Blake and Ilya walked along the wall of the orc city like countless others. They seemed far less empty than before, and Blake wondered if the tower orcs were starting to get tired of their permanent state of martial law.

If the ‘economy’ of the place was anything like human cities, he expected they simply couldn’t do it. You couldn't just keep an entire society of healthy men and women from going about their lives without expecting derangement, rebellion, and probably starvation. But whatever the reason, it was very good news for Blake and Ilya.

They blended easily into the crowd, wandering with the throng without a second glance from anyone. There was still the occasional warrior patrolling or looking half-heartedly around the crowd, but Blake doubted they’d even be able to pick his face from any other.

He still didn’t know exactly how Adaptive Veil worked. He got the impression his features didn’t ‘change’, though, because he always seemed to look the same to Ilya. Nor did he see any way to change them intentionally. Though that would surely be good to figure out if it was so.

They stood outside Ilya’s house for several minutes pretending to shop at the nearby merchants. It had clearly been ransacked, the outer door torn off its hinges, an empty room visible inside.

Not only was there no obvious guards, it looked like there was squatters inside.

"Well," Blake frowned as he watched the few orcs move about. "We can't clear them out without getting unwanted attention. We could join them, but I can't exactly practice making constructs with an audience. Is there more to that secret stream? Can we explore it?"

Ilya nodded. "When I was younger I crept through it a ways. There's many passages.” Her tone darkened. “But we shouldn't let any of those filthy degenerates in there see us enter it."

Apparently Ilya wasn’t much pleased about her childhood home being looted and occupied.

Blake took her hand and walked through the broken door, paying no attention to the dozen miserable orcs lying down in different rooms. They went to the secret tunnel and found it was still hidden behind the family tabard, which didn't seem likely to last forever either.

A single big orc sat in the room, one armed and with broken tusks, he looked up at Blake and Ilya with a scowl.

"Room's taken. Get out," he said gruffly, and Blake sighed. He couldn't allow this orc to talk or arouse suspicion. A corpse wasn't ideal, either, which left his choices pretty clear. He knelt and looked the orc in the eye, activating Mental Influence and Mind Control and quick succession.

“The King is coming back here,” he said, voice sounding strange to his own ears with arcane enhancement, “and he'll kill anyone he finds in the traitor's house. You need to get far, far away, as quickly as you can.”

The orc's eyes widened with fear and anger, but he groaned to his feet and pushed passed Blake in silence, bumping their shoulders roughly as he went. As soon as he was gone, Blake found a ripped curtain and hung it in the doorway.

"There we are," he said with a smile, holding back the tabard to reveal the tunnel. "Ladies first."

Ilya gave him a slightly concerned look, and he was reminded about Mason's warning and people's feelings about mind control. No doubt she couldn't help but wonder if he used such things on her.

But he wasn't sure how to reassure her. Either way, she walked on and ducked under the tabard, disappearing into the tunnel.

* * *

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Exploring the secret tunnels behind Ilya's home was dark, cramped, and altogether unpleasant. Blake finally stopped and made himself a lantern with True Making, dulling it slightly when Ilya complained.

The stream wound and vanished through holes and crevasses far too small to be followed, but other narrow passages usually took them back to find it again. By the time Blake was getting so claustrophobic he was ready to give up and return to the somewhat larger area right outside Ilya's home, a tunnel expanded.

Then it expanded again, and again. Blake and Ilya found themselves standing in a small cavern with several more passages leading out. It even looked like there was a large patch of mushrooms growing near the stream that ran through a corner.

Ilya clapped her hands excitedly and half hugged Blake before she got self-conscious and calmed down.

"This will do, yes?"

"It's perfect." Blake smiled. "I like mushrooms as much as the next guy, but we still have a food problem. I guess we can make our way back and bring in as much as we can carry. Can I...put you in charge of that? So I can focus?"

Ilya nodded. "I'll look around some more. But if I have to go back the way we came and get food, that's what I'll do."

Blake wanted to bring up the mind control and say she didn't have to worry—to thank her for everything she did for him. To tell her how glad he was to have her company. Instead he just smiled and met her eyes.

"Let's get to work."

The world disappeared as Blake focused on his powers. Every now and then he heard Ilya enter or exit their new little home, but he paid no attention. All his focus went towards fixing the last bits of damage to his Partition, and designing new constructs.

He couldn't know the exact nature of his enemy, but monstrous strength was a clear enough bet. His basic 'plan' was a single Psionic defender to keep the king busy, then several Arcane damage dealers covered in weapons to rip him apart. He summoned several variations of the damage dealers and forced them to fight in the limited space, hiding himself in the tunnel.

The clear winners used something like a pick-axe, but then breaking constructs wasn't the same as breaking an orc king. Still, it seemed a good bet against something tough or armored, and he focused more on piercing weapons than slashing. It would also be easier to stab in a confined space against the same target, so he gave them one spear arm, and one pick arm, with a third smaller arm on the front to grab and arcane burn if it came to it.

When he finally looked up from his final design, Ilya was sitting by a small fire surrounded by food and cooking utensils. He blinked as he stared.

"How did you?..."

"Could you make us some blankets or furs or something? I didn't much like the mattress. Oh! And we need some bowls. I couldn’t find any."

Blake grinned and set to work, able to set the duration of Practical Objects for several days without much mana. Then they were sitting by the fire eating some kind of typical orc stew, and Blake groaned at the warmth and the salt and the quiet, peaceful dark.

"A day to test some tactics," he said, "then I'll be ready enough. But I need to figure out this king's routine. They'll know your face, but very few will know mine. So I'll go out snooping."

Ilya nodded, then scrunched her face slightly. "Can't you...I mean you're a human who looks like an orc. Can't you change it? Your face I mean?"

Blake shrugged. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I guess I could...turn off my disguise, and wait a day. Maybe tomorrow try it again, see if that matters. It won't...bother you, to see me as a human?"

Ilya shook her head slowly, and Blake dropped his Adaptive Veil.

"Boo," he said with a wink, trying not to feel too uncomfortable as Ilya stared.

She shook her head as if in amazement. "Your eyes are so...blue. Can I..." she shifted herself slightly towards him. "Can I touch your skin? I just want to...feel what it's like."

"If you wish," Blake said, not sure what else to say. Ilya kept sliding towards him, then reached out like he was some kind of rattlesnake. "I don't bite," he said, grinning, and she went a little yellow.

Her hands were very feminine looking just like the rest of her, but her skin was somewhat rough. She ran her fingers along his cheeks and chin, giggling when she played with his ears and eyebrows.

"You're so smooth," she said. "Like baby's skin."

"I have no idea if that's flattering," Blake said, making Ilya giggle. Then he noticed a flashing timer in the corner of his eye and grinned.

"What?" she said, still obviously a little embarrassed but not enough to stop touching him.

"You'll see, Cinderella."

She narrowed her exotic amber eyes, then looked down as her clothes started to fade, then collapse entirely in a heap, leaving her topless and in nothing but a loincloth.

She froze in something like panic as Blake inspected her with no attempt at subtlety.

"Can I touch your skin?" he said, running a finger over her hand.

"If you…wish," she sort of squeaked back, still blushing as she bit her lip.

Blake was no stranger to the curious and amorous looks of women, and frankly, as gentlemanly as he wished to be, he had run entirely out of reasons to ignore it.

He trailed his fingers down her arms and sides, then leaned forward and kissed her.