Chapter 70

The Druidess General

Half an hour passed in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of pages and the soft breathing of the orc children playing in the corner. Dojka, with the quiet efficiency of one long accustomed to caring for others, turned her attention back to Adom.

"You must be feeling better now," she observed, her voice carrying a note of gentle inquiry. "Can you stand up?"

Adom nodded, surprised by the strength returning to his limbs. "Yes," he replied, pushing himself to his feet with a steadiness that belied his recent incapacitation. As he stood, testing his balance, he realized that he felt much better than anticipated. His body, usually slow to recover from magical exhaustion, responded with an unexpected vigor.

Dojka's tea, he mused, was an anomaly. It was nothing like he had ever tasted—bitter, with an undercurrent of complex flavors he couldn't quite identify. Yet, it was frighteningly efficient, cutting through the fog of his enchanted sleep with surgical precision.

Adom made a mental note to ask Dojka about the herbal blend she used. There was something about it, a potency that hinted at depths of knowledge and herbal mastery he hadn't encountered before.

As Adom followed Dojka outside, the brilliant sunlight immediately enveloped him, a stark contrast to the dim warmth of Dojka's home. He was met with the vibrant cacophony of village life: children's laughter and playful shouts echoing as they ran through the open spaces, the rhythmic sound of a river flowing nearby, and the occasional clink and clatter of a hammer striking metal, resonating with the steady heartbeat of daily toil.

Squinting against the brightness, Adom noted the sun's high arc in the sky, signaling midday. I slept that long? he pondered, his internal clock disoriented by the unexpected depth of his recovery.

As his eyes adjusted, the village unfolded before him like a living tapestry. Thatched-roof cottages dotted the landscape, their gardens bursting with colorful flowers and lush greenery. The architecture was simple yet charming, with squared giant doors and windows that lent a cozy, welcoming air to each home. Stone paths wound through the village, connecting homes like threads in a quilt, bustling with villagers engaged in their daily routines.

The atmosphere was one of peaceful industriousness, with orcs tending to gardens, bartering goods, and conversing amiably in the open spaces. Children played freely among the trees and along the riverbank, their joyous energy infusing the air with a sense of hope and continuity. Oddly enough, there were much more children than adult orcs, the few ones present not minding Adom at all.

But what truly captured Adom's attention was the behemoth in the horizon. Looming large and serene, this colossal creature, resembling a mountain in its immensity, grazed peacefully at the village's edge. Its massive form was a gentle giant, integrated seamlessly into the village's life, its presence as natural to the inhabitants as the trees and the river.

Above, the sky was dotted with griffins, majestic and powerful, ridden by orc warriors. These creatures, with their fierce eyes and powerful wings, soared gracefully, patrolling the skies or perhaps simply enjoying the freedom of flight.

It was a village pulsing with life, each individual going about their day with a sense of purpose and community. The rustic simplicity of the setting, combined with the verdant landscape and the harmonious blend of nature and habitation, evoked a sense of timeless contentment.

Among the joyful noise of the village, a particular laughter stood out to Adom, carrying a tone he recognized. It was Valiant’s voice, unmistakable with its lively timbre. Curious, Adom followed the sound, drawn to its source among the vibrant chaos of playing children and bustling village life.

He found Valiant under the generous shade of a large tree. The mouse beastkin was surrounded by a captivated audience of orc children, their eyes wide with wonder and amusement. Zara sat nearby, her presence like a quiet stream, serene and observing, her lips curved in a soft smile that welcomed the joy of the moment.

Valiant was in the midst of a tale, his gestures animated and his expressions exaggerated, painting the scene with vivid colors of adventure and humor. He was recounting a day, he claimed, when he encountered a troll in the forest. The children leaned in, hanging on his every word, their imaginations alight with the picture he drew.

“There I was,” Valiant proclaimed, his voice a blend of mock gravity and twinkling mischief, “faced with a troll as tall as two houses stacked together, and there I stood, half-naked because he caught me swimming in the river!”

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The children burst into giggles, the absurdity of the image tickling their fancies. Valiant paused dramatically, pretending to shiver in remembered fear, which only increased the children's delight.

“And what do you think I had with me to fight? A mighty sword? A powerful spell?” He paused, letting the suspense build, then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “No, my brave little warriors. All I had was a tiny sword, not bigger than your little hand!”

He drew a small stick from the ground, brandishing it with an exaggerated flourish as if it were a legendary weapon, earning another round of laughter from his young audience.

“But you know what?” Valiant continued, his face taking on a look of mock solemnity, “It’s not the size of the sword that counts, but the courage of the heart and the quickness of the mind!”

He then launched into a fantastical account of how he outwitted the troll, using clever tricks and the environment to his advantage, emphasizing the tale with grand gestures and playful leaps. According to Valiant, he danced around the troll, weaving through trees, leading the creature into a clumsy chase that ended with the troll tripping over its own feet, tumbling down a hill, and landing in a patch of nettles.

As Valiant concluded his tale with a theatrical bow, the children erupted into applause, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves above. Zara’s smile had widened, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Adom watched the scene, a smile tugging at his lips. he then approached the lively group, with Dojka at his side. "Having fun, are you?" he inquired.

Zara’s expression shifted to a frown, her previous contentment clouded by a sudden seriousness. Valiant, caught in the midst of laughter, turned abruptly, his face lighting up with recognition.

"Yeah! This place is amazing, dude!" Valiant exclaimed. "The children, they actually admire me! They, they..." He trailed off, his eyes catching Adom's, and his voice dropped to a mutter, "Wait a minute, you, fu-" He stopped abruptly, mindful of the young audience and Dojka's disapproving glance.

Regaining his composure, Valiant shifted his stance, throwing a cautious glance at Zara before saying, "You and us are not cool, right, Zara?"

Zara’s glare intensified as she looked at Adom, her voice cold and firm, "No, we're not cool with him."

Valiant, now fully attentive and standing protectively near the orc children, asked pointedly, "What are you doing here?"

Adom chuckled, sensing the underlying tension. It was clear that despite his own deceptions, Valiant and Zara had also concealed their true intentions when they had followed him earlier. By the way, Adom thought, piecing together the encounters and the current situation, was Valiant a member of the adventurer group we were supposed to join in the village? That would make sense.

Adom addressed the group with a level gaze, "Well, I had planned to come here from the start, and it was you guys who followed me, so I should be the one asking that, don't you think?"

Valiant, after a moment’s consideration, lowered his accusatory finger, conceding, "You got a point."

Zara, who had been silently observing the exchange, stood up abruptly. Adom greeted her casually, "Hello, Zara." She only scoffed in response and turned to walk away.

Valiant watched her leave, then turned back to Adom, explaining, "Don’t mind her, she's not very cooperative when in this mood. It'll pass."

Dojka, catching the tail end of their interaction, teased, "Lover quarrels?"

Adom responded calmly, "I barely know her."

Valiant laughed out loud, adding, "They did seem like lovers there."

Adom retorted, "I’m a minor, Valiant,"

Which prompted Valiant to quip, "You're a grown man in a boy's body. Wait... that sounded better in my head…"

Adom chuckled, acknowledging, "Glad to see you’re okay," before Dojka interrupted.

"Apologies immortal, but I have been asked to bring you to the lord as soon as you woke up. Could you follow me?"

Adom nodded in agreement, ready to proceed. Valiant, eager and curious, asked, "Can I come too?"

Dojka, considering the likely dynamics and tensions of the forthcoming meeting, advised, "I think it would be better if you stay here. You wouldn't like the atmosphere there."

Valiant, visibly disappointed but understanding, acquiesced, "Oh, right, no problem then," resigning himself to remain behind.

As Adom and Dojka made their way toward the Orc lord's place, a structure reputed to be more palace than mere dwelling, the healer shared wisdom with him. "We Ka'ui are not too fond of outsiders," she began, her voice steady and imbued with a hint of protective firmness. "As you can see, we live very well and peacefully by ourselves. This peace was gained painfully, and as a lesson, we learned not to trust the outside world. Our lord is even more strict on that rule, and is not too fond of you Atlasians, especially the humans and elves. Do not be fooled by his gentle demeanor, stay vigilant and make him understand how you can save Ajna."

Adom absorbed her words with a nod. "Thank you, Lady Dojka," he said, after a brief pause, filled with the ambient sounds of the village, he ventured further, "Please do not take my next words for ungratefulness, but... why advise me, a stranger, an immortal who could very well be an enemy, to be careful?"

Dojka's smile was small, introspective, not meeting Adom's gaze as she responded. "Aroth has been looking and praying day and night for a miracle, something that could save his daughter. And now, you gave him what he had desperately needed—hope." Her voice softened. "It broke my heart to see my niece suffer so much, and my brother unable to do anything about it only made it worse. This is needed."

Adom halted in his tracks, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together with startling clarity. Dojka was Aroth's sister—the revelation hit him like a thunderclap. In his future knowledge, the Orc Lord's right hand was a figure shrouded in fearsome reputation, known as the Druidess General, as well as the Orc lord's sister, she was almost as feared as the Aroth himself, despite her real name being unknown then. She was a one-woman army, her title synonymous with the tides of war turning, her hands capable of summoning the forces of nature to wipe out thousands on the battlefield. She was instrumental in the fall of the dragon, solidifying Aroth's title of 'Dragonbane'.

The Druidess General, a title that whispered of power and dread across lands and tales, was none other than Dojka. Adom, now deeply aware of the significance of his actions moving forward, only nodded in understanding.