Oralia had never been successful at joke-telling. Her sense of comedic timing and ability to ad lib on the spot were not so much undeveloped as they were nonexistent. It didn’t help that on the few occasions she ventured out of her comfort zone, her efforts were rarely recognized as humor. Today was the exception. For what might have been the first time in her life, Oralia not only delivered a joke with the appropriate timing, but somehow managed to stick the landing as well.

Not in the way she intended, of course.

‘Maybe I like it tight.’ Good gods, Oralia! Could you have said anything any worse had you tried?

Unfortunately, it was too late to take it back. Briony had already heard. The faun’s upper teeth were sunk deep into her lower lip in an attempt to stifle the snorts of laughter bubbling up from within her chest. Briony’s willpower gave out almost immediately and she doubled over, holding her sides as tears streamed down her face.

If nothing else, at least Sascha would get a kick out of it later. Provided Oralia recovered enough of her dignity to tell him, that is. With a strained smile that said ‘yes, I know what I just said and I undisputedly meant it, too’, Oralia stepped around Briony and continued onward. She had no idea where she was going, but far, far away seemed as good of a direction as any. Briony would compose herself in due time and correct their trajectory as needed. At least Oralia hoped so. Judging from the laughter growing fainter with each step, there was a chance Oralia would be traversing alone for the foreseeable future.

Dammit.

A mere matter of strides later and Oralia had already lost sight of her guide. She backtracked, forced to rely on her sense of sound to guide her. Briony was as Oralia had left her, still hunched in half, holding her sides as she shook with mirth.

It wasn’t that funny. Oralia folded her arms with a sigh. “Are you coming or not? It will be nightfall soon.”

Briony could barely stand on her quivering legs. She outstretched her arms in Oralia’s direction, gasping, “I can’t walk. Carry me.”

“No.”

“It’s your fault!”

“Lower your voice.” Not necessarily because Oralia expected anyone to be out this far, but because doing so had the potential to end the conversation sooner.

Still fighting a fit of giggles, Briony swung one cloven hoof in front of the other as she stumbled forward through the tangled undergrowth, drunk on mirth. “You know,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “I think I’m starting to see it now.”

Silence, Oralia decided, was the only way forward. Perhaps if she refused to partake in the conversation, Briony would let it die a natural death.

The little faun gave Oralia’s forearm a reassuring pat as she staggered past. “This whole time I’ve been thinking you’re some stuffy old battle-ax, but you have a fun side, don’t you? Only, you like to pretend you don’t. So you surround yourself with degenerates so nobody notices.”

“You got all of that from one bad joke?” Oh dear. The hormones raging through her system were making her transparent. Nobody had any right to be able to see through her so clearly. “I think you may be reaching a little.”

Briony plowed on ahead with a newly recovered sense of balance. “Nope. I definitely see it now. There won’t be putting you back in that box. One could almost say it’s too tight for you now?”

Oh, for the love of gods. Oralia followed Briony’s path with a despairing shake of her head. “I will not be living this down anytime soon, will I?”

“To be fair, I’m just doing what I was told. Didn’t expect it to be this fun, though. So I’ve got that going for me, at least.”

Doing what she was told? Oralia chewed on this as she ducked to avoid the low hanging bows of black spruce. The answer, she realized, was obvious. She uttered the name through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to slam her fist into the nearest tree. “Ralizak.”

“She had concerns that without her around you would — now how did she put it? It was rather graphic, if I recall.”

“There is no need to share.”

Briony did so anyway, with great relish. “Reinsert the stick up your ass? Something along those lines, anyway.”

What a lovely sentiment. Oralia would be sure to thank her lieutenant properly by demoting Rali the moment she returned. Unless of course Rali returned with an army, in which case Oralia would have to settle for a stern brow-beating. No, she could do better than that. Forget the demotion, Oralia would hit her where it really hurt: a promotion. It was perfect! Rali avoided responsibility at all costs. She would despise the extra authority with every delinquent bone in her body.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The surrounding landscape changed as Oralia followed her guide, silently plotting her revenge. The trees were shorter, as though they’d regrown over the past decade or so. Remnants of hand-built structures started to crop up amongst the tangled overgrowth as well. A portion of a fence here, a moss-covered retaining wall there, a raised garden bed overrun with dandelions up ahead. The slope of the terrain shifted, rising into a steep fern-covered hill. They passed several skeletal remains of burnt buildings as they climbed — all of which were now rotted and adorned with a variety of moss and fungi.

Oralia reached the top of the hill breathless from exertion. Much unlike Briony, who appeared utterly unaffected by the strenuous climb. The faun pointed across what might have once been a well-tended courtyard. “There’s our lookout point.”

The stone pigeon tower was nearly indistinguishable from its dim surroundings thanks to a generous tangle of wild ivy. It was the only structure on the property untouched by ruin. Having withstood the test time, fire, and abandonment, the tower was a testament to its craftsmanship. As Oralia neared, throat tightening at the sight of the crumbling stone staircase that spiraled around the exterior, she hoped said craftsmanship could withstand the full weight of an orc as well.

Briony ascended first. Her hooves scraped for traction against the worn stone as she moved up the spiraling staircase at a snail’s pace. Oralia appreciated the lack of rush as it gave her the time necessary to consider each step carefully. The ivy was thick and slippery. A single misstep was all that separated her from a gruesome fall.

The last of the waning light dipped beyond the western horizon and the sky grew dark. Patches of the star-speckled sky peeked through the interlaced canopy overhead. The moon was but a sliver. Its pale glow was too weak to light the way. Unequipped with night vision, Briony was forced to forfeit the lead at the halfway mark. Oralia took charge from there, offering both her hand and directions as needed.

It wasn’t until she’d reached the final steps that Oralia realized there was no roof. The top of the pigeon tower had been left open to the elements, allowing for its feathery occupants to come and go freely. There was belvedere across from her, located on the opposite end, but the only way to reach it was via a narrow stone platform that jutted out precariously over the rim of the open aviary. It had possessed handrails at one point. Naturally, those had been worn away by the elements, much like the platform itself.

Sensing Oralia’s hesitation, Briony offered an uncharacteristic word of encouragement. “It’s not going to fall.”

“How can you be so sure?” Was she stalling? Absolutely. But for good reason! Death by pigeon tower was such a stupidly memorable way to go. Oralia wanted to be remembered for her actions, good and bad, not for being the idiot who fell to their death after slipping on bird poo!

“I don’t,” Briony replied a little too honestly. She could have at least made something up to settle Oralia’s nerves. “But it hasn’t fallen yet and we’re not exactly flush with other options here.”

Oralia still did not find this a good enough reason to sidle out onto the rickety platform of slippery death.

“Alright look, if you die, I’ll spin a story, yeah? It wasn’t a fall that got you, it was something better. More memorable. Death by bear mauling, or what have you.”

Oddly, Briony’s offer made her feel slightly better. That or the last of Oralia’s sanity had finally thrown in the towel. Cautiously, one slow step at a time, she edged out across the platform, trying not to gag at the rancid smell emitting from the inside. It held strong, fortunately, allowing Oralia to reach the much sturdier belvedere on the other side. Briony made it across safely, too, in half the time it had taken Oralia.

Oralia had to admit, putrid bird shit aside, the tower did make for an ideal lookout. Built atop one of the hills overlooking the village, she could make out each individual home situated in the valley below. Had there been sunlight to aid her vision, she might have even been able to count the number of guards patrolling the roadways. The village square stood out at its center, a distinct patch of nothing amongst a sea of straw-thatched roofs.

Oralia extended her hand in Briony’s direction expectantly. “The spyglass?”

The faun dutifully produced the item from the pouch strapped to her side. She hovered close, shifting her weight from one hoof to the other as she waited for Oralia’s assessment. “They’d just started construction last time I was up here. Couldn’t tell what it was then.”

Oralia lifted the spyglass to her right eye. The village square came into focus, as did the structure erected at its center. Her stomach dropped.

“Something’s wrong.” All former traces of humor bled out from Briony’s voice in an instant. “I can tell by your face. What is it?”

“Gallows.” Not just a simple double post and beam setup, either. Someone had gone through the effort of constructing an elaborate design, complete with stairs, trapdoors, and enough space to execute a dozen prisoners at once. It was not any ordinary gallows, it was a statement from Geralt Lazuli himself and it said: I built this all for you.

“...But…but Ellery would have told me. He wouldn’t have let this happen without…” Briony’s words failed her, momentarily, before she picked up again, searching for an alternate explanation. “Are you sure?”

“Briony.” Oralia collapsed the spy glass as the churning in her stomach doubled. The words were like hot bile on her tongue. “There are two villagers hanging from it. One of which is Ellery.”

“Oh gods,” the faun whimpered, her voice barely a whisper.

“Did Ellery know about the tunnels?”

“I-I don’t think so.” Briony lifted her trembling chin as tears streamed down her cheeks, searching Oralia’s face with wild desperation. Briony’s glassy eyes grew wide and rimmed in white. “But he knew about my cottage.”

The queasiness in Oralia’s gut solidified into a cold lump of ice. Ellery may not have known about the tunnel systems, but it didn’t matter how Briony was getting to and fro if there wasn’t a safehouse to return to. Even trained soldiers cracked under the pressure of torture. There was no reason to expect an innocent villager to fare any better. The realm would have squeezed Ellery for every drop of information he possessed, including the location of their hideout.

Briony was already scurrying back across the platform for the stairs. “We need to get back! We have to warn the others before it’s too late.”