Trillian looked over the field before her. One large minotaur strode forward. In its right hand was a hammer -the head of the hammer easily taller than Trillia herself- in its left was a tiny stick.
It raised the tiny stick, pointing to its own throat. A faint glow enveloped the creature. When it spoke, its voice carried over thousands of feet.
"I represent the refugees of the Labyrinth city of God's Watch! I come seeking your Chieftain. We are not aggressors!"
Something in his voice made Trillia think the minotaur speaking was tired. So tired that Trillia was surprised he didn't fall over asleep as she sometimes did.
Her mother -Amara- walked forward. Whispering the skill [Titans Voice].
"I am Chieftain Amara Demonsbane. You stand before the last bastion of the tribe of the Shattered Will. I know of God's Watch. Where is King Cordaos?"
The lead minotaur turned his head, his voice still carried due to the skill. However, the words he spoke made no sense to Trillia. Old man Lurog told her that many races spoke a different language.
That never made much sense to Trillia. One would think that if everyone spoke the same language, there would be fewer mistakes and fighting. Even in her own tribe, the dialect of some orcs was different, it had led to fights and brawls. She couldn't begin to imagine how bad it was with other species.
Well, she could imagine. Many nights she had laid in her mother's lap pretending to be asleep, she was listening to warriors talk about old fights, and conflicts they had been a part of. Sometimes being attacked just because they were orcs, or spoke the wrong words.
A few minutes later, a large stone slab was rolled forward. Resting atop it was the largest minotaur of the entire group. If you propped him up, he would be nearly twice as tall as Amara.
Suddenly Trillia felt smaller than before. She knew, without a doubt, she was not a Minotaur. Her little mind raced with other possibilities, not having given up on being too low of a level yet.
When her mother's voice rang out again, she listened intently.
"Has the great king fallen?"
As if summoned to action by her words, the mighty form resting atop the slab stirred. Drinking several potions that were handed to him. Sitting up seemed to take immense effort, and as the blanket covering him fell, all onlookers knew why.
Even with the potions coursing through his veins, deep gashes glowing with poisonous mana lay evident on his chest, arms, back, and face. A few shorter, younger minotaurs rushed over to help their king stand.
With no skills cast and seemingly no artifacts to boost it, his voice easily carried to the wall.
"The city of God's Watch has fallen Amara. My people need a place to rest, a place to recover. I would be in your deb-"
His mighty frame shook as he was overtaken by a fit of coughing. Blood and mana poured from his mouth. The wounds pulsed almost angrily as poison seeped from them.
Trillia watched her mother leap from the wall. Amara crossed the field in the span of a breath. Titans Voice still carried her voice across the field and encampment.
"You foolish cow! What did you piss off to receive wounds such as this? Lay back down and rest, idiot!"
Amara pushed his mighty frame back onto the slab. The other minotaurs seemed conflicted. Whether to help her make him rest or stop the assault. Amara's voice rang out once more. This time directed at her people.
"Throw open the gates, alert all of the shamans. We have an extremely advanced stage of megapede poisoning and what looks like some new version of mana sickness. Figure out who the de facto leader is while the King is out, and help these people in any way we can!"
Without waiting for confirmation, she hurriedly waved the other minotaurs over, ordering them about as if she was some General on a battlefield.
"Come here, boy. Help me get this great lug to the camp so we can treat him. Stop worrying. I've seen Cordaos survive worse. Far too stupid and stubborn to die."
The form on the slab chuckled weakly.
"It is good to see you as well, little Amara. Thank you for taking care of my people."
Amara shook her head. Not wanting her worry to betray the outward strength she projected.
"You saved my life more times than I care to count in the Great Beast wars. This is the least we can do for each other."
The king said a few words to his advisors, who immediately fell into listening to Amara's instructions. Varga came down from the walls and began discussing where the refugees could set up camp and what they knew of the area.
The benefit to her tiny status surrounded by all these giants is that Trillia didn't stand out, far too small to be noticed. She followed after her mother and the large minotaur who was hurt, figuring this was far more interesting than whatever her father was talking to the other minotaurs about.
They rolled the slab next to the central bonfire, placing heavy stones under it. Knocking the wheels off with a terrifying amount of speed and precision.
Amara stood over the body, hands working expertly, mixing together some poultice and jamming it into the lesser wounds, calling out a seemingly endless amount of information that Trillia didn't fully grasp. Trillia watched as her mother switched from Orcish to the language of the Minotaurs with ease, sometimes mid-sentence.
Trillia stood on a nearby rock, looking down at the scene. Within a half hour, most of the worst wounds had some poultice shoved into them. Shamans were mixing potions alongside Minotaur alchemists. Amara held up a large throng of leather and cloth, putting it into Cordaos' mouth.
"This is going to hurt like the fires of Infernus, Cord. We don't have spells or straps large enough to hold you still. Do you understand me?"
Trillia was starting to get scared. She could see the fear in her mother's eyes, in the king's eyes. The king bit down on the throng and clamped his meaty hands onto the sides of the stone slab. Amara pulled out a dagger, holding it over the fire behind her.
"By all the gods Cord, if you punch me, I'll stab you right in the face!"
Both offered a weak chuckle. Amara brought the knife over the worst of the wounds, looking to the alchemists and shamans who all sat ready with a mixture of poultices and potions.
Amara lowered the blade, with the practiced hands of an expert, began to cut away the dead and poisoned flesh, burning the residual poison away. Trillia winced, unable to rip her eyes from the scene.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The great minotaur king howled into the throng, his hands gripping the stone, threatening to crack it. His muscles tensed, but he otherwise lay still. As the poisoned meat was sliced away, the others moved quickly to bandage, poultice, or dump healing potions into the wounds.
Trillia watched for what felt like days. It had only been four or five hours in reality. The little girl looked at the minotaur king's face. Tears stained his cheeks from the pain and agony he had just endured. Trillia wondered how long it must have felt for him.
Amara sat there breathing heavily, having used probably a dozen or more skills to maintain concentration and aid in healing, her mana dangerously low. Her arms draped over the minotaur's chest.
Trillia had, at this point, moved closer. Curious to see her mother's work up close. She was next to her mother, who had tears running down her cheeks. She knew she wasn't supposed to hear her mother's whispers, Noone was, but she did.
"If any of you still care. If any of you haven't abandoned us, please don't let my friend die. No one in this world knows me better. Please don't take my friend."
Trillia watched as her mother clenched her fists. The other shamans and alchemists were shuffled off by Lurog, who patted Cordaos and Amara on their shoulders. Lurog spoke softly to Amara.
"He is the mightiest mortal warrior to walk this plane and is pact-bonded to the same deity you are. Have faith, Amara."
He gently squeezed Amara's shoulder once more before shooing the other onlookers off. Amara could no longer hold in her tears. She just sat there quietly sobbing. Cordaos lay unconscious next to her, his breathing finally calm.
Too much had happened. The fall of God's Watch was a shock to Amara. Seeing Cordaos in the state he was in, Lurog wasn't far off the mark. The Minotaur King was widely regarded as one of the most fierce warriors on the continent. To see him in this state.
Trillia climbed onto the slab staring at the dozens of cuts, bandages, and poultices that covered the mighty frame.
[Rudimentary Alchemy] skill obtained.
Experience is awarded for learning a rudimentary skill without a class.
Species: [Mortal]; [Orc] Level 0 -> Level 1
Subspecies: [Orc-Adolescent:Runt] Level 0 -> Level 1
Trillia blinked a few times. That had never happened before, and while she wanted to jump for joy at the levels, she heard her mother's soft sobbing. Leaning over, Trillia placed her tiny hands onto one of her mother's, who jerked her head up, thinking she was alone.
"It's ok, mommy. You said he was too stupid and stubborn to die. Plus, he's really, really big, even bigger than you. I'm sure he will be ok."
Trillia offered her biggest and bravest smile giving her mom a thumbs up now that their eyes met. Trillia had to admit she was a little scared she would get in trouble. Instead, Amara hoisted the girl in her mighty arms. Crushing Trillia to her chest in a hug.
Over the next week, Trillia watched as they removed old medicine from the wounds replacing it with new medicine. Stitching wounds closed now that the rot had been cut away. Cordaos took it all with surprising stoicism. Trillia wondered what sort of life someone had to lead to be so sturdy.
Amara never seemed to leave his side. Trillia had taken to wandering the camp. Not wanting to bother them as they spoke. Sometimes she merely grew bored when it came to listening to logistics.
-=- One Week Later -=-
A week had passed, and to say things were chaotic would be a gross understatement. Trillia sat on the edge of a large bench, legs swinging beneath her, a bowl of hard-tack broth and sliced meat in her hands.
Next to her sat her new best friend, Cordaos, the Minotaur king and a warrior. He was also extremely good at making the stone look like little people, and it was this particular skill that Trillia watched in amazement.
They sat near a small cooking fire, her mother and father sitting on their own bench, and a few other important-looking minotaurs joined them. Cordaos had been awake for a day now but was unable to speak.
The damage to his body had been extensive. After some more healing and treatment, he could speak, but the pain it caused him was evident. That's why Trillia had been instructed not to ask him questions and just watched.
It was her mother who spoke. They had been talking about the state of the ravines and where they could start building an encampment for the refugees. Trillia mostly ignored it to watch skilled hands carve away bits of stone. The hands stopped now. Trillia looked up as Cordaos stared at her mother.
"What happened, Cordaos? I've seen you first-hand pull dragons out of the sky. I watched you leap with wild abandon into a group of greater demons and come out the other side. I haven't pushed you because I wanted you to heal. But I need to know how much danger my people are in."
Cordaos ran his thumb over the little stone orc he had been carving, staring intently at it.
"I saw a creature trait I haven't seen in over a century Amara, followed by one I have never seen, both on the same Megapede. The first was [Primordial Spawn], and the second was [Mana-Warped]. "
As soon as Cordaos mentioned primordial spawn, Trillia looked at her parent's faces and saw sheer terror race across their faces. The look scared Trillia. She was scared a lot recently.
At first, she thought it was because she was a weakling and not a true orc, but the last week or so had shown her even mighty orcs like her mother were afraid. They didn't show it as often. She was upset her mother was scared. Trillia hated the feeling and didn't want others feeling it, especially her mom.
But she was also relieved that this stuff was just scary. It made her feel less ashamed when she slid a little closer to Cordaos as if trying to hide from the world behind his massive form.
Amara could barely get the words out, whispering them as if trying to keep a secret from the gods themselves.
"Are you certain Cord.... are you certain you saw a [Primordial Spawn] ?"
Trillia knew her mother wasn't calling her friend a liar. More like....it was like she wanted to wish his words away, but Cord only shook his head.
"Amara, it was seventy levels below me and thirty below my royal guard. I watched it rip through them all in seconds. And it nearly killed me. The only reason I'm here is my eldest son used a skill to Teleport us out."
The last glimmer of hope drained from everyone's face as Cordaos continued.
"God's Watch amplifies my abilities, as well as the abilities of every minotaur in there. It took three days to go from a city of forty thousand mighty minotaurs to the three or four thousand setting up camp around you now. We only managed to kill a half dozen of those damn things."
Trillia could hear the anger in his voice. His rage was palpable.
"The Primordial we were all tasked with protecting is waking up, Amara. Without the [2nd Axle] or the Queen of Kadessa, I fear we won't be able to fight it off. It's not awake yet. If it were, we would probably all be dead."
A long, heavy silence fell over everyone. It was all so much. Trillia felt like all this bad news was going to crush her. She could see and smell the fear that hung over the camp.
She didn't run away though her mother had instructed her before that Trillia was free to listen to any conversation they had. But had to keep it to herself. Her mother didn't want to hide the severity of things from her but didn't want to confuse others with Trillia's inability to accurately explain it.
Amara stood and tossed a stick into the bonfire, motioning to a nearby orc. Trillia recognized him as the Captain of the scouts. The orc hurried over and stared intently at Amara.
"Zura, prepare thirty of your best and fastest scouts. Find scouts that have no families or children yet. The mission I have is one they may not return from."
Zuras eyes darkened. Amara always ensured that every orc's life mattered the same as any other. For her to give an order like this, the scout captain nodded and turned to do as instructed. Cordaos offered her a quizzical look.
"We will send them over the Mana Rift, to Kincairne. Varga, write letters to the Captain of the Guard, the Mayor, Head Magic, and Bishop of the Paladins in Kincairne. Take some apprentice shamans with you, and write everything up with thirty copies. Use my seal and the seal of Cordaos."
The minotaur king opened a pouch at his side and produced a small metal object. It had an intricate design on one end and a rounded handle on the other. A myriad of small crystalline gems were embedded in it. His eyes glowed faintly as he channeled mana into his seal. Between the exertion of Mana, and all the words he had spoken before, the old king looked truly exhausted.
Varga took the seal from Cordaos, leaning in and kissing his wife on the cheek before taking her seal. The man ushered others to see the task set before them was done. Leaving Cordaos, Amara, and Trillia sitting around the fire, the minotaur king once more carved the stone in his hands.
Despite the clamor of the camp around them, their little fire and troupe were silent. Trillia felt as though she could hear every flake of the stone as the knife passed seamlessly through it.
Trillian's eyes grew heavy. It had been a very stressful week for everyone, especially for a child of only three. As she slowly fell back, she felt her mother's arms wrap around and lift her. Unable to focus or keep her eyes open, she could vaguely hear the words.
"Let me go and put the little one to rest. We can discuss our part in the coming war."
War. A word often unused by the adults around her, but no one said it happily. Trillia had a vague understanding of what it meant. Old man Lurog and her father said they hoped she would never truly know what it meant.
Was war coming to her tribe? Her curiosity peaked. She was, however, unable to keep thinking and fighting any longer. She let darkness and sleep take her.