Compared to humans, orcs were stronger and faster, and for the most part, braver.

However, human knights could close that gap through training and superior equipment. In his time at the camp, Adam had seen multiple orcs fall to a clever sidestep and slash.

Worse than their strength, however, was that the knights were wily. The average attack on the camp came from villagers with no real knowledge of battle. Like orcs, they had no formations and tended to attack in straightforward, simple ways. Unlike orcs, they didn't have the sheer strength and physicality to back the tactic up.

But, even a fully trained, fully armored knight had to respect the power of an enraged ancient orc.

As the chief approached, the knight in front of Adam flinched away from his charge. Adam took advantage of the moment to make the best choice he could - he dashed past the knight and moved towards the approaching peasants.

This moved him out of the chief’s way. A few steps past the rooted knight, he heard a satisfying crack as the chief slammed into the knight’s shield. Adam roared and accelerated towards the peasants as the air filled with clangs from the chief and knight.

The chief could take down a knight by himself, but not if he had a dozen peasants chopping at his legs. Adam was the only warrior available to stop them.

Adam pulled back his sword and leaned into his shield and slammed into the first of the peasants like a wrecking ball. The peasant went flying and Adam kept going, knocking another two peasants off their feet. Each impact came at a cost of momentum. Soon Adam was at a standstill, trying to bash the peasants away with his shield as they swarmed him.

At least they aren’t on the chief, Adam thought.

Things began to go poorly when, of all people, fat-face managed to land a blow on Adam's knee. It wasn’t enough to injure Adam, but it was enough to buckle his knee back and destroy his balance. When the next peasant hit his shield, his lack of stability left him falling onto his back.

In the distance, he saw that the other human group still held his team at bay. Without help coming, he did what the first thing he thought of, he rolled. Unable to stand but outclassing any individual peasant a great deal in terms of weight and strength, he bowled them over. He wasn’t doing much damage, mostly coaxing some yelps and screams out of the peasants, but it kept them at bay.

One peasant was smart enough to realize that where human legs buckled, their weapons didn’t. He planted his sword a foot deep in the ground, like a sharpened stake. Adam was forced to stop rolling and the peasants were on him like flies. He batted his shield back and forth enough to make them cautious, but it would be moments before they were on him, stabbing and clubbing.

“ENOUGH!”

The chief’s roar was loud enough that against all odds, the peasants stopped fighting momentarily.

“HOLD!” the knight yelled. “But kill that one if he tries to get up”.

The peasants did hold their attack, although this came with its own disadvantage - if the knight told them to attack, all their blows would drop at once. Adam wouldn’t be able to stop half of them.

Adam craned his head around to see the knight on the ground, presumably having been knocked there by the chief. The chief stood ready to swing his great axe down.

“We have had enough. If you agree to stop the fighting here, I will return your knight to you. No bounty. And I will allow you to live.”

The knight scoffed, but flinched when the axe began to drop. The chief bared his fangs.

“Choose. I will not ask many times, human.”

The knight was shaken, but bolstered his courage enough to negotiate.

“I will consider it, if you let go of the other bounties you’ve taken as well.”

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“Unacceptable. Choose.”

“You have to be reasonable - your own people are at risk, as well.”

“Choose.”

“I think that you need to consider my offer…”

The knight argued until the chief sliced his arm off. Then he was agreeable enough.

—

Orcs were not much for dancing, but post-battle celebrations were lively all the same. Adam walked through the familiar sight of orcs pounding each other on the back. Most orc food at the camp consisted of meat-heavy stews with heavy, chewy bread, and the orcs ladled them out of huge pots with gusto.

This was no ordinary celebration. Blood-tests were special. They carried with them the risk of losing young warriors, but also the rejuvenation of a fighting force. The older orcs smiled with a mix of relief and happiness.

The captured sword from the knight - now Adam’s, by right of battle - was passed hand to hand and wondered at. Most orc weapons were fashioned rather than forged, and tended to rely on weight and size to do their work.

Twisting his head to find Luke in the crowd, Adam yelled, "Luke, this sword's your problem now."

His words were lost in the festivities. Poor Sam was lifted on the shoulders of a crowd of orcs that he was, in private, vocally afraid of. He did his best to look happy about it and ended up managing to look only slightly sick.

Max and Dax took a different tactic of actually searching for groups that hadn’t lauded them yet. They tried to look like they were wandering around the festivities. They failed. Luckily, orcs were not stingy with their congratulations. Max and Dax were not necessarily supposed to seek praise, but they were entitled to it, and no orc begrudged them for taking full advantage of the situation.

Luke sat, smiled, and took the praise as it came. He put off the same peaceful aura he always did, the same feeling that had helped to calm down Adam before the battle the day before. It was as contagious as ever. The orcs that stopped to talk to him approved of him with gentler, quieter manners, clasping hands instead of slapping shoulders.

All orcs but one. As the number of orcs still looking to hear his tale of battle ran down, Adam caught sight of the chief by the fire. Instead of cheering his own victory and celebrating with the others, he sat looking into the flames.

Adam broke free from the mob of celebrating tribesmen. He approached the chief and sat nearby.

“What are your thoughts on the battle, chief?”

“We… we lost no orcs, and we forced a victory against greater numbers. You have earned your place among us.”

There was no joy in the chief’s voice.

“I would like to know what you thought of my team's performance. How we could improve,” Adam said the last sentence with a bit of an edge.

The chief sighed, “Adam… imagine a line of orcs. Some young, like you, but most like me. Strong enough to rip a human’s arms from his chest, strong enough to scatter a human battle-line.”

The chief picked up a stick and began stirring the embers of the fire with it.

“The orcs would charge, they would move forward through the humans and send them to the ground. We would tread on them with our boots. And we would feed the ground their blood.”

He looked up at Adam, finally.

“You did well. You fought bravely. You are strong, for a young one. But I remember a time when orcs were powerful, when we were feared. When humans shaked at our approach instead of using us for training, or for sport,” the chief spat in the fire, “In those times, we never used these… tactics. Only strength.”

Adam tried and failed to find the words to respond as the chief stood and walked towards his hut.

—

The next day, life went on as usual in the village. Only so much of the camp’s needs could be met by bounties. For the rest, it was either necessary or cheaper to make do with foraging.

Around the camp, various groups split off into groups for various tasks ranging from gathering flints to digging edible roots. As always, Adam saw the same orcs pairing off.

Adam found Sam outside his hut, reheating some saved stew from the night before over a small fire. Sam looked up from his work, smiling.

“It was a good day yesterday! I still don’t believe we all lived.”

“I don’t think we would have if the chief hadn’t stepped in. We were lucky, Sam.”

Sam separated out half of his stew into a second bowl for Adam, who accepted it with a grunt.

“Have you decided what we'll do today? After spending yesterday scared for my life, I could go for something easier.”

“Heh. I thought we could go for a deer, or whatever large game we can find. If we get lucky, we might get something quick.”

“And then we can rest!”

Adam grinned. Sam held his hands up, palms out, as if warding him off.

“No! I know that look!”

“Do me a favor and gather the rest of the guys. I have an idea for a new formation. Something that I think might work again.”

Sam muttered as he walked off, but soon returned with Dax, Max, and Luke. They all took their places around Adam, and he began to tell them his plan.

“Something the chief said made me think. The humans win when they manage to break our strength. And we are strong, but… ten humans can kill an orc. Even untrained.”

The others looked down. Humans had that kind of number advantage now. Maybe even more than that. It was possible to refuse to see the changing landscape between the two races, and most orcs chose to. But it was impossible not to feel it, a feeling that orcs were in decline.

Adam stood and began to walk towards the outskirts of the camp.

“We don’t have the forces to fight in a line against the humans anymore. And even when we do, they strike from the side, and we lose. We almost lost yesterday,” he turned and looked at the group again, making eye contact with each of them. “We need something faster.”

As the Adam’s group moved off into the distance, the hulking figure of the chief emerged from behind a nearby hut.

Saying nothing, he turned and stalked away.