Watching the massive orc, a war chief at that, do his best not to cry upon hearing the news of Belinda's death made something in Leonard’s heart unclench. His fiancée had been a fantastic woman, caring and beautiful, but her greatest quality had always been her incredible grit, something the orcs appreciated more than anyone else.
Being an Expert ranger, she had been tasked with exploring the Darkwood to find the void’s presence and had encountered several orc tribes. Each of them had come to respect her.
“You have given me terrible news, my friend,” Grakkor finally composed himself, though his eyes were still suspiciously lucid. “I imagine you’ve already killed the one responsible?”
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Leonard sighed. If only it were that straightforward.
“Unfortunately, whoever gave the order has obfuscated their steps enough that finding them is impossible.” Seeing anger in Grakkor’s eyes, he continued, “That left me with only one option: war.”
A deep rumble echoed through the clearing, “I see you haven’t gone soft, then. Good. The death of your woman should be repaid in blood. Have you come to request my aid?”
As much as Leonard would have liked for Grakkor and his tribe to join him - they were all Expert warriors apart from the old chief himself, who was a Master and would no doubt contribute greatly to the campaign - he knew their customs and didn’t have the weeks necessary to go through the preparations with them.
That was why the orcs hadn’t officially joined hands with the Royal Army during the Incursion. Even then, they demanded that anyone seeking to fight alongside them prove themselves through various challenges and were unwilling to compromise.
“I’d love to participate in the trials sometime soon, but I’m only here today to warn you that war might be coming to the Darkwood. I’m not going to stop until I’ve found Belinda’s murderer and cleaned up Haylich of the filth that clogs it.” Leonard eventually replied.
Grakkor hummed, crossing his meaty arms, “I see. Thank you for the warning, friend. I wish you a good hunt. When you come for us, I’ll prepare the trials in advance.”
That was as far as he could push his authority without incurring in mutiny. Leonard sincerely appreciated it.
The two then clasped each other’s right arm, slapped each other’s backs, and parted ways. Neither was a man of many words, and until the moment the orcs joined the revolution, Grakkor wouldn’t waste time discussing human politics.
With his conversation with Grakkor finished, Leonard resumed his journey, leaving the orc territory and heading north. The dense, verdant forest gradually thinned as he moved away from the heart of the Darkwood. As the day shifted towards afternoon, he found himself in the northern reaches of the forest, where the underbrush was less cumbersome.
Leonard slowed his pace to a reasonable speed as he entered a region where human presence was finally visible and logging efforts were in full swing. The nearby towns had been attempting to exploit the forest's resources for centuries, but the Darkwood was resilient. Its ability to regenerate quickly meant that any significant damage was short-lived. Moreover, the forest’s denizens did not tolerate reckless exploitation and responded swiftly and fiercely to any attempts to harm their domain.
The few guards stationed around the logging stations would barely be enough to stop a stone boar, much less an angry dryad, but Leonard supposed it was the best available. Everyone was still reeling from the incursion, and all available hands were being used in the fields to squeeze as much harvest as possible before winter came in a few months.
Leaving the forest behind, Leonard finally reached the main road, also known as the Green Belt, connecting Hassel, the regional capital, to the towns on the edges of the Darkwood in the west where the Green Sea began and Volten, the largest regional port town on that coast, sat.
Soon enough, he reached a tall hill where he could see the city in the distance. And a city it was. With massive, stout stone walls that had endured the Void’s attacks for months without faltering. Hassel, with a population of a hundred thousand, was the commerce center of the entire Duchy.
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Treon in the west certainly received more international merchants, sitting on the Great Slitherer’s delta, but Hassel was where the rest of the kingdom stopped. Rarely did anyone go further south, and even then, it was only if they wanted to make their way to Garva in the west via land.
Leonard surveyed the landscape before him from his vantage point on the hill. The bustling city lay in the distance, a hive of activity surrounded by sprawling fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. He could see people moving about like ants, going about their daily lives in blissful ignorance of the storm brewing just beyond their sight.
Still, Hassel was not his goal. Leonard took another moment to passively scan the area with his senses, making sure that no surprise elite was biding their time and was satisfied when he didn’t find any.
With a determined set to his jaw, he turned away and began making his way along the Green Belt that led to the capital. The road twisted and turned through the rich lowlands of the capital region, passing through fields heavy with crops and dotted with small villages and farmsteads. As he traveled, Leonard noticed with increasing discomfort the large number of slaves working in the fields, many of whom looked like they were native to Hetnia.
The sight filled him with a familiar anger. These people, likely refugees from the Incursion, had been forced into slavery by the very nobles who should have protected them. Their faces were gaunt and lined with exhaustion, their bodies emaciated and bruised from the harsh treatment they received. They labored under the sun, planting and caring for crops with the slow, mechanical movements of those who had lost all hope.
Leonard profoundly despised the people responsible for this atrocity, more than he had thought possible. The noble class turned a blind eye to the suffering of their people, exploiting them for their gain while living in luxury. He clenched his fists, his heart aching for the slaves who toiled in the fields, but he forced himself to continue on his path. As much as he wanted to free them now, he knew that anything he could do alone would be paltry compared to what he could achieve with an army at his side.
He moved through the countryside, his keen eyes taking in the state of the land and its people. The fields were fertile, but the workers' conditions were appalling. Slaves were dressed in ragged clothes, their bodies dirty and covered in sores. They worked under the watchful eyes of overseers, who carried whips and shouted orders, their faces twisted with cruelty and disdain.
I will free you. It might take a while to get here with an army, but I will come. Survive another day, struggle just a little more. Justice is coming.
Leonard's disgust grew with each step he took. He had witnessed enough suffering during the Incursion to last a lifetime, and seeing people treated like animals only fueled his resolve.
It struck him again how easily the nobility could have countered his revolution. The population would have stayed loyal had they simply taken care of their people and fulfilled their oaths. Instead, they were now ripe for someone like him, a dangerous revolutionary with otherworldly ideals, to take them.
Grakkor had asked him if he would take his revenge, and that was certainly part of it, but Leonard couldn’t ignore the small voice he had suppressed for too long that screamed what he was seeing was an abomination. That demanded he bring the system allowing it down, with fire and brimstone if necessary.
Already, the sight of so many freed slaves in Thelma and Alpar had lightened the burden on his heart, but it also showed that it was possible for things to change. It made it all the harder to keep walking.
That was the biggest point of contention he had with his friends. They all thought the world was a cold, unforgiving place where the strong would always oppress the weak and that going against the flow would only lead to more suffering. It was the same excuse he had repeated to himself once he realized how the place he had been summoned operated.
But what happened if someone even stronger than the oppressor came along? The power of choice would be theirs, and Leonard fully intended to change things radically. No more excuses.
Night fell, but he continued his journey. Rather than slowing down, now that fewer people were on the road, Leonard accelerated. He intended to reach Mellassoria before dawn, which meant not stopping to rest. Luckily, his constitution meant he could go without sleeping and not even feel it. He still did, most of the time, just to feel human. But he didn’t need to, and ever since the revolution started, he hadn’t bothered with the pretense.
As he neared the Heartlands, Leonard noticed more activity along the road. Where closer to Hetnia, caravans had rested just a stone's throw away from the road; they now quartered in inns and taverns. Lights and revelry were everywhere, and more than once, he was forced to slow down to avoid suspicion. Dozens of towns littered the way to Mellassoria, each ignorant of his passing.
After running for a day and a night, Leonard finally reached his destination. The capital was a massive city, more than ten times the size of Hassel. Gleaming white walls, enchanted with permanent wards meticulously kept by the Whiteguard, protected it from any assault.
Even before dawn, a line was forming of people waiting for the gates to open.
Great spires reaching for the sky dotted the city. Public baths, arenas, and even parks were held within its walls. Mellassoria was a city of contrasts. The grand architecture and vibrant markets spoke of wealth and prosperity, but Leonard knew behind this facade lay a darker reality. The nobles here were among the most corrupt in the kingdom, and their influence stretched far and wide.
Leonard moved toward the bay, avoiding the gates to bypass the guards and enter the city unnoticed. He reached the shoreline and, without hesitation, jumped into the sea. Swimming below the surface, he kept the aquatic creatures at bay with liberal use of his aura, creating a shield that deterred even the most curious predators, few that there were so close to House Haylich’s seat of power. The water was cool and clear, and Leonard moved swiftly, his powerful strokes propelling him toward the city’s sewers.
He found an opening and climbed into it without hesitation, ignoring the grime and algae as he navigated the labyrinthine tunnels. The sewers were dark and damp, but Leonard moved with purpose, guided by memory and a sixth sense honed during his time exploring the city with his companions.
Eventually, he reached a red sign etched onto a wall, a marker left by his old party to indicate a hidden entrance. Leonard took a moment to cast [Polymorph] upon himself, altering his appearance to resemble an average man, a guise he had used several times before. His luminous green eyes turned a dull brown, and his golden hair lost its luster. His nose widened, taking up more of his face and diverting attention from his features. His chin retracted slightly, and a dimple appeared at its center.
With a little more effort, Leonard became shorter, losing five inches to blend in with the crowds better.
With his new identity in place, he climbed up through the hidden entrance and emerged into the city proper.