Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 49 - Shock and awe - Part One
The birds-eye view afforded from the saddle on Ushu’s back made surveilling the fifth floor of the Mordran Labyrinth a straightforward affair. The terrain was hilly with small copse’ of trees, small streams, and patches of hard exposed dirt.
According to the Guild’s records, three independent tribes of Variants claimed territories across the fifth floor. Two of the tribes had been on good terms and traded with the guild, while the third was openly hostile.
It was the third tribe that Ushu and I were looking for. According to the mercenary Guild’s records, the Stonepaw tribe had a small fortress in the southern hills of the floor. Nestled atop the largest of the hills in the general area, Ushu had no trouble spotting it from miles away and was flying us straight toward it.
Ushu circled above the fortress at a safe altitude while I did my best to determine if the Stonepaw had any siege engines. Or, more accurately, waiting for Gregory to determine if there were any siege engines.
#Archers. Only.# Gregory signed, exaggerating the motions to make them clearer.
I nodded and gave Ushu’s neck two hard slaps to signal for him to land.
With so much open ground available, Ushu landed atop a nearby hill, gouging the earth and stones with his claws as his hindquarters unintentionally pivoted ninety degrees. Ushu wasn’t quite used to landing and had a tendency to just anchor his foreclaws to generate traction while his hind claws raked through the ground to generate drag for deceleration. All things considered, he was actually doing a very good job.
I summoned a roasted and spiced Swamp Lurker from Sanctuary’s special storage as a sign of my appreciation, and so Ushu could regain a little energy.
“They certainly know we are here,” Gregory commented, nodding towards the not-too-distant fortress.
He was right.
Small armoured figures had begun running to and fro atop the walls and towers of the fortress.
“Ambassador, it might be best if you remain with his Majesty’s companion while we attempt to open diplomatic channels,” Gregory suggested in a tone that made it abundantly clear that he was, in fact, not asking at all.
The Asrusian ambassador, a somewhat chubby noble youth, was still struggling to dismount but coloured somewhat in the cheeks all the same. To his credit, Byron had volunteered, ignoring several not particularly subtle recommendations from his own parents in the process. “Ah, well...If you think it would be best,” Byron agreed reluctantly, finally freeing his right boot from the stirrup that had been holding him prisoner.
Byron’s position as ambassador was something of a formality. It was abundantly clear, at least to me, that Gregory was the one expected to conduct all meaningful negotiations with the Variant tribes that would be annexed into my Demi-Plane.
If Variant tribes refused to peacefully coexist, they would be relegated to the Prison Labyrinth. If they wanted to be left alone, I would relocate them to the Parole Labyrinth. As much as I would have preferred to leave them alone entirely, it wasn’t really an option if I wanted to take the remaining territory of any given floor.
After strapping a large shield to my left arm, I slipped a winged mace into my belt and strapped the sword belt holding my machete onto my waist. There was a strong likelihood that negotiations would devolve into violence, and I wanted to be prepared.
Gregory was in the process of donning a steel breastplate over his chain hauberk and padded armour, apparently taking the situation as serious as I was. Of course, Gregory was far more vulnerable than I was in the first place.
Once Gregory was ready, we began our slow approach towards the main entrance to the fortress.
The fortress walls looked like they were made from stones stacked on top of one another and bound by dried and hardened mud. All things considered, it seemed surprisingly durable and stable. Judging just by the size alone, constructing the fortress had likely been the effort of multiple generations.
“They have tunnels and escape routes all over the hillside,” Gregory warned, nodding his head toward an otherwise innocuous shaggy hump of grass, “They will likely attempt to ambush us from behind, but a show of force should scatter them.”
I nodded but kept my attention focused on the gate to the fortress up ahead.
Contrary to our expectations, a band of Stonepaw marched out of the fortress before we had even made it halfway up the hill. Close to fifty in all, the small stature of the Stonepaw made it tempting to dismiss them out of hand. However, having experienced what Goblins were capable of when playing to their strengths, I was quick to readjust my expectations.
Kobolds were an oddity amongst oddities by Labyrinth standards. Two Species shared the same name and were close to identical in all but appearance. The difference in appearance was because one Species of Kobold were reptiles and the other were mammals. The Stonepaw were the latter.
In most respects, mammalian kobolds were like much smaller Gnolls only with wolf-like features instead of hyenas. The tallest amongst them seemed to be only three and a half feet tall. However, they seemed incredibly well disciplined, keeping a tight formation with the frontmost rows bearing long spears at the ready to deter Gregory and myself from just charging into them.
However, it was the armaments of the rear of their formation that gave me pause. Armed with slings and small shields, the Kobolds could probably deal some real damage to Gregory and perhaps even myself if we weren’t careful.
Commanding the high ground, there would be nothing stopping the slingers from pelting the both of us while the spearmen did their best to hold us back. The formation and choice of location very much played to their strengths, which in spite of everything I found somewhat reassuring. Remaining inside of their fortress would have been the better tactical decision if they wanted a fight, so I could only assume that we would have a chance to talk before any hostilities broke out.
Unless they were only buying time to outflank us with their spider-holes.
The slingers of the kobold formation came to a halt about fifty feet away and the spearman at thirty feet.
Just like their larger Gnoll cousins, the Kobolds were armoured in patchworks of bones, hide and boiled leather. Their spearheads looked like they were forged exclusively from recycled metal, which gave me an idea for how we could buy some goodwill.
“***** ** *** ****?!” A larger dark-furred Kobold in the rear ranks of the spearman formation barked what might have been a question or a demand, but it was difficult to tell.
“We come in peace!” I called back, hoping that someone amongst their ranks knew more than just their own Species' language. Seeing no immediate response I decided to take a small risk. Summoning an iron ingot from Sanctuary’s communal storage into my hand, I tossed it underhand up the hill and it landed a few feet short of the front rank of spearman.
To their credit, the spearman didn’t so much as flinch. However, the slingers were a different story entirely. The moment I began to throw the ingot, the slingers began spinning their slings in response.
“****!” The larger Kobold barked in response to the ingot falling short of the front rank of spearmen, and the slingers cautiously stilled their slings. “**** ** ** **!” The dark-furred Kobold pointed emphatically towards the ingot while barking what was almost certainly an order for someone to retrieve it for him.
A Kobold from the left rear flank set his spear down on the ground and then hurriedly moved around the formation, easily passing beneath the front row of spears before retrieving the ingot. “****! **’* ****!” The smaller Kobold yipped excitedly and ran back around the formation to present the ingot to the larger Kobold.
A hurried exchange of yips, yelps, snarls and growls took place before the same smaller Kobold was sent back up the hill with the iron ingot.
A short while later, a larger but much older-looking Kobold with greying fur was escorted down the hill by another formation of fifty Kobolds and what looked like a small elite retinue of ten more Kobolds with halberds.
The two large formations took up angled flanking positions on the left and right while the older Kobold and his retinue approached down the centre.
The arrival of the older Kobold appeared to make the younger Kobolds nervous, so I assumed that he was most likely an important member of their tribe.
The older Kobold and his retinue stopped twenty feet away up the hill. “What. You. Want?” The greying Kobold demanded, each word accented with a nervous growl.
“Peace, trade, and cooperation,” I replied, deciding that Gregory’s position as a Human would probably complicate things if he took the lead on this occasion.
The older Kobold’s ears flattened against his helmet nervously, “Trade?” He repeated back to me, “Trade. What?”
I conjured a stack of iron ingots into my right hand and then dropped them to the ground for dramatic effect, “Iron, for peace and loyalty.”
The eyes of the scarred veterans in the elder’s retinue grew wide in surprise as the ingots fell to the ground.
The Kobold elder was far more reserved, “Iron. For. Peace?” He asked warily.
I nodded, “I know that you were at war with two human tribes,” I paused so the Kobold would have time to translate what I had said, “But I have defeated them and now rule in their place.”
The Kobold elder looked incredibly nervous.
“So, I offer peace, and payment for crimes against your people,” I summoned a stream of ingots onto the hillside, “I offer your people a chance to trade with those who wish to be your allies, a chance to harvest iron ingots at their source and other treasures besides,” I summoned a handful of magical spears and dropped them alongside the large pile of iron ingots, “We will return in three days for your decision.”
With the Kobolds collectively reeling in shock, Gregory and I made our way back to Ushu and Byron.
“That was an interesting approach,” Gregory observed with amusement, “And it just might work. They seemed desperate for iron, let alone steel.”
I nodded, “I figured that since they are a low-tier Evolution on a relatively high floor, they can’t just make do like the Orcs do. What’s more, without the Guilds to poach iron and steel off of anymore, good iron has to be at a premium in terms of perceived value.”
“So your Majesty showed them tangible benefits for becoming your subjects,” Gregory smiled shrewdly, “And the three days is to have them convince themselves and one another so we don’t have to?”
“Ideally,” I agreed with a sigh, “Gregory, I want people to want to be my subjects, I don’t want to force them just because I can. If they weren’t on land I wanted, I would have just left them alone.”
We continued walking in silence until we returned to Ushu and Byron.
“Uh, is it my turn now Majesty?” Byron asked nervously, abandoning his attempt at strapping on his breastplate.
“We are giving them three days to think things over first,” Gregory explained while removing his own breastplate and stowing it away.
Byron looked disappointed, “Oh...”
“But you will be taking point with the Chiefs of the Shalehoof and Windrunners when we return to the foothold,” Gregory added to help lift the young man’s spirits.
“For true?” Byron asked excitedly.
I nodded in confirmation while removing my own breastplate.
The Shalehoof and Windrunners were not expected to put up much resistance. No less fierce than any other monsters, they had not traded with the Guilds out of a desire for material goods so much as an awareness that it provided a limited form of security and protection. It was part of the reason why the two tribes traded with one another as well.
The Shalehoof and Windrunners were a Satyr-like monster called Braymen. Their collective Species was known as Goatmen and the fifth floor had large nomadic war parties of the wild Goatmen prowling the hillsides. The Shalehoof and Windrunners were the first examples of Variant communities I was aware of that had managed to Evolve past their wild counterparts on the same floor.
As I understood it. The sheer number of manastones required to hatch each successive generation often outstripped the available supply. So the adults would Evolve a few minor steps at best throughout their lives and it would be up to chance whether the next generation would inherit that progress or not. Somehow, the two tribes had clawed their way up a full Evolutionary tier, and I was curious to find out how.
Following his outstretched arm, I didn’t see anything at first. Coaxing Ushu Eastward, it took a while before I managed to see what Gregory was warning about. A large warband of Goatmen was headed to the South-West.
Engaging the Goatmen in a ‘fair fight’ was off the table. However, we couldn’t just leave the warband to attack the Stonepaw either. It was practically guaranteed that anyone in opposition to becoming my subject would use it as an excuse to convince others that I wasn’t to be trusted.
Without being asked, Ushu began adjusting course towards the warband. Just like that, the decision was made.
“MASKS!” I roared in warning, “WET YOUR MASKS!” With the wind whipping past my helmet, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure Byron and Gregory were obeying the command. We were already wearing bandanas to help protect our faces from the wind, but they were actually intended for a different purpose entirely.
I pulled the waterskin from my belt, uncorked it, and squeezed the contents over my face to soak the bandana. My secondary pair of eyelids snapped shut to protect my eyes, distorting my vision slightly but otherwise allowing me to see.
A deep rumbling growl began to grow in Ushu’s chest, vibrating up my thighs and through the rest of my body.
With little warning, Ushu began to dive, rapidly taking on speed and evaporating the distance between us and the Goatmen warband.
“BRACE!!!” I roared in warning, clutching at the specially made handles on the saddle.
Just a few moments later, Ushu unfurled his wings and abruptly arrested his descent while maintaining the majority of his original momentum. Arching his neck back for a moment, Ushu appeared to take in a deep breath, then, just before reaching the space above the closest Goatmen, Ushu lowered his head again.
Ushu’s muscles contracted and a billowing cloud of near-transparent gas erupted from his mouth. The stream of gas didn’t stop until Ushu flew clear of the now fleeing stragglers at the tail end of the warband.
Banking to the right, Ushu began flapping his wings to regain altitude. This afforded me a largely unrestricted vantage point for the carnage below.
The entire hillside was bathed in a faint haze. The Goatmen were staggering about, their weapons now discarded on the ground as they began to suffocate. After only a few moments, the weakest amongst them began to collapse as their blistered airways and lungs succumbed to the gas still saturating the air.
Ushu continued circling the massacre from above, although I wasn’t sure why. Goatmen on the periphery had been allowed to flee, so he did not seem motivated by bloodlust. It wasn’t until the gas began to disperse and Ushu began making his way down to the ground that I understood why the massacre had taken place.
Ushu wanted what I had promised, he wanted to feed.
Sure enough, Ushu landed a short distance away from the carnage before fiercely beating his wings to further disperse the gas.
Once Ushu settled down, I took the opportunity to dismount and get some distance. Gregory assisted Byron in doing the same before the latter emptied his guts on the hillside.
Stolen story; please report.
I empathised with the sentiment.
In less than a minute, Ushu had killed close to five hundred people in one of the most heinous ways imaginable. It had not been conducted on my order, but I hadn’t attempted to stop Ushu either.
If I was honest with myself, I saw their deaths as inevitable, which made it that much harder to feel for their passing.
According to the reports Gregory had provided, the three tribes had no Shamans to create Wards against wild monsters. So the warband Ushu had killed was almost certainly on their way to siege the Stonepaw.
So far as I was concerned, if we had not intervened, or if I had prevented Ushu from intervening, any deaths amongst the Kobolds would have been my fault.
The nature of the Labyrinths blurred the lines, making it difficult to establish what acts were acceptable and against whom. However, at a certain point, choices had to be made, and I would have to find a way to live with them.
Short of using Enslavement to break the Labyrinth’s conditioning, the wild clones could not be reasoned with. With both acts being evil, death was the simpler solution. I would continue to endeavour to free Slaves where possible and offer them a chance at life, but my pity was all that remained for the wild monsters who attempted violence upon my people.
“What was that?” Gregory asked quietly, his voice muffled slightly by the damp cloth covering his lower face.
“A poisonous gas, or something like it,” I replied somewhat numbly, “Most of the Goatmen probably suffocated from the concentration alone...”
Ushu’s poisonous breath was not a Racial Ability, so it was difficult to be certain what it was exactly. However, after observing a number of the corpses from a distance and smelling the stench on the wind, I was inclined to think it was a lethal concentration of ammonia gas.
“Reeks of piss,” Gregory croaked uncomfortably.
I nodded, “Ammonia, your piss and shit have small amounts in it. Only, this is a gas, not a liquid.”
“And this is fatal?!” Gregory had begun fanning his cloak in front of his face to disperse the smell.
“In high enough concentrations,” I agreed. “We should move upwind,” I warned, unsure of where that would be and requiring Gregory’s expertise.
Gregory nodded and began dragging Byron by the arm.
Following behind them, I kept an eye on Ushu as he stalked the hillside, messily gorging himself on the fallen.
It was interesting to note that, unlike most predators, Ushu didn’t seem to find the smell of ammonia unpleasant. As best I could figure, this was most likely due to his Swamp Environmental Evolution. It would also explain why it didn’t particularly bother me either.
I didn’t believe that I would be any less susceptible to the gas in high enough concentrations, but it was interesting to note all the same. After all, Ushu was still actively disturbing the air with his wings, so I could only assume that he wasn’t immune either.
“Bwah, forgive me,” Byron apologised while wiping at his mouth with a new scrap of cloth, “Congratulations on your level, Majesty.”
I had disabled the majority of notifications a while ago since they often proved to be a liability. It was still odd that I hadn’t noticed the flash of golden light, but I could only assume that I had been too focused on the war crime taking place below to have noticed it.
A quick glance revealed that I had gained three levels, not one. Further investigation revealed that it was almost certainly because Ushu’s kills generated one-hundred per cent Exp owing to the fact that he had no Class.
For a moment, I considered the benefits, then I looked down at the field of corpses and put that particular train of thought on hold.
“Gregory, why can’t Beast monsters have Classes?” I asked somewhat absently.
Gregory didn’t reply immediately. “I do not know, Majesty,” he admitted.
I frowned as I considered the matter further, “Ushu is intelligent enough to understand advanced concepts and he can speak, so it seems arbitrary that he shouldn’t be able to unlock a Class of some kind. Right?”
Gregory slowly nodded his head in agreement, “I think I understand what your Majesty means.”
“Do Beasts ever Evolve into Evolutions that aren’t classified as Beasts?” I asked curiously.
Gregory was silent for a short while before shrugging apologetically, “Sorry, majesty, I do not know. I can have a team of scribes look into it if you wish?”
“Do it,” I agreed, finding the distraction somewhat comforting given the alternatives.
Contrary to my expectations, Ushu was still fully capable of flight after gorging on the lion's share of the corpses. It was most likely due to Iron Gut, but partially because Ushu began specifically biting off heads for their manastones and ignoring the bodies.
We made it back to the foothold in the late afternoon and Ushu settled in for a nap shortly after his saddle was removed.
Byron seemed particularly eager to negotiate with the chiefs of the Shalehoof and Windrunner tribes that were being entertained in the former guild office. Not that I could blame him.
For the sake of appearances, and as a general distraction, I decided to observe the proceedings.
For the most part, it was largely what I expected.
I gave Gorn, chief of the Shalehoof, and Ferin, chief of the Windrunners, guarantees that they would be allowed to continue representing their people independently of my other vassals so long as they refrained from acts of violence. Any degree of cooperation with the other tribes would be of their own volition.
Once that was established, the two chiefs, and their advisors, began negotiating with Byron to formalise a prospective alliance between themselves and the Asrus kingdom.
It was the late evening before both chiefs were comfortable with swearing oaths of allegiance and peaceful conduct. It was the latter that had given them pause initially until one of their advisors pointed out that the humans were under the same restrictions.
That had changed things very quickly.
In acknowledgement of their respective positions of leadership, I promoted the chiefs to Lords and their advisors to Underlords. Neither had seemed particularly interested in a Faction, so I left it at that. In addition to the promotions, each of the chiefs and advisors was given some generic magical equipment to serve as a temporary sign of status and provided Wards that could protect their villages during the transition.
I was actually somewhat surprised when one of the Windrunners advisors approached me afterwards.
Around five feet tall and with grey fur, Eris had a scraggly beard and thick wrinkles around his strange eyes. Largely human from the waist up, Braymen still had horns of varying sizes and shapes as well as cervid pupils and a large degree of thick fur. Dressed in simple leathers, there was a certain air about Eris that gave the impression of hard-earned wisdom that largely superseded raw intelligence.
“M-Majesty,” Eris bowed his head, emulating the Humans, “M-May we speak?” He asked politely.
I motioned towards the large opening in the wall that now served as a door, “Of course, but outside would be better.”
Eris eagerly nodded in understanding and trotted outside.
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked curiously after joining him outside.
Eris worked his jaw nervously for a few moments and shifted his hooves, “Why ask?” He asked simply.
“Instead of just taking over?” I clarified.
Eris nodded nervously, no doubt terrified that he had crossed a line.
“It’s a little complicated, but in the simplest terms, I need this land to help keep my family safe,” I explained carefully, “As strange as this seems, I won't be taking land from you, but making your land a part of something larger. Your people will be able to live in peace and have opportunities you never dreamed of. But that’s only possible if I ask. Slaves are only loyal so long as the master has the whip in hand, and I don’t want to make enemies for my children. Does that make sense?”
Eris stared at me with his strange eyes for a few moments and nodded, “Long peace is good,” he agreed with far less nervousness than before.
“Exactly,” I agreed, glad that he seemed to understand. “If you don’t mind, I have a few questions of my own.”
Eris looked slightly surprised for a moment before quickly rallying, “I will answer,” he insisted helpfully while trotting eagerly in place.
“What is your opinion of the Stonepaw tribe?” I asked curiously. If the tribe of Kobolds had been attacking the Guilds for resources, then it was also likely that they had hostile or strained relations with the Windrunners and Shalehoof.
Eris’ excitement ebbed noticeably, “The Stonepaw?” He asked warily.
I nodded.
“Stonepaw made much trouble with humans. Stonepaw leaves Windrunners alone. Only attack humans. Humans blame Windrunners. Made unfair trades...” Eris shifted uncomfortably, “More unfair trades,” he corrected while eyeing some of the nearby soldiers warily.
“I think I understand, but what about now?” I asked curiously, “Without humans to raid for iron and other materials, have they attacked your tribe or the Shalehoof?”
Eris shook his head, “N-No,” he bleated somewhat reluctantly.
“So the bad blood is limited to the humans punishing your people for their actions?” I pressed, wanting to be absolutely sure I wasn’t going to get blindsided by a blood feud.
Eris slowly nodded.
I sighed in relief. “Okay, what items did you actually want from the Guilds?” I figured that I could just pay off the tribes on the Stonepaw’s behalf and end the enmity here and now, allowing them to start over with a metaphorical blank-slate in the Demi-Plane.
Eris shook his head, “Nothing, just peace.”
His answer wasn’t entirely unexpected, so I was glad that I had a rather universal alternative. “Just to clarify, you can read, can’t you Elder Eris?” I asked politely.
“Yes?” Eris confirmed slowly.
I smiled, “Then I would like you to try something and tell me what you think,” I summoned an Evolution Elixir into my hand and offered it to Eris. The Elixir was made from tier five manastones, so I expected it to have noticeable results despite the Brayman being at least tier six.
Eris politely accepted the Elixir and unstoppered the clay flask, wrinkling his nose at the smell, “Firewater?” He guessed somewhat disappointedly.
“That is just an ingredient,” I agreed reassuringly, “Please, try some and tell me what you think.”
Eris shifted uncomfortably and cast a wary eye towards the other Braymen as he raised the flask to his lips and took a cautious sip. Trotting on the spot, the Brayman Elder sneezed and shook his head, “Stro-ong,” he bleated.
I nodded in agreement and shifted Eris into my retinue to help him metabolise the alcohol faster. “Unfortunately, strong alcohol seems to be the only substance the manaflowers and manastones will bind to.”
Eris’s eyes widened in shock and surprise, “M-Manastones?” He asked nervously, taking a moment to peer inside of the clay flask before taking a long pull. Eris smacked his lips thoughtfully and nodded, “I feel it,” he nodded excitedly to himself for a moment and blinked in surprise as he watched his hands grow slightly larger.
I was about to recommend Eris check his status to confirm things for himself, but he went running to his chief before I had the chance.
After only a short explanation, the Windrunners’ chief downed the remaining Elixir. Shortly after being shifted into my retinue, he rapidly grew a half inch in height.
As a group, the Braymen excitedly charged outside.
“You will trade?!” Gorn, chief of the Shalehoof asked eagerly, “Shalehoof have many hides!”
“Trade with Windrunners!” Ferin, chief of the Windrunners insisted, “Windrunners swear loyalty first!”
I raised my hands for silence, hoping to cut the two chieftains off before they said something they might regret or would otherwise damage their tribe's relationship with one another. “If you are willing to set aside your grudge with the Stonepaw tribe, I will gift Elixirs to both of your tribes.”
The Brayman muttered quietly amongst themselves.
“How much?” An Elder of the Shalehoof asked hesitantly.
I still only had a general idea of each tribe’s size, so I opted for a somewhat conservative figure, “Fifty Elixirs for each tribe, and the opportunity to trade for more,” I added, more as a reminder of the possibility than an intended bribe.
“Windrunners accept!” Ferin declared eagerly, much to my relief.
“Shalehoof accepts too!” Gorn declared a half second later, much to the relief of his advisors.
“I am glad to hear that we can put this feud behind us,” I stated magnanimously, “And to keep things fair, I would like to offer each of you an Elixir for being so reasonable.” Considering I had been willing to go fifty higher for each tribe, another six Elixirs wasn’t all that much to worry about.
One of the Shalehoof’s advisors looked like he was about to complain, perhaps intending to point out how the Windrunners had already been given an Elixir. However, he was preemptively silenced by his fellow advisor via a none-too-subtle thwack on the head with a walking stick. With three free Elixirs on the line, and fifty more besides, it probably didn’t seem worth rocking the boat over.
I gave each of the Braymen an Elixir and promised to have the remaining Elixirs delivered later.
Thanks to the wagons and Beasts provided by the Asrusian government, the delegation from each tribe would be able to return to their respective territories by midday. Assuming they left in the early morning.
I could have commandeered the Elixirs in full just as easily as the several others. However, unlike the iron ingots, the Elixirs, especially the higher tier Elixirs, were a relatively rare commodity. So, I wanted to give Gregory and Byron the opportunity to pass along the word to their respective superiors first, before springing the bill on them.
I could have taken the Elixirs from Sanctuary’s share, but I was confident that the Asrusians would take the hit without complaints. Between the two of us, we had a monopoly on the Evolution Elixirs, and the Humans had barely touched their ever-growing supply due to their limited Evolution potential.
Even now, I was confident that Byron would be negotiating early trade agreements for more of the Elixirs. If he wasn’t, he would be after contacting his superiors.
I turned in for an early night, electing to sleep outside so I could keep an eye on Ushu.
Waking up early, it turned out that I needn’t have bothered. Ushu was just as fast asleep as he had been the evening before.
Just as I had promised, I gave the Shalehoof and Windrunners the Elixirs before they left the foothold.
Expecting a long day ahead, I went back to sleep again.
Waking up for the second time, I found the foothold in a state of organised chaos as soldiers prepared the defences in anticipation of the waves of wild monsters that would be drawn by the Conquest.
Archers were posted on the rooftops and mixed teams of Swordsmen and Spearmen were posted at each gate and barricaded strongpoints. The few non-military persons in the foothold, such as Byron, were holed up on the top floor of the former inn under guard.
I gave Ushu a thump on the neck, “It’s almost time buddy.”
Ushu’s two sets of eyelids flashed open and his rapidly contracting pupil focused on me warily before he blinked and let out a huff of annoyance. Rising to his feet, Ushu very nearly demolished a nearby building with his tail while shaking himself awake. “Fooooooood?” Ushu’s nostrils flared as he raised his snout to the sky and scented the air.
I hesitated for a moment as the remnants of a moral dilemma attempted, and failed, to assert itself. “Soon Ushu,” I promised, “As much as you can eat.”
Ushu growled disappointedly before settling himself down on his haunches like a dog or cat. Lifting his left foreclaw, he lowered his head to stare at the golden ring on his middle claw. Rumbling in satisfaction, Ushu slowly turned his claw one way and then another to inspect the ring from different angles.
I found Ushu’s fascination with the ring, interesting. After all, it wasn’t his first exposure to gold, silver or jewels. As best I could tell, his obsessive fascination seemed to play into ownership of the objects in question. It was the only way I could explain why Ushu all but ignored the gold tracings and ornaments that accompanied Byron’s armour and clothing.
It was perhaps just as well, since a covetous dragon prowling for treasure would create all sorts of problems. Thankfully, not as many problems with how devalued the Labyrinths coins had recently become.
“All preparations are in order, Majesty,” Gregory reported, his borrowed bow at the ready.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, “This land is mine!” I growled, immediately prompting and initiating the Conquest. I would have left it to Gregory, but an Overseer wouldn’t be awarded unless I captured a territory in person. Even if it was limited to one per Labyrinth, the benefits thus far spoke for themselves.
Ushu’s nostrils flared and his dorsal rests fluttered eagerly, “Fooooood!” He growled in anticipation.
A chorus of shouts from the Scouts atop the walls confirmed it.
The monsters were coming.
“Ushu!” I gave his left hindquarters a hard thump to get his attention, “No gas! You can use your teeth, claws and tail, but no gas! Understand?!”
Ushu cocked his head slightly to one side before looking out over the wall again. Thick rivulets of drool had begun to run down his lower jaw and spatter on the ground. “Unnnnnderrrrrrsssstaaaaand,” Ushu echoed before running his tongue over his lips hungrily.
“That’s probably as good an answer as I’ll get,” I muttered before turning back to Gregory, “Make sure no one strays outside of the walls while Ushu’s out there. We don’t want any accidents.”
Gregory nodded, tightening his jaw slightly as he glanced up at Ushu, “Orders have already been given to that effect, Majesty. But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give a reminder all the same.” He bowed and then set off at a brisk jog towards the wall.
I could feel the ground beginning to vibrate and figured that the wild monsters were probably less than a few minutes away from the gate. “Remember Ushu! No gas!” I gave him another thump and waved him on his way.
Like a dog let off his leash, Ushu went bounding off towards the wall, easily overtaking Gregory before frightening a Scout half to death when he leapt up and over the wall.
Climbing the outside of the former Guild office, I could see a ragged wave of monsters headed towards the foothold. The largest concentrations were made up of Goatmen, but large bear-like felines, shaggy yaks with four horns, bloated-looking vultures and more could be seen amidst the approaching horde.
If any of the monsters were afraid of Ushu, they showed no signs of it. However, just like every other Conquest, the monsters paid Ushu no attention whatsoever until he made a point of being in their way or entering their reach.
Unfortunately for the wild monsters, this left them woefully unprepared when Ushu decided they were his next targets.
As deadly as Ushu’s gas attack had been, it was nothing compared to the raw carnage being wrought by his claws, teeth and tail.
Cracking his tail like a whip, Ushu blew two of the large shaggy yaks, Ironhorns, to pieces, dashing their organs over the hillside while casually beheading another with a swipe of his claws.
The wild monsters were overwhelmingly outclassed and didn’t stand a chance without some semblance of teamwork or cooperation.
The Goatmen seemed to be the only humanoid Species present, and they showed no signs of going out of their way to attack Ushu. If anything, they seemed to be making all the greater effort to reach the walls of the foothold.
Unfortunately for the Goatmen, their relatively clustered formations drew Ushu to them like a shark to chum.
In a maelstrom of bloody violence, Ushu turned a dozen Goatmen into a ragged scattered pile of entrails and limbs within moments. A literal living weapon, the Dragon seemed impervious to anything beyond momentary harm. Any injuries the wild monsters managed to inflict would heal in seconds as Ushu gorged himself on fresh meat.
Again and again, Ushu launched himself towards the largest concentrations of monsters.
Unable to retreat, the monsters were torn to pieces and devoured.
In many respects, watching Ushu rip and tear his way through a group of Goatmen was more confronting than his ammonia gassing of the warband from the day before. It occurred to me once more that I could try to rein in Ushu’s destructive impulses and instincts.
I could, but I wouldn’t.
The violence was necessary. An otherwise unavoidable evil to fulfil my desire of circumventing evils of a far greater magnitude.
So, I forced myself to watch. I refused to allow myself the excuse of ignorance. I knew what I was allowing Ushu to do. I had brought him to do it. I would not look away and blame someone else for my choices.
I chose this.
*****
Rolf and his pack carefully picked their way across the hillside while making sure to cover the sled teams and their cargo of sticks, bark and branches.
The giant human’s arrival and gifts had sent the tribe into something of a frenzy. The Stonepaw had never had so much metal at one time and they lacked the raw materials necessary to work even a portion of it before the giant human’s return.
This was why Rolf and a dozen other packs were scouring the surrounding hills for any resources they could find to fuel to the shaper’s firepits.
Wary of Goatmen that would be prowling the area, Rolf was surprised to find a flock of Guzzards circling a hillside in his pack’s intended path.
“Grrr! Scouts!” Rolf barked warily while scanning the nearby hills for potential threats.
Brof and Ref hurried to the front of the column. Older than most of the pack, Rolf knew that they could be trusted to stay out of trouble.
Rolf pointed to the circling Guzzards, “Go see! Rrrruf! Come back! Tell Rolf!” He ordered.
Brof and Ref scurried away to do as they were told.
In the meantime, Rolf directed the pack towards a patch of scraggly bushes that the workers could harvest while they waited for the scouts' to return.
Sometime later, Brof and Ref came running back to the pack.
“Much death!” Ref whined anxiously with his tail between his legs.
“Many Goatmen!” Brof added fearfully, “All dead! Torn pieces!”
The entire pack began to shift uneasily
Rolf had a responsibility to the tribe, to ensure that the pack returned safely above all else. He stood himself up as tall as he could and whuffed authoritatively in order to get everyone’s attention. “Finish harvest!” He pointed to the remaining bushes, “Then home!” Rolf commanded determinedly, “Scouts patrol! Now! Rrruf!”
The workers redoubled their efforts clawing away at the earth to excavate the remaining bushes, roots and all.
The scouts hurried to nearby vantage points in small groups and Rolf’s fighters formed a tight wall of bodies around the sleds and workers.
The moment the last bush was tied down in the sleds, Rolf called back the scouts and marched his pack back to the tribe’s den at double time.
Unsurprisingly, Rolf’s pack and assigned workers were the first to return. They had not been expected back until the early evening, so their early return received a great deal of attention.
Rolf smelled Grolf before he saw him and did his best to mentally prepare himself for his public shaming.
“You. Grrrr. Rolf! Return early!” Grolf snarled angrily from the mouth of a nearby tunnel.
In spite of himself, Rolf’s ears flattened and his tail tucked itself between his legs.
Grolf emerged from the tunnel and stalked straight towards Rolf, the dark fur of his hackles raised in anger, “Grolf tribe’s den pack leader! Rah! Rolf obey!”
Rolf whined and lowered his head and shoulders in submission, “Rolf obey,” he whined meekly, “Not safe. Scouts find many dead Goatmen. Rolf bring pack home...” Rolf sincerely hoped that Grolf was in a listening mood. The last member of the tribe who openly defied him had lost an ear.
Grolf’s snarl deepened. However, contrary to Rolf’s expectations, Grolf did not attack him. Instead, Grolf took a firm hold of the scruff of Rolf’s neck and began to drag him across the upper den, “Hrmph! Rolf will tell chief!” Grolf declared irritably.
Rolf did his best not to resist, scampering as best he could so Grolf did not have to actually drag him. The last thing he wanted to do was give Grolf an excuse to exact additional punishments. Grolf may be Rolf’s father, but he knew better than to expect favours or leniency. Grolf held all pack leaders to the same high standards and meted out punishments accordingly.
Entering the tunnel down to the chief’s den, Rolf’s eyes adjusted almost instantly, giving him a clear view of the sloping and winding path beneath his paws.
Arriving at the bottom of the tunnel, Rolf was dragged past the chief’s personal guards and into the chief’s den proper.
Like the other dens of the tribe, the chief’s den had walls of stacked stones and the ceiling was supported by thick logs to prevent a collapse. Unlike the other dens, the chief’s den had all manner of strange objects that the chief and his predecessors had collected since the beginning of the tribe.
“Chief!” Grolf barked deferentially and threw Rolf forward, “Rolf brings warning!”
There was a long silence while Rolf stared at the floor and did his best to look as small as possible.
“Warning?” The chief asked, sounding both curious and apprehensive, “Tell chief. What is warning?” He demanded quietly with only the hint of a growl.
Rolf had the good sense to keep his head lowered to the floor, “Rolf see many Guzzards. Send scouts. Scouts tell many dead Goatmen. Scouts old. No scare easy. Scouts scared!” He whined while doing his best not to name the scouts. Leadership was his burden and responsibility. Rolf had decided to return to the tribe's den, not the scouts.
“Rolf sent which way?” The chief asked warily. By his tone, Rolf could tell that the chief was addressing someone else.
“Second arrow,” a female voice replied quietly.
There was a long silence.
“Flying beast flew toward second arrow...” The chief grumbled worriedly, “Big beast. Many dead Goatmen?”
There was another lengthy silence.
“Rolf serve tribe well,” the chief declared, “Rolf go. Grolf stay.”
“Rolf go!” Rolf agreed hurriedly, rising just enough so he could scamper out of the chief’s den.
Heart pounding as he scurried up the path and out of the tunnel, Rolf felt a surge of happiness as he realised that he had made the right decision in returning to the tribe’s den. The importance of the warning worried him, but Rolf was confident that the chief would know what to do.
Rolf found his pack waiting for him, or at least waiting for someone with the chief’s authority. “Guard tribe den!” Rolf barked energetically, struggling to suppress his happiness after proving himself to the chief.
Rolf’s pack scampered off obediently, forming themselves into smaller packs with the more senior members leading their juniors.
Brof and Ref had remained behind, and Rolf could tell that they seemed anxious about what had happened.
“Brof, Ref, do good!” Rolf encouraged them, “Warning good! Chief no punish Rolf!”
The scouts tails began to wag.
“Rolf no punished?” Ref asked hesitantly.
“No punished!” Rolf replied happily, jumping a little on the spot.
“We do good!” Bref cheered happily, doing a little dance of his own.
As much as he would have liked to indulge in the moment, Rolf didn’t want the scouts to get in trouble, so he shooed them away before Grolf could find them standing idle. Wanting to keep himself out of trouble, Rolf scampered off to find something to do as well. The last thing he wanted was to give Grolf an excuse to rip off one of his ears.
After all, Rolf only had two ears, and he wanted to keep them both firmly attached to his head for as long as possible.