As a result of the member of the family, Owen had to make Coo’s enclosure bigger. Owen spent half the day improving it to something that could truly be called ‘home’. Not only was the room huge, but sand now covered the entire cave floor. New grass that Bimpnottin had worked on was now plotted around—and could grow by itself.

It was an arcane botany marvel, but Owen wouldn’t tell the gnome that to his face. Bimpnottin had a flaw, and that was his human sized arrogance. It was best to keep down a few pegs. Owen had his friends best interests at heart.

Other than that, Owen had implemented an idea he had. Instead of using traditional gardening techniques that Bimpnottin knew; like planting in rows. Owen wanted to make use of the walls, which before were barren and bare. Now though, with the help of Owen’s Plunder Skill, Bimpnottin had planted fruits and wood-like bushes in the wall. Because of how they grew—with Bimpnottin’s mana—there was no use for water. Yet. Although the gardening gnome was managing right now, for what Owen needed in the future, wasn’t enough.

Owen had to have farm lands that extended far underground. Because of Owen’s Skill, it would be the premiere way of growing crops. It was faster for him to carve out the mountain than it was for the builders to erect a structure over the fields that could resist the nightly wave.

Now, Coo’s pasture lived and breathed greenery. Coo and her calf were already harvesting the grass growing out of the sands, and the cactus that lay about. Of course, the cactus were engineered not to have any spikes on them.

Bubbles loved to play. Every time Owen glanced over, she’d be either ramming her head at Coo’s stomach for milk. Or she’d be hopping up and down, bolting across the sand.

Owen couldn’t help but smile. It was contagious. And it was a sight he wanted to share with Pyris.

Done with all he had to do, he left the pasture and entered the tunnels where he bumped into Balthus.

“Balthus,” Owen said, smiling. “How can I help this time?”

Balthus bowed. “My Lord, It’s a serious matter this occasion.”

Owen frowned. “How serious.”

“We’re not under attack.”

“Good.” Owen sighed in relief, then asked, “Then?” Shoulder-to-shoulder, they made their way out of the mountain.

“The mage of the orcs has brought forward a proposition.”

“Go on.”

Balthus nudged his specs further up his nose. “I think it’s better if you hear it yourself.”

***

Standing at the command table in the castle, the orcen sand mage—Dunhar—stood on the far side. Gorath stood a few steps to the side. Apart from them, Pyris and Rohan stood on the other side of the table.

Sounds of rock shifting and shouting could be heard all over. The Builders were working tirelessly to maintain the building's structural integrity.

“Balthus told me you had a proposition?”

Dunhar glanced at all the others in the room, before casting his full attention to Owen. “The other orcs and I wish for you to take our lives into your hands.”

“Forced integration?” Owen asked, placing his hands on the table. He knew of it. Any Lord who bested another Lord in combat, or took them out in war, could take over their lands, and their people. If he so wished, Owen could integrate them into his own. He was a little hesitant. If he was sure of their loyalty, he’d have done it straight away.

But that was the problem. He wasn’t sure. Unlike units he summoned directly, the orcen troops weren’t bound to him by the system—even if he integrated them into his own. It was a downside. If he wasn’t careful, the orcs could do a lot more harm than good.

“Yes,” Dunhar said. “Although my knowledge about how any of this works is limited, I know that under a Lord, we can become stronger. Now we have stagnated.” He looked at Gorath. “I don’t know how much you know about us as a race, but us orcs believe not in pure mindless aggression like you may believe.”

Rohan scoffed. Owen raised his hand, a reminder to Rohan.

Ignoring the look of scorn cast his way, Dunhar continued. “We fight because we view self improvement above all else. That if we die not in a fight, we will be condemned by the War Sovereign to seven lives of torture for us, and our familes. Now that we we’re not tied to a Lord—”

Rohan added, “The fuel for your addiction has been severed.”

Dunhar shrugged. “That’s a crude way to put it, but yes, you can look at it that way.” Dunhar met Owen’s gaze in earnest. “We ask, no, we plead with you. Please integrate us into your land. Point us toward an enemy, even if we perish. That is all we ask.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Owen drew a breath. “Even if I send all of you out to fight, for days on end—” Owen squinted his eyes. “You won’t object.”

Dunhar smiled and looked up, as if he was gazing into the skies above. “That is what we desire. To die a glorious death above all else. Isn’t it, Gorath?”

Owen looked at Gorath, who nodded deeply as he glanced up above.

“Then… Alright,” Owen said. “I’ll take you in.”

“My Lord,” Rohan stepped forwards. “Placing your trust in a vanquished enemy… I can’t help but have my reservations.”

“You’re right, Rohan,” Owen said, looking at Gorath. “I don’t trust them. But I trust Gorath with my life. So, friend, what do you think?”

Gorath tore his vision from above, and placed it on Owen. Gorath bowed deep. “I believe it is a wise choice to remain vigilant. But I also believe that it would be foolish not to take them in. Warriors of the Blood Fury are not to be trifled with. Aim them at the beasts in the desert, and reap the rewards.”

Owen nodded. “Then that’s it. Dunhar, welcome to the family.” He extended his hand. Dunhar was confused at first, but took Owen’s small hand into his own.

You have subjugated the forces of a Lord and forcefully placed them into your System.

| Units gained; Mage: 1, Warrior: 17

Eighteen in total was a considerable increase to his force. Just them alone contributed to more than half of his fighting units. But he couldn’t remove the nagging reminder that it was because of them that he had lost Cedric and others. Hell, even if it was just Dunhar alone, would still be a huge upgrade to his power.

It was only the thought that it was only because they were ordered to do so by the Orcen Lord that he managed to move on. He knew that some of his units didn’t have that same level of forgiveness. Rohan was one of them. Perhaps the only people who truly didn’t care were Pyris and Lome. Pyris because she hadn’t fought alongside the others, and Lome because he was an undead warrior with little in the way of ‘feelings’.

“Something powerful is approaching from the north,” Owen said, “But we can still hunt to the east and west. Dunhar, are you sure about heading out knowing that?”

Dunhar slammed his fist on his chest. That, along with his vibrant eyes, told Owen all he needed to know.

“Then along with the orcen warriors, take them out en force. Hunt anything in your path. If you find humans, ignore them and return with the news.”

“What if they attack us?”

“Defend and return,” Owen said. “I repeat, do not harm them. I have friends out there and if they attack, then they attack out of fear.”

Dunhar bowed. “My Lord, your orders are my command.”

Gorath stepped forwards. “My Lord, I request to join them.”

Owen stood up. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, Gorath said, “The faster I can assimilate with the others, the quicker I can demand trust and allegiance.For trust to grow, I must fight alongside them.”

“Dunhar, any objections?”

“Of course not, my Lord,” the orcen sand mage said. “His might will prove helpful in our assault of the desert.”

“So be it,” Owen said. “Prepare yourselves. Gather Lome, he will go with you.”

Lome, with the Armour of Nerzu, will be unstoppable against the other orcs. If they betray Gorath… Then I pity their fates, Owen thought.

“There is one more thing, my Lord,” Dunhar said.

“Please, speak.”

“The old camp of Rek’ka. There are women and children still there. I know not if they are still alive, but I hope you can bring them here.”

“And you didn’t think of telling me this before?” Owen asked.

“With all due respect, you are a Lord,” Dunhar said, eyes lowered.

“No orcen lord would waste manpower on fetching weakened troops that require mouths to feed, my Lord,” Gorath said.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not an orcen Lord,” said Owen. “Before you go hunting, send for those still in the camp. I will house them here.”

Dunhar and Gorath bowed and left the castle.

Rohan approached, leaning on the table. “Do we have enough food and water to house them?”

“Food, we can manage,” Owen said, thinking about the future. His head ached. “The issue of water is also sorted with the newly created well. But I don’t know how long that water will last. With any luck, it’s a huge vein.”

“So—”

Owen interrupted, “So we will still house them. Casting aside the weak is not a Lord I wish to become. No matter how hard it gets. I will retain my humanity. But that means we need to be smarter and make use of any resource at our disposal.”

“Like the orcs?”

“Like the orcs,” Owen said, nodding. “Although I don’t feel good sending them out, it’s clear their religion demands it. I won’t say no to that. I need their strength.”

Rohan was about to say something, held it back for a second, then said anyway, “Morale within our troops is low because of the war with the orcs. They don’t trust them, and don't like being with them. Gorath is one thing… Dunhar and the others are another.”

“I know,” he replied, cracking his fingers to ease the tension building. “I have some ideas to ease morale. The well will be the beginning of that. I just need a heat source. Cindrelle, I think, has what I need.”

Rohan tilted his head. “What do you have in mind?”

Owen smiled. “A public spa.”

“A… spa?”

“Like a public spring?” Pyris asked, her already large eyes widening further.

“We all stink,” Owen said, chuckling. “It’d be good to relax the body and mind for a good while.”