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Most of the diners had left the tables in the great hall, leaving Yula, Captain Jourdain, and me to talk about the weighty matter of killing the orc emperor without prying ears.

Yula’s hard stare almost looked angry. “How do you mean to keell emperor?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know much about orcs. What can you tell me about him?”

Yula stiffened in her chair. “Knowing Veegor will tell you nothing of orcs. He ruins all tradition.”

“Okay. Let’s start there. What traditions does he ruin?”

“Orcs are loyal to what zey see and touch—like mountain or chief. Humans follow ideas. Zey make crazy rules. Obey guilds, schools, build too many temples, and make armies too beeg. Zees ees what Veegor does—makes war like human. He turns orc against orc until every mountain ees beneath him. Tricks others to fight for him—ees cowardly dog.”

Yula’s objected to institutions. While modern families in America raised their children otherwise, a loner such as myself could see her point. People were usually fine as individuals. But hierarchal groups have a way of bringing out bumper stickers, rendering conversation useless. People embracing schools of thought become like sports fans cheering for a team.

“Veegor builds like human. Orcs live and die—eet ees part of nature. Stone buildings create phony world of forever. Eet ees deception and not our way.”

“It sounds like his grip on the throne is conditional. Is he a poor leader?”

“Yes and no. Puts all orc een one army—weakens zem with rules.”

Captain Jourdain crossed his arms. “How would unity weaken a force?”

“Makes us fight like humans—a beeg mixed army eenstead of family. Orc must fight with zeir people—Veegor treats warriors like puny little numbers.”

When he sensed I wasn’t following her, Jourdain turned to me. “The orcs Krek fights are loose clans. They’re very different from imperial units.”

“How so?”

“The emperor has mixed clans into vast legions, like mobile cities. Our scouts in Arweald report methodical behavior. Orcs aren’t used to top-down orders from complex structures. Usually, the toughest gives the word to charge, and everyone in that clan follows.”

Yula thumped the table to emphasize Jourdain’s words. “Exactly. Every clan should fight for zeir mountain.”

I nodded to show I followed her and turned to the captain. “Have you fought an organized force like Yula describes?”

The captain shook his head. “No, but the emperor is no fool. It’s effective in sieges.”

“Is that how they fight in Arweald? A siege?”

“No. But once you regiment an army, you can’t undo it. The only headway the orcs make in the Arweald theater comes from felling trees. Ground gained against the elves is permanent, but it’s slow and costly. The elves deliver heavy losses on their turf.”

I nodded toward Yula. “How porous are orc defenses? Could one or two of us sneak into your homeland unobserved? You’ve got crazy-good survival skills and nature magic. It could help cover our tracks.”

Yula declined to answer, stood, and distanced herself from the table, as if I’d suggested something absurd.

Again, the Captain explained her reaction. “I’m afraid her wilderness skills are common with orcs, and the regimentation works in the emperor’s favor regarding infiltration. Emperor Veegor webs the Doublespines with scouts. You won’t make half a day before bringing down a century on you.”

“A century?”

“A hundred soldiers make a century. Five centuries make a cohort—about 500 strong. And ten cohorts form a legion.”

“Five thousand orcs?”

Captain Jourdain nodded. “Currently, there’s only one mobilized legion. They’re almost too big to move and supply in enemy territory. Cohorts are the emperor’s operational units.”

“And cohorts are 500 orcs.”

“Correct. Cohorts include about 100 servants from the lower caste and 100 torodons. They move in long lines in rows of eight orcs abreast—each row has eight soldiers, two servants, and one or two torodons that carry a tent, millstone, and grain. Rows are the emperor’s smallest field unit and forego the torodons and heavy equipment.”

“It sounds organized. The fewest number of orcs we’d face is ten?”

“I’m afraid so. And scouts forego traveling with torodons and heavier equipment, so they’re harder to find.”

Ten orcs didn’t sound so bad. Yula and I could easily stand against such numbers.

“If you’re thinking that you could defeat them, you’re correct, but one tradition the orcs haven’t abandoned is drums. Rows will sound drums before engaging. If we’re talking about the Doublespine Mountains, you’ll face ten rows of scouts. Realistically, the smallest unit you’ll face is a hundred.”

Yula listened with curled lips while the captain broke down the legion’s numbers. She took her seat in a huff. “You see, now, yes? Rules make orcs predictable!”

“You mentioned servants.”

“Orcs enslave their conquered brethren. Everyone else gets put to the sword. But they’re not brutalized as goblins treat their prisoners. They become obedient servants or the working caste.”

Yula interjected. “Orcs used to give lower caste chance to prove themselves. Emperor forbids passage. Servants under him ees stay servants.”

By doing away with social mobility, I appreciated Yula’s regard for tradition. The news of the emperor’s reign shed no light on how to retrieve the relic. Even if Veegor’s hold on power was tenuous, there didn’t seem to be any way to weaken or sabotage his war engine. Gladius Cognitus could do nothing against 5,000 warriors, so infiltrating Arweald wasn’t an answer.

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The Dark Room was a powerful escape mechanic, but Yula, with her confounded orc pride, wouldn’t use it. I could speak orc with Gladius in hand, but venturing into the Doublespines without her felt like a suicide mission. Mineral Communion made me nearly impervious to traps in dungeons, but on open terrain, I’d easily fall into a snare or ambush before flipping up the Dark Room’s rope.

Part of me wanted to believe the emperor didn’t have the relic. Perhaps he resisted its call, but he seemed like the type of power-hungry dictator that demons wanted for a host.

Emperor Veegor finding the cursed crown seemed to be the most reasonable assumption. The only evidence supporting this theory revolved around the precedent that I wasn’t lucky enough for it to be otherwise.

And internal politics wouldn’t solve our problem. Even if the emperor’s rivals assassinated him, another despot would replace him. That was always the danger with relics. If a bearer didn’t fall by my sword, then the next in line inherited it—putting me back to square one.

That thought gave me an idea—perhaps I could make the emperor’s politics work in my favor.

“When did the orcs see Hawkhurst? You said they reached Iremont while I was away.”

Yula answered. “Nearly after you leave. Orc scouts saw Flattop fourteen weeks ago. I count ten tracks on summit. Zey stay for two days. Go eento crazy dungeon.”

“You went inside?”

Yula nodded. “Smoke is gone.”

“And how big was Hawkhurst then?”

Jourdain shrugged. “I think our population numbered around 150.”

“Then we’d barely begun the castle.”

The captain considered the question, then nodded. “Aside from the barbican, nothing else stood. I think the workers focused on the great hall.”

I drew Gladius and placed him on the table. “Would the emperor covet a weapon like this?”

“So they won’t know anything about our defenses yet? And if the emperor wanted my sword, how many orcs would he send to conquer Hawkhurst?”

The captain looked at Yula before answering. “Not many. They’re committed to Arweald at the moment.”

“What if we could bait him into attacking us?”

The two exchanged looks, but the captain replied. “How would we bait the emperor? Mail doesn’t work in orc settlements, and it’s not like we have a line of communication with him.”

Yula took longer than usual before responding. Her crossed arms and shaking head rained doubts on my plan. “Can’t plant seeds with scouts. A regional commander would take sword for zemself.”

“That might be a good thing. If the emperor doesn’t trust his people to bring Gladius to him, perhaps he’ll come in person.”

Captain Jourdain stiffened. “Even if we could reach the emperor’s ears—and that’s a big ‘if’ he’d bring several centuries with him. Perhaps a cohort.”

Yula waved a flattened palm before her and shook her head. “Zees he would not do. Retreat from elves would bring great shame.”

“But if he won a weapon like this, would anyone challenge him?”

Yula admired the weapon. “With such a weapon, none would oppose Veegor.”

“If he’s going to lose face withdrawing from Arweald, wouldn’t he bring the entire legion?”

Captain Jourdain snorted. “A whole legion? No. It would be impossible. For one, relocating one would take too long—at least a year. And by the time word got out that your sword was up for grabs, centurions at the front of the column would attack before units in the rear reached the theater. And that’s where the emperor rides—at the end. No. If the emperor wants a purple weapon, he must be quick.”

Realization dawned in Yula’s eyes. “And zees means smaller numbers.” She shook her head and wagged her finger at her second in command. “And zees ees why human army ees fooleesh. Very predictable.”

Captain Jourdain smiled. “The commander is not wrong. But that doesn’t solve the problem of contacting the emperor. You can’t trust anyone to bring news like a celestial blade to the emperor’s ears. They’ll want to come for it themselves.”

It became my turn to grin. “Leave that to me. If I can figure that out, would you support luring the emperor to Hawkhurst? It might be the only way to destroy the last relic. He might—”

Yula slapped the table before I could finish. “Yes. Eet is a most wise course of action! He comes to us, like obedient dog, and we keell him to pieces.”

Captain Jourdain leaned from Yula to show no opposition.

“Good. Tomorrow, we’ll go over our resources and plan of action. Right now, I have a letter to write.”

Captain Jourdain held up a finger. “You heard me when I said the orcs don’t receive letters, right?”

“Oh, I’m not writing to an orc. I’m writing to a snake.” After bidding each good night, I left the table and retired to the manor.

To Uproar

From Apache, Hawkhurst Postal Box #1

Subject Alliance?

It seems none of the other players want to help you to kill me. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage and team up. No one would suspect an alliance, certainly not Fabulosa, whom I understand evaded you in Malibar.

I realize trust is hard to come by in a game like this, so let me lay out my proposition. The orc emperor has a relic giving him power to one-shot anything in the game ten times over. Hawkhurst is practically in his backyard, so he’s my only threat in this game.

I propose we should kill him together. All I need is an ally to distract him long enough for a backstab. I have a special sword. If it critically hits, he’s a goner. If we can pull this off we’ll both benefit. My town, Hawkhurst, will be safe, and you can have the relic.

Emperor Veegor doesn’t know I have a weapon of such immense power. It’s a purple sword that allows me to channel spells while performing other actions. I need to partner with someone with a little initiative—and you seem to be the only person interested in making moves. Together, we can assassinate the emperor.

I’m linking the stats to my sword as a show of good faith. After reading its description, you’ll see why I don’t need the relic. Think about it. Do a little recon. Let me know what you think. I’ll be here, waiting for your answer.

Your future ally, Apache

I finished the message with a link to Gladius Cognitus, hoping it would convince Uproar to trust me. Treachery and greed numbered among the few things I could trust in my fellow players.

All contestants were greedy. Uproar would want the sword and the relic for himself—and what better way would he have to get a hold of the relic than turning the emperor and me against one another?

Uproar could do many things with this information, so my gambit had legitimate risks. If Uproar linked its description in the group chat or blabbed about it, then I’d know he wouldn’t play ball—and I could write the entire ruse off as a failure.

But a scheme of us tag-teaming the emperor sounded plausible. But Uproar wouldn’t trust me. That was good. I wanted him to be suspicious and to expect a double cross after we killed the emperor.

If Uproar were in an alliance, I doubted he’d take this to another contestant. He couldn’t trust another player, certainly not over stakes like wielding Gladius. No, he’d take this to an NPC, and the emperor seemed the most logical solution.

Uproar wasn’t without resources. I believed someone familiar with dark magic would have an easier time than me reaching the emperor. Betrayal seemed the least risky part of the plan. I wanted Uproar to sell me out, and his best course of action seemed to involve turning the emperor against me. Just as he’d tried in group chat, Uproar would want someone to do his dirty work for him.

It wasn’t a simple plan, but what treachery was? I reread my letter, tweaked the language, and imagined how Uproar could exploit the information. Every strategic scenario ended with Uproar sending the emperor to Hawkhurst.

I’d also accounted for Darkstep’s intel network. If they were in cahoots, nothing in my letter contradicted anything Darkstep might have reported. If anything, he’d confirm my proposal.

After much debate, I sent the letter through the game’s mail system. To cover my bases, I mailed Fabulosa a warning that I’d used her name as part of my ploy. I wouldn’t put it past Uproar to contact her. He might tattle on me to drive a wedge between us or gain intel about Hawkhurst’s defenses.

Involving Uproar felt like taking off my seat belt, but giving away information seemed the only way to draw the relic within my grasp. Sending opponents information about my most valuable asset felt like reverse fishing. If Uproar made no ripples in the water and posted no links or references to my weapon in the group chat, then he’d be on my hook.