Shouts of warning swept throughout the encampment as an incoming barrage of horse-sized rocks and fire-drenched stumps arched through the air before slamming harmlessly into one of the recently deserted areas of Ruined Home. Clumps of dirt and deadly shrapnel exploded out of the impact zones, sending those nearby into a panic as they jumped for whatever cover their minds had tricked them into believing was real. For some, this had worked to their benefit, and they had come out unscathed. Yet there were a handful of unfortunate souls who wailed in pain and clutched at their bodies as they writhed on the ground. Hideous wounds had been inflicted upon their persons, and it wouldn't be long before they succumbed to the cold embrace of death.
There were a number of brave souls who rushed towards their fallen comrades, hoping to save them in time before their wounds had gotten the better of them. A disgusted Iskra watched the scene unfold before her very eyes from a safe distance. She was far enough away that she was unable to see the more gruesome details, but close enough to understand what was going on. “How unsightly.” The young girl said with contempt in her voice as she took a gentle sip of her drink. More shouts reached her ears, and the teenager looked up just in time to watch as another enemy artillery barrage crested over the horizon. “Just because we’re under siege doesn’t mean that the peasants have to run around as if they’re a pack of headless chickens.”
Another wave of impacts rocked the ground beneath her legs as the crop-haired girl shook her head in disgust. ‘Must the peasantry always act like such hideous pigs?’ The girl thought to herself as she stretched out her long legs, giving them plenty of room to lie in front of her before taking another sip of her drink.
“Bold words for a little girl who goes pale at the tiniest hint of blood.” Came the echoing voice of Argonok, her ever-present bodyguard. “I’m surprised that you aren’t wiggling and jiggling beneath your rucksack, hiding from all of this commotion.”
Iskra leered at the chuckling suit of armor as she scuffed at the dwarf’s choice of words. The young girl had found the Fireguard’s choice in words to be distasteful, but she allowed the man to speak his mind. It was rare for her apparent royal guard to tease and mock the girl over her figure, but she had found it prudent to hold her tongue when chastising the ever-faithful bodyguard.
Even if the dwarf’s loyalty was all thanks to a curse, the idea of having command over a deathly loyal bodyguard hadn’t been lost. The raven-haired teenager chuckled quietly to herself as she brought the cracked wooden cup to her plush lips. Wicked thoughts of revenge swirled in the back of her mind, and the immense possibilities as to what a near-immortal assassin could accomplish amused her greatly on more than multiple occasions.
Argonok had the potential of becoming the perfect tool in her imaginary arsenal once it came time to enact her revenge upon the very people that had a hand in her banishment. All that needed to be done of her was to survive her current predicament.
Another round of violent impacts shook the earth, bringing the young girls jubilant mood crashing down into oblivion.
“Such barbarity,” Iskra said mockingly with a click of her tongue. “Don’t those beasts know that it’s rude to interrupt a maiden while she’s lost in her thoughts?”
“Well, then it’s a good thing that such a maiden isn’t here.” The Fireguard’s voice rumbled as a fit of mocking laughter escaped from underneath his helmet.
“Rude!” The girl hissed at the wise-cracking dwarf before turning away to look at the chaotic scenes unraveling themselves within the besieged encampment.
Countless men and women could be seen running throughout the camp as they did their best in accomplishing whatever tasks had been given onto them. Ever since the first signs of a prolonged siege, Iskra had felt that the entirety of Ruined Home had collapsed into a disastrous mess of anarchy.
What little time she had once spent with the rare few individuals she had managed to surround herself with had dried up within an instant and her only companion was the curse-bound dwarf. In a way, Iskra had begun to enjoy the sense of isolation that she had found herself in as it had given her ample time to think, which was something that she had taken full advantage of.
The young girl had yet to forgive Velicion for the slight made against her, and Iskra had grown irritated that the elven sorceress hadn’t found the willingness to apologize to her. Her refusal to approach the elven woman had meant that their language lessons had been paused, which in turn meant that Iskra’s time to bathe herself in the mesmerizing aura of Prince Aurelius had vanished without a trace. Such a fact was made worse by the knowledge that the young prince had volunteered himself to help guard and protect the encampment from the invaders.
Iskra’s thoughts on the matter were conflicted, to say the least. In her eyes, it was a travesty for someone of the prince’s status to degrade themselves by working alongside the unkempt peasantry. Yet the love-struck teenager was of the mind that the handsome elf couldn’t help but do what he felt was right.
To the girl, Prince Aurelius was a legendary knight in shining armor and that meant that her beloved prince was predestined to help those in need. Even if that meant belittling himself to help even the lowliest of individuals.
If the love of her life wished to save those in peril, then the young girl had no choice but to help those desires by creating situations that would place her handsome hero in the right location at just the right time.
“You muttering about that pretty boy of yours again?” Argonok asked with a harsh yell of his voice.
Embarrassed by what the dwarf had said, Iskra shushed the armored figure as she glanced around the immediate area. The two of them were far enough away from the rest of the encampment that there were very few individuals within eyesight. Those that had the opportunity to hear the dwarf’s obnoxiously loud voice were minimal at the most, but this didn’t mean that the young girl wished for anyone to hear what the two of them were talking about.
“Keep it down!” Iskra exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “Why are you always so loud, are you trying to embarrass me or something?”
“I can’t help it,” The suit of armor bellowed out in a fit of laughter. “Your reactions are always over the top. They make for a good drinking story on some occasions.”
“Can you even drink?” Iskra asked as she attempted to ignore the meaning behind his words.
“Sure I can.” Argonok said as he pretended to bring a mug of alcohol to his helmet before tipping back his head to mimic the motions of someone gulping down their drink. “But it always leaks out through my armor. I always make friends with animals because of it.”
An image flashed through the girl’s mind as she imagined what an ale soaked Argonok would look like. She envisioned a pack of guard dogs standing around and barking at the Fireguard, encouraging the dwarf to drink without a care in the world as their tongues lapped at the leaking dwarf’s armor while he gulped down a massive jug of whatever it was that dwarves usually drank.
“You’d make for a fantastic fountain I’d imagine.” Iskra said with a devious smile.
“Funnily enough, I’ve seen that happen a few times in my life. Several of my Fireguard brethren have been turned into metallic ornaments by whatever had defeated their war hosts.” Argonok shook his head in sorrow as he thought back to those moments. “The world has a cruel sense of humor sometimes.”
I’m sure it does,” Iskra said uncaringly as she folded her arms under her ample bust. “But only to those who aren’t predestined for greatness. The world needs to balance itself out so that the peasantry doesn’t get the idea that they’re made to excel in this world.”
“Speaking from experience?”
Iskra gasped at the dwarf’s words but quickly recovered in time to explain her thoughts. “If the gods truly wished to take away my power in this world, they would’ve done so by taking my beauty. A noble’s true power comes from their ability to stay beautiful, and those that don’t understand this are destined to fall into ruination.”
“So, is that why you refused to help that maid of yours?” The dwarf asked as he shook his head. Even when he was of flesh and blood, women were an oddity to him. For the longest time, the Fireguard had thought that he no longer needed to try and understand the thoughts behind a woman’s words, but it was clear to him that Iskra was on a whole other level.
The young girl quietly nodded her head as she thought back to the moment that the dwarf had referred to.
When Ruined Home had first come under siege there had been quite the ruckus as to what the camp’s inhabitants should do. At first it had hardly affected Iskra, but that had all changed once Sylvia had become inspired by her husband’s work on the encampment’s own siege equipment that was needed to help combat the growing threat of the opposing artillery. Being one of the very few blacksmiths in the expedition had meant that the man had been worked to the bone on many occasions, and Sylvia had been enlightened to help in whatever way she could. This eventually led to the point where the encampments handful of women to expand the mission statement of the camp’s kitchen to help raise morale in their time of need.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
One night, the middle-aged servant had asked Iskra is she would like to help out the other women in their efforts to cook for those working to protect the safety of the camp. To the woman’s dismay, the young girl had turned her down in a huff. Iskra had been appalled by the concept of her working in a kitchen, and the young girl had stated that she wouldn’t do “Peasant’s work.”
By the time that the older woman had exhausted her arguments in trying to have the girl help out, Sylvia had left the young girl’s tent visibly upset and dejected. The two of them hadn’t spoken since then.
“I don’t know what she was thinking of.” Iskra said to herself as her mind returned to the present. Whether or not the servant woman was upset over what she had, was of no concern to the noble-born teenager.
In her eyes, menial labor such as cooking was an insult to the very idea of what it meant to be of noble birth, and it was something that was best left to those born into poverty. When she had learned that a few of her friends and social peers had taken on the habit of learning to cook, she had poked fun at them for wishing to learn such lowly work.
It hadn’t been lost on her that she had managed to lose everything, but in her eye’s that meant very little in the long run. She would rise from these trying times and exact retribution on those who had dared to insult her as an individual as well as her noble blood.
“Of course not.” Argonok said sarcastically as he looked towards the grinning teenager. “Girls of your type are the sort who are at their best when all they have to do is look pretty and tell others what it is they want.”
“That’s the spirit!” Iskra said as the dwarf’s tone went unnoticed. “Look pretty, lead the unkempt and hideous, and proliferate with those of an equal or better social standing. That’s what it means to be a noble of Ranislava, and I intend on keeping my people’s most cherished tradition.”
----------------------------------------
Mok’nok wheezed in an agonized breath as Orukk the Blooddrinker held his ruined face to where those gathered around them could see the fate of those who had drawn the ire of their warlord.
The bloodied orc had been foolish in his attempts at assaulting the human encampment’s walls. Time and time again, he had charged headlong into the palisades only to be beaten back with extraordinary ease, those that hadn’t been killed by their enemy’s moat were cut down by arrows or spears. At first Orukk had merely been frustrated by the hasty orc, but eventually the death toll had proven to be an immediate issue. In the end, the warlord had battered the orc in his sleep and summoned the rest of his lieutenants for an emergency council.
Now, the broken creature would finally have some use in Orukk’s army, to serve as a fatal warning for those that failed their leader.
“Do I make myself clear?” Orukk’s grizzled voice lingered in the air as he forced the unfortunate orc higher into the air. He wanted the remainder of his chosen lieutenants to burn the image of their battered comrade into their seed-sized brains. “No more ‘delusions’ of grandeur. Either you do things my way, or I’ll cleave the head off of your useless corpses and feed it to the wargs.”
The other’s nodded their heads as their warlord tossed the limp body to the side. The fool would soon be killed, but only at a time that was considered appropriate by their leader.
“Good.” Orukk said as he rolled his shoulders. “Now then, I want to hear some good news from you sorry lot. What have you done that hasn’t managed to anger me?”
“Warlord,” Came the shrill voice of Durak’kar. The orc had been given the task of keeping order within the ranks as well as making sure that no night assaults were attempted on their lines. The orc had managed to keep his master happy, for now. “Patrols have verified that the humans are foolishly keeping the nearby lake unguarded. Their walls stop only a mere few steps into the water. What’s more, there doesn’t appear to be many of their kind watching the nearby shores.”
Orukk let out a huff of air as he spoke. “Good. We can use their foolishness to our advantage.”
A successful landing would do wonders in destroying the humans trapped within his clutches. Once they had established and secured a beachhead, Orukk would be able to ferry his men behind his enemy’s lines. Of course such a plan wouldn’t be possible without the support of a proper assault on the human’s walls.
For that to work, the warlord would need a proper strategy and ample time to whip the battle lines into effective fighting order. For now, he would have to rely on the fools before him to fulfill his demands without question, as well as without any selfish desires from their delusions of grandeur.
“Who here believes themselves ready to step up and stand at my side?” Orukk asked of those around him. The warlord looked around the many faces and saw countless expressions that could only be described as ‘brainless.’ He grunted in disappointment as he realized that he needed to explain the obvious. “I need someone to go to the lake and build up a force capable of assaulting the humans. You’ll need to construct boats for that to succeed, so those with strong minds need to step forward.”
Blank stares and looks of dumbfoundedness were all that the warlord saw. Orukk allowed a displeased rumble to escape from his throat as his lieutenants whispered to one another or scratched at their heads in confusion. When all hope seemed to be lost, a single hand was raised cautiously into the air.
“Warlord, I’ll be the one.” The one who had found the courage to volunteer had a split lip and a misshapen head that spoke wonders about the physical tenacity of the orcish race. It was none other than Thonk.
Orukk smiled as he nodded his head in pleasure, he had always taken the slow speaking orc as someone who was too stupid to do much except for swinging a weapon or repeating the words of their betters. Not everyone was as dumb as they looked it seemed.
----------------------------------------
Thonk looked towards the distant shoreline with an intense inquisitive stare. As he remained hidden behind the thick copse of trees, the orc could easily tell that the scouts had told the truth in their reports. The humans had left the lake severely unprotected, and the only telltale signs of their presence were that of the ever-present fortifications as well as the occasional foot patrol that never lingered for very long.
The orc chuckled to himself as the goblin’s that had been assigned under his leadership dropped their equipment and set about making a temporary camp. The little creatures spoke amongst one another, speaking in their corrupted tongue of the orcish language. Thonk was a simpleton and spoke in simple words, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find the accents of his racial cousins to be hideous in their own right.
“Quiet!” The orc hissed to those around him as he looked around for a goblin that had called itself Thrasher. “Thrasher! Thrasher! Where are you?”
His voice trailed off deeper into woods, echoing against the thick hides of the nearby trees.
“Here master.” Came the bored voice of Thrasher.
Thonk looked down at his side to find that the goblin had somehow managed to sneak under his gaze and appeared right where he needed him to be. “Where were you when I called you out the first time?” The orc snarled as unfounded anger began to rise throughout his body.
“I was always here, master. You told me never to leave your side, so I didn’t.”
“Good. You keep doing that.” Thonk said with a huff of air.
The goblin was exhausted, both mentally and physically, from having to deal with the misshapen orc that stood before him, and the creature was of the mindset that he would undoubtedly be left drained by the time everything was said and done. Or dead, but Thrasher was unsure as to which of the two fates he had most preferred.
Thonk looked around the immediate area in confusion as he suddenly remembered something important. “Thrasher, why are we here?”
Thrasher looked down at the ground and took a deep breath to help calm his tired mind. This had been the seventh time that he had been asked that question, and it would be the seventh time that he would give the same answer. “To build boats and to wait for the warlord’s orders.”
“Good.” The orc let out a sickening snort as he gave a curt nod of his head. There was a momentary pause between the two as Thonk remembered the realization of the most pressing matter. “Thrasher,” The hideous orc began. “What’s a boat?”
Thrasher let out a quiet sigh as he hung his head low in defeat. “Things that would help us get across the lake’s surface.”
For what must have been the hundredth time today, Thonk let out a satisfied snort as he gave a curt nod of his head. “Right, I was just testing you to make sure you knew.”
“Very good master.” The goblin said quietly as he looked around to make sure that the others were making themselves busy. Satisfied that a healthy amount of progress had been made on their new camp, Thrasher turned towards the simpleton that he had the misfortune of being commanded by. “Shall I order the construction of some siege engines before we start to work on the boats?”
Thonk gave no reply to his subordinate’s queries as he threw back his head and began to laugh manically into the air.
Thrasher let out one last defeated sigh as he turned to those nearby. Their confused looks said everything that he wanted to know and he waved them away in hopes that they would continue in their work. For the miserable goblin, even death would be too good of a reward to be released from his servitude under the delirious orc.
----------------------------------------