise a counterpoint,” Mac purred as they got into Francis’ lap, “The world you come from is different than this one. There is another resource that fighting the orcs will provide. Something that can't be bought.”
The Marine took a second, but he got there eventually. “You're talking about experience.”
“Yes. That's the downside of having a gigantic horde of skeletons to do everything for you,” the demonic cat gave a toothy little grin, “Brexis was powerful in its heyday, but with a few exceptions its people were under-leveled. They didn't have many chances, or reasons, to grind experience.”
Francis digested this information. “Good to know. But, why hasn't the king done anything about the orcs?”
There was a long pause as Willow set down her beer. “It's complicated,” she said, “The king is in charge, but he really only runs his own city. The other lords bend the knee and send some taxes his way. But, if he wanted to raise an army to go after the orcs, that would require some political maneuvering.”
“It's not really a kingdom,” Evandrel chimed in, “It's more like sixteen lords in a cloak, pretending to get along. Even if he did raise an army to meet the orcs, it would probably destroy him.”
Willow nodded. “That's what happened the last time orcs attacked. The king drove them off, but it also cost him the throne. The lords had him executed and replaced with one of their own.”
“Kinda like the Japanese and the Mongols,” Francis mused, proud of himself for remembering the historical tidbit from his old world, “They defeated the horde, but the samurai threw a fit because there wasn't any treasure. I think they rebelled after that.”
“What's a samurai?” Chuck asked, looking up from his bucket of beer.
“They're basically knights from my world, just somehow more honor-bound and less fun at parties,” Francis explained.
“So, like a Paladin?” Willow asked. She was always trying to find out more about where he came from.
“No, but also yeah. It's complicated.” The Marine sat back in his chair and tried to think. The military had spent a lot of money on his education, poor as it was. But somehow, some of it had managed to stick.
The orcs needed to be persuaded to leave the Dark Forest before they ate everything. Forcing them to start their attack early would leave the orcs vulnerable as they traveled down the river. They would have to either overload their boats, or leave some of their forces behind.
Brexis itself would not be threatened by such a blunt instrument. Attacking a necromancer stronghold with overwhelming numbers was incredibly stupid. The fallen orcs would be added to Brexis' undead army, strengthening their defenses with each wave.
They could sit back and destroy any orcs that traveled downriver, allowing his people to grind experience. He wondered how many levels a Baker would get from flattening an orc captain with a trebuchet. It would probably be a good way for them to level up their new Clerics too, now that he thought about it.
Mac looked up at the Marine. “I take it that you aren't petting me because you are deep in thought and lack the ability to multitask. But, perhaps there is another factor to consider,” the demonic cat said with a yawn.
“The orcs lack the equipment necessary to crack the capital’s defenses. They have brute force and numbers, but no siege weapons. The King will hole up behind his walls with all his friends while the outer city and countryside burn.” Mac looked around mischievously. “It just so happens that Brexis used to produce some of the finest siege weapons in all of Vahnis. I'm sure that the orcs would pay quite a lot of money for such weapons.”
Francis didn't dismiss the idea out of hand. He had no issues with the kingdom of Grumble… yet. But the Marine could see that quickly changing.
Brexis was an independent city-state within the borders of a much bigger country. If things got bad for the kingdom of Grumble, the lords would look towards Brexis with greedy eyes. War against a common foe was always good for national unity.
Arming the orcs was a revenue positive way to wage a proxy war with the kingdom. Francis would have to confirm his suspicions, but he suspected that at least one other group was acting along similar lines.
The delegation from the Western Wilds were in favor of letting the orcs attack the capital unimpeded. They might even have had a role in kicking things off in the first place, assuming someone didn't beat them to the punch.
Francis absentmindedly pet his familiar as he thought things through. The way he saw it, they had three options when it came to the orcs. They could attack, ignore, or aid.
The Marine’s gut reaction was to kill them all. That would prevent civilian casualties and net his people a bunch of levels. Letting the orcs pass by unimpeded would weaken the kingdom while providing a level of plausible deniability. Depending on how that went, it might even buy Brexis a few years of peace while the kingdom rebuilt.
The third option was high risk, high reward. The kingdom of Grumble had Brexis almost completely surrounded. If the local lords were unified in their decision to destroy the city, they could do it. Once food and trade stopped flowing through Brexis, it would die out again.
However, if the kingdom fractured, Brexis would be too big for any one Lord to take on. And that was assuming no outside forces decided to take advantage of the situation. It wouldn't be hard for the elves or the awakened to claim new territory in all the chaos.
Francis set Mac aside and stood up. “I think I need to clear my head. I'll probably be back in time to lead service at the temple. But if I'm not there, feel free to start without me.”
Then, without any further explanation, the Marine walked out towards the garden. He had some thinking to do.