Oralia was sealing the last of her letters by the time the team came pushing and shoving their way into the makeshift war room. The only member missing was Sascha, who already knew the details of Oralia’s plan and had taken it upon himself to forage for fresh ingredients as far from the cottage as physically possible. She preferred it that way, actually. Sascha was like a calming balm, capable of soothing even the worst of tempers. A people pleaser by nature, his first instinct would be to find a middle ground. Oralia, however, didn’t need compromise, she needed results. And if stoking a few tempers is what it took, then so be it.
“Alright, boss. As requested, we’ve got the whole gang here. One elf, one gobby, two dingleberries, and yours truly.” Rali jostled her way through the ragtag ensemble until she stood front and center. Rali could sniff out an impending fight in the same way a shark could sense blood in the water. Her tone was overly cheerful as a result, leery of what was about to happen and, more importantly, which side of the scrimmage she was going to be on. “What’s this about, eh?”
Oralia skipped the niceties and dove straight into making demands. “Mul, Lingon, I need one of you to find a raven and get a letter to your brother Bil immediately.”
Lingon stood with a finger shoved halfway up his left nostril. He didn’t seem particularly bothered to be caught picking his nose in the middle of the war room. The finger remained lodged in place as his incessant need to question everything reared its ugly head. “What for?”
Oralia took a breath, not due to a lack of answer, but because she already knew his response and dreaded the tedious back-and-forth that was to follow. “I am asking for Bil’s help.”
“Help? Ha! You don’t just need help, you need an army.” Lingon said, still working away at what might have been a bit of petrified brain matter. “There ain’t no better army than a Stoneclaw army and you know it, which is why that letter’s probably asking to borrow his.”
Having your plans predicted so easily by a man with a knuckle jammed halfway up his brain cavity was a complicated feeling. One to which Oralia could not quite put words.
A triumphant smile spread across Lingon’s narrow face. “Called it.”
Oralia pushed her annoyance aside and answered truthfully. “Yes, I am asking his army.”
Although the Stoneclaw army was a relatively small one, the reputation of its warriors was far-reaching. Even a handful of mountain folk had the potential to sway the impending conflict in Lonebrook’s favor.
“Fat chance of that,” Mul said with a scoff. “No letter is gonna convince Bil to get off his ass now that he’s finally found someplace for the clan to settle.”
It was as she feared. Naturally, Oralia had a backup plan already prepared. “Then one of you will have to go and plead my case in person.”
“I don’t think you understand.” Mul crossed his burly arms over his chest and widened his defiant stance. It was a commendable effort, but a wasted one nonetheless. Relying on physical intimidation was generally a lost cause when your opponent was a fully grown orc. The human, alas, did not rely on intimidation alone, but words too. Logical ones. The worst kind.
“Just because you’re friendly with us doesn’t mean Bil’s gonna feel the same way. You’re the one who brought destruction to our mountain in the first place, remember? Bil’s not going to lend you shit.”
“It was the three of you who chased your younger brother, Rasp, from the Iron Ridge in the first place,” Oralia challenged. She remained seated. While standing and towering over Mul would certainly help put the human in his place, she vowed to reserve it until absolutely necessary. For now, she would allow the facts of the matter to do the heavy lifting on her behalf. “The same younger brother who bears silver hair, the irrefutable mark of a Stoneclaw leader, if I am not mistaken.”
Some of Mul’s resolve shrank along with his shoulders. “So?”
“You attempted to murder him, as both your brother and your leader. As the silver-hair, it is within his power to execute anyone who plotted against him, including family.”
“But he–”
Oralia cut Mul off before he could finish his sentiment. “Yes, Rasp spared your life once before, out of urgency for the situation. That does not mean your brother has forgiven you. I believe this is what humans refer to as ‘unfinished business’.”
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Mul and Lingon traded wary looks. Neither interrupted this time, focused on containing the mounting panic raging behind their wide eyes.
Oralia continued, content to watch them squirm beneath the weight of their own actions. “If I were you, I would be doing everything in my power to make things right with him. Starting with Lonebrook. Rasp cares about the people who reside here. Enough so, that if you were to help save the village, he may be willing to forgive the unforgivable and overlook your assassination attempt.”
“Huh.” Lingon dropped the finger from his nose as his stare lifted, taking in the empty space above Oralia’s head.
“Huh,” Mul agreed, also refusing eye contact.
“Is that a yes, gentlemen?”
With nothing left to pick, Lingon’s hands didn’t appear to know what to do with their down time. He fiddled with the tattered ends of his jacket as he spoke. “I suppose it might be wise to try and get back in the little twerp’s good graces.”
“Excellent,” Oralia replied. “Pack your things.”
Lingon’s nomadic stare whipped back in her direction. “You want us to leave now? Right before all the action starts?”
“Only one of you, ideally.” Oralia selected the topmost letter from the pile and extended it in his direction. “You know where your clan is now. It is a long shot, I understand. But, like you, I am hopeful that your older brother will see the wisdom in appeasing the true leader of your clan. If Bil wishes to be spared from Rasp’s wrath, he will allow the sender to return with a portion of his army.”
Was Oralia effectively pulling this, as Rali would put so eloquently, ‘out of her ass’? Yes. Although she did not doubt that Rasp still harbored animosity towards his brothers, she did not know to what depths it extended. Fortunately, Rasp wasn’t here to contest her strategy. And even if he were, Oralia was certain he would have approved of rescuing his chosen family by any means necessary. Doubly so if it meant torturing his brothers with the reminder of their own foul deeds.
“Not it!” Mul announced, slamming a clenched fist into his brother’s arm.
Lingon recoiled, clutching his injured arm with a snarl curled over his thin lips. “You can’t call dibs on staying!
“Can and did.”
“Over my dead body.” Lingon put up his guard and shifted his weight to his back foot. Pound for pound, he would never match Mul’s brute strength, but Lingon had speed on his side and Oralia had seen him use it to his advantage far more times than she cared to remember. The sneer on his face twisted into a smile. “We settle this fair and square, just like we always do.”
Oralia snapped her tusks against her upper teeth. To her surprise, the brothers heeded her warning, and stopped squaring the other up. “If one more fist fight breaks out between you two in this house, I will send both of you to deliver the message.”
She wouldn’t, actually. Oralia needed to keep her numbers in Lonebrook strong, but neither of them needed to know that. “Mul,” Oralia said, “you stay. Lingon, take the letter and the fastest horse you can find. Leave immediately.”
The slender man looked like he wanted to argue but Oralia’s unflinching stare convinced him to reconsider. Grumbling his acknowledgement, Lingon took the letter and stomped out. For all of Lingon’s speed and cunning, Mul was still the better fighter. His size and strength would be crucial for the trials to come. And, with his main source of conflict having been removed, perhaps there would be less complaining in general as well.
Grinning from ear to ear, Mul waggled his eyebrows at Rali in a manner that no one, the most desperate of humans included, would have found seductive. “You hear that, Pickle? Even the boss knows our love is too strong to keep us apart.”
Oralia squashed Mul’s hopes before her lieutenant had the opportunity to squash him in the literal sense. “Rali will be returning to Adderwood.”
Both Rali and Mul jerked their heads back in Oralia’s direction. “She is?” Rali said. “Can’t you send someone else? Somebody a little less important, maybe?”
“I’ll go!” Kalihn’s arm shot into the air. “No offense to any of you, but after all that fun in the woods with the fire witch and marauding gangs of bandits, I’m not interested in partaking in an actual battle.”
“Perfect,” Rali agreed.
“Kalihn, thank you for your service.” Oralia refrained from the addition ‘it was an honor watching you duck behind the corner the moment there was any action’. “You are free to do as you wish. If that includes traveling to Adderwood, Rali will ensure you arrive there safely.”
Rali placed her hands on her hips. “Excuse me? Just ‘cause I call you boss, doesn’t mean I have to do what you say.”
“As reluctant as I am to lose you, friend, I need someone who will not hesitate to throw their weight around. The New Adderwood Republic just gained their independence. Their leaders will not be in any hurry to squander their resources jumping straight into another rebellion. You will have to make them reconsider.” Oralia paused, uncertain of whether or not her next words were a step too far. “At the very least, Captain Bernstein will be pleased to see you.”
The giddy smile faded from Mul’s face. “Uncalled for! You can’t send the love of my life into the arms of another man and expect me to be happy about it.”
“I do not expect you to be happy about it.” Oralia’s gaze shifted from Mul to Rali. “Either of you, but it is necessary.”
This was not the last Oralia was going to hear on the matter. The unbridled fire dancing within the dwarf’s dark eyes promised that there was more to come. Much, much more. Oralia would be lucky if she had two fully functioning ear drums by the time Rali was done saying her piece. The argument, luckily, could be postponed a little bit longer as Oralia had one last item to deal with before Rali was allowed to release all seven realms of chaos upon her in a single go.