Leonard didn't even attempt to complain about the rough handling. Elder Wei was not the kind of woman to care, and they both knew he could have gotten out of the restraints anyway. She would have probably replied that he should do something about it if he was that uncomfortable being lugged around like a sack of potatoes.

Of course, that would mean failing the second test, and he couldn't accept that. While he didn't see the necessity of all this mummery—fake kidnappings, whispers in the shadows, and even a moonless night— he knew well enough to leave it alone. Orcs were very strict about keeping to tradition, and since he was about to be grilled by the elders, starting with a protest about the things they cared the most about wasn't likely to win any of them over.

Luckily, Elder Wei was fast enough that the discomfort lasted only half an hour.

Soon, Leonard sensed the mana tightening as a net around him in what felt remarkably like an oath. It wasn't exactly that, but the similarities were sufficient that he quickly realized the reason behind all the theatre. Anyone who willingly allowed themselves to be kidnapped in the middle of the night—minor poisoning notwithstanding, but those who couldn't resist that had been removed during the previous trial—was more than agreeable to respecting the terms of the trial.

A sufficiently powerful shaman, a Champion, or a cabal of Masters—the more likely option—would be able to take that acceptance and twist it into a fully-fledged "oath."

From now on, he wouldn't be able to lie, on pain of his magic turning against him. It was a clever bit of spellwork, and it showed that constraining the boundaries of knowledge to what was widely accepted in the human world would be a terrible mistake. Also, he was limited to body enhancement unless he wanted to break everything.

I'll have to remember to tell Jean. Better yet, I'll bring a shaman with me when I go back to the army and have them tell her. Yes, that's a better plan. This little detour is costing us a few days, but it's worth it since we're adding so much firepower. Any more delays are to be avoided if possible.

Finally, Elder Wei dropped him. Pretty roughly, too. It was lucky that Leonard hadn't suffered anything worse than mild annoyance since that last battle with the Incarnation.

The plant fiber sack was removed from his head then, and he could finally see again. Leonard blinked as the soft light hit his eyes, and he found himself standing in a misty clearing. The air was almost impossibly thick with swirling fog, which seemed alive as it drifted around him. He could make out a dozen floating flames in the hazy distance, each a different color. They hovered silently in the mist, pulsing with a strange, rhythmic energy.

Orcs really loved theatrics. He'd known that after spending a few months fighting the Incursion with them, but this went beyond his expectations.

Elder Wei was gone. She had disappeared as soon as she dropped him, vanishing into the mist without a word. Leonard wasn't surprised; she was not one for unnecessary pleasantries. He had once seen her rip the head off a deer and eat its brain while talking with a very flustered nobleman.

He instinctively tried to peer deeper into the fog, his enhanced eyesight straining to make out what lay beyond. But the moment he did, the oath tightened like an iron band around his chest, reminding him of the terms he had agreed to—he wasn't allowed to cheat. With a sigh, he let go of his attempt and stood straight, waiting for whatever would come next.

An aged voice broke the silence, tone muffled and distorted by the fog, making it impossible to tell where it was coming from or who it belonged to. Leonard could only tell that it was old, but there was no hint of gender or identity. "Who are you?" the voice asked.

Leonard stood tall and answered calmly. "Leonard Weiss. Grand Marshal of the Revolution and Hero of the Light."

There was a brief pause, and then the voice spoke again. "What did you come for?"

Leonard nearly smirked at that. He was tempted to quip that he hadn't come here of his own accord and had been brought by force, but he swallowed the remark. There was no point in snarking at the elders. Instead, he answered plainly but firmly. "I'm here to prove my worth as the leader of the Darkwood orcs."

The mist swirled more violently for a moment, and then the voice spoke again, this time with more clarity and purpose. "Each of us will ask you a question. You must answer honestly. Your responses will determine your fate."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Leonard nodded, keeping his posture relaxed but ready. He had expected this, after all. He knew how the orcs valued strength and wisdom. Receiving the elders' approval was absolutely necessary if one wanted to be recognized as legitimate. He'd play along with their little games if it meant he'd get what he wanted.

The first flame drifted forward, a soft blue light casting eerie shadows in the mist. When it spoke, its voice was soft but carried the weight of authority: "What is your vision of leadership?"

Leonard didn't hesitate. "A good leader is one that doesn't hesitate to do what he knows is needed for his people. The most pressing need facing Hetnia right now is achieving freedom for all. It will take a while, but every day, we get closer. My role is to create a just society where everyone can pursue their own path regardless of their origins. Leadership is about guiding others toward that goal, not ruling over them with an iron fist."

The blue flame receded, and a second flame, this one a deep crimson, floated closer. "What are your goals in the military campaign?" This voice was sharper, probing for more than surface answers.

And wasn't this the question everyone in charge of the neighboring states was asking themselves? He could avoid answering directly, but that would probably go against the rules, and he sincerely doubted any of the orc elders would sell non-provable information to a king thousands of miles away. Leonard's eyes hardened in resolve as he responded. "First, to take Hetnia. Then, Haylich. After that, I will export the Revolution to the ends of the world. The corrupt rulers of this world have held power for too long, and they will not give it up willingly. If we want a world of equals, we must be willing to fight for it."

There was a moment of silence, and then the crimson flame drifted back into the mist. The third flame approached. It was a bright, golden yellow. "What have you accomplished?" This voice was curious, almost challenging.

"I've defeated an Incarnation of the Void. I've led armies against impossible odds. I've liberated entire cities and united factions that have warred for centuries." Leonard paused momentarily, then added, "I've seen the cost of failure, and I've ensured my people will never have to pay it."

Several flames flickered, and he heard the faintest sound of surprise—a few gasps, perhaps. He had glossed over the first part, but he had just admitted something much more significant than simply stating his wish to bring freedom to other countries. The creatures birthed from the void came in many shapes and sizes and, more importantly, power levels. Void Scourges were widely known to be the most dangerous creatures, but some ancient records spoke of something greater than that. The Incarnation of the Void appeared vanishingly rarely and was said to herald the End Times.

Had this been any other situation, Leonard expected the elders would have dismissed his words despite the might he had shown. With an active spell ensuring he couldn't lie without breaking it, they had no choice but to accept it.

The golden flame retreated, and a fourth, a deep green, replaced it. "What will you do with the orcs once you have been named warchief?" This voice was softer, but there was an undercurrent of suspicion as if it expected him to give the wrong answer.

Now, this was a sensitive subject. His presence had put off many orcs. There hadn't been widespread protests only because Grakkor had personally vouched for him, and other warriors could back his word about his capabilities. That didn't mean anyone relished in the idea of allowing a human to become warchief. He'd have his work cut out for him when he won. "Those warriors who want to fight will be given the opportunity to wet their blades against the royal armies. They know my word is true when I say I have no mercy left for the slavers. But those who wish to live peacefully will be protected. The orcs will have a place in the new world, whether as warriors, traders, craftspeople, or anything else they choose."

The green flame seemed to consider his words before fading back into the mist. Next, another flame, a rich purple, floated forward. "How will you handle integration?" The question was direct and left no wiggle room.

Luckily, Leonard had expected this. "I will respect the local village as a majority orc one. But I will encourage peaceful trade and settlement with other communities. Those who wish to live among the orcs will be welcomed as long as they come in peace. And for those orcs who wish to leave and find their place elsewhere, I will help them do so."

The purple flame nodded—or at least it seemed to—and then withdrew. The final flame, a deep, shadowy black, hovered closer than the others had. "And how will you rule?" The voice was deep, almost menacing as if it dared him to slip up. The mist still muffled it, but Leonard was quite sure this was Grakkor himself.

Leonard met the challenge head-on. "Power is an unfortunate necessity. In an ideal world, wise men would rule without the need for an iron fist to enforce their decisions. But I've seen the horrors of allowing corruption to run rampant. If I must be the iron fist to prevent that, then I will be the hardest one that the world has ever seen. I will not allow the people's suffering to be prolonged by greed or cruelty."

The black flame lingered for a moment longer than the others before finally retreating. The mist around him began to swirl faster, the flames drifting back to their original positions, and the silence followed was heavy with expectation.

Finally, the aged voice spoke once more, its tone carrying a sense of finality. "You have answered truthfully, Leonard the Hero. We will deliberate. You are free to go back."

And the mist parted behind him, showing the way back to the camp.

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The forest was dark, with only the faintest traces of starlight filtering through the thick canopy above. The usual nighttime sounds of the Darkwood accompanied him—rustling leaves, distant animal calls, and the occasional snap of a branch underfoot. He could almost let himself relax after the tension of the trial.

But as he drew closer to the orc camp, something felt off.

The first sign was the faint echo of raised voices, too far away to make out any words but loud enough to set his instincts on edge. That wasn't normal. Orcs were loud by nature but in the middle of a Leadership Trial? This was supposed to be a quiet, solemn period of reflection and focus. No one would dare disturb it without a very good reason.

The closer he got, the louder the noise became—voices raised in anger, the clash of steel on steel, the unmistakable sounds of battle. Leonard's senses flared to life, taking in every detail. The orc camp was on high alert. He even went so far as to call upon Dyeus, which appeared at his side as faithfully as ever in an instant.

He tightened his grip around its pommel as he moved faster, cutting through the thick brush until he finally broke through to the massive clearing where the village was set up. It didn't take long to spot the source of the commotion. At the back of the camp, two warriors were locked in combat, their colossal swords clashing with enough force to shake the ground.

Neer and Hussa.