James was initially worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep track of the orcs who were holding his companions prisoner, but he soon realized that the orcs were not known for their subtlety.

“Fuck off, you areshole, no touching the meat!” A nasal voice sounded out through the trees, reaching James’ ears as he crept along the bushes. He didn’t have to peek over the bush to know that the two orcs carrying Archibald and Edmund were arguing once more about their ‘food.’

“Just a nibble! I bet Blood-Irk wouldn’t mind a couple of fingers or ears missing,” the orc protested.

“Quiet, dumbass!” The smart one shouted, thankfully dispelling any attempts at eating the two mercenaries, both of whom they tied up and carried in a crude cage cart. “If we take them both back to camp in one piece, we can be Lieutenants!”

“What’s so important about being an uh… Loo tent ant?” The hungry one questioned.

“Lieutenant stupid! And it’s a big deal! We get the best armor, axes, and the most food.”

“Ah… can I still use my big club? I care little for shiny axes.”

“You dolt, are you dense? Why would you want to keep using that useless thing?”

“I don’t know! It’s just so comfy to swing around and to hold…”

“Idiots. I’m working with idiots.”

James peaked over the bush, watching the two orcs argue as they pulled their cart along. The young man turned his attention to the two prisoners, one of them still moving around as he struggled with his bindings. James and Edmund made eye contact. Edmund’s eyes widened as he noticed James. The young blond man brought a finger to his lips, ensuring Edmund knew to stay quiet.

I’ll get you out of there as soon as I can, James mouthed to the mercenary, hoping that Edmund would understand. The bound and gagged man stopped struggling for a moment, looking frustrated with James’ calmness. He soon relaxed, sighing as he furrowed his brow. Something told James that the mercenary was more than a little disappointed at his delayed rescue but was smart enough not to make a scene over it. James nodded to Edmund before he disappeared into the greenery. He turned over to Haggard, who was hiding behind a thick vern tree with Bjorn.

They had been following the two orcs for a while now, hiding in the nearby forest as the orcs made their way back to their base camp, where most of their prisoners were supposed to be.

‘What are the chances that most of those prisoners are butchered meat?’ Faust asked, his question sending chills down James’ spine.

‘Let’s not think about the worst-case scenario just yet,’ the mortal man answered back.

James did his best to ease quietly through the forest. He was slowly going mad with the difficulty of moving through a forest quietly, in partial armor, with gear, and with fucking snow crunching beneath his boots. He gritted his teeth as he stepped on a particularly crunchy set of twigs, his fists clenching as he expected any of the two orcs to shout and charge at him and his group. Nothing. James sighed a breath of relief.

‘Either I’m lucky, or those orcs are really hard of hearing.’

James watched as Haggard and Bjorn continued on, unaware of the noise or seemingly not caring.

‘Probably the latter. Orcs are quite stupid,’ Faust commented.

James held back a chuckle at that, shaking his head as he continued on.

‘Still, do not underestimate them, James. I’ve seen what these bastards could do.’ Faust pointed out.

‘Have you ever experienced fighting them?’ James asked the spirit, peeking out to make sure the two orcs were in sight.

‘Let’s just say I had more than my fair share of fighting these brutes. Despite their stupidity, they’re efficient, cunning when needed, and more than merciless to those who aren’t them.’ Faust sounded a bit disgusted, as if his mouth had a nasty taste.

‘The hell happened in your past?’ James asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘I don’t fully know. A lot of things, I think. I even recovered more of my memories earlier today, back when you interrogated that orc.’

James blinked at that, remembering how his anger had flared during that time.

‘What kind of memories?’ James cautiously asked, a feeling of dread forming in his chest. Before the spirit could answer, his eyes caught something.

“What the?” James stopped his move through the forest.

He could see pillars of smoke in the sky, but nothing like back in Aldren.

‘Campfires.’

James looked up ahead. He could see Haggard and Bjorn hiding behind some trees, their focus on something other than the orcs they were following. James moved to their position, wondering what they were looking at.

“Is this their—?” James felt his words stop in his throat at the sight before him.

It was like what James had assumed, the base camp of those orcs. He could see many tents and campfires littered next to stumps. Despite that, some vern trees stood around with visible cuts on their bark. There seemed to be some large pots boiling over some campfires, orcs crowding around them as they ate. There was even a harbor plagued with five longships, one of which looked like the opposite halves of two ships that were nailed and put together. It all looked savage and primal, down to their shoddy craftsmanship and scavenged parts.

Still, that wasn’t the first thing that caught James’ attention. No, it was something that was sure to keep the young man void of any sleep for the following weeks. James had no words as he looked at the shoddy, small palisade surrounding the camp. Decorating the bloodstained walls were pikes that held what looked to be the rotting and ripped bodies of the orc’s victims. Or ‘meals’ as James realized, the horrifying idea dawning on him.

Humans, gnomes, dwarves. Almost all the bodies seem to have lost most of their meat and skin, leaving red muscles and bone exposed as black ravens picked at them. They were barely recognizable as people. James instinctively heaved, his eyes finally breaking away from the horrific sight.

“Hugh… Ugh,” James managed out, holding his stomach and mouth as he tried to keep it all in. He could feel a pat on his back, a voice speaking out.

“Never seen an orc camp before, huh? Yeah… It’s a rough sight the first time you come upon one,” Haggard muttered. James slowly held the contents of his stomach down, his jaw clenching as he looked up at the two men. Even Haggard looked sympathetic, as if he knew exactly what James was going through. Bjorn was watching the camp, a look of grim seriousness on his face. He no longer looked joyful or excited.

“Where are Archibald and Edmund?” James suddenly realized, panic settling in as he realized what fate he might’ve doomed upon the two mercenaries.

“They’re still being carried by those two idiots. It seems like they’re taking them to their prison,” Bjorn answered. “They’ll be fine for now,” he assured James.

“This makes no sense,” James started, shaking his head. “Those orcs said they want their prisoners alive for their leader.”

Bjorn shrugged at that, looking back at the camp as James stood back up. “Maybe those are the people who kept resisting,” the dwarf answered. “Or maybe… Their leader got what he wanted.”

----------------------------------------

“Are you even sure the orcs know where the vault is?” Seamus asked Lowe, watching as the gnome broke the wax seal on the copper vial.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Lowe answered, looking down at the potion in his hand. “They’ve captured damn near everyone on this island. I doubt there’s anyone left out there,” he muttered before he drank the vitality potion. The gnome grimaced at the taste, shuddering as he downed it all. “Ugh… It’s only a matter of time before those damned brutes get their answers,” Lowe commented, giving the empty vial back to Miles, who pocketed it.

“Alright then, are we ready to go out now?” Lowe asked, standing up with his newly wrapped bandages.

“I guess so…” Seamus looked at Miles, who shrugged as he stood up.

“I’m not one to deny the promise of adventure,” he commented behind his grinning mask.

“What about her?” Lowe pointed out, gesturing to the group’s oddball.

They all turned to look at the berserker woman, who had been watching them with curious eyes. Now that everyone was looking at her, however, she quickly changed her expression, scowling as she slowly backed away.

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“Friend of yours, Seamus?” Miles asked, catching the young man’s attention. Seamus turned to Miles, frowning a little.

“I’m not really sure. She saved me but doesn’t seem to want to communicate… or maybe she can’t.” Seamus shrugged before looking down at the gnome.

“Lowe, do you know who she is?”

“I might have an idea,” Lowe answered, rubbing his beard. “But we should really get moving.” He grumbled, looking up at Seamus. “Daylight is burning, and by nightfall, we won’t be able to navigate through the dark, let alone survive the cold.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Seamus asked.

“Either convince her to come or leave her here. Either way, we need to get moving now.”

Seamus frowned at that but didn’t argue with the gnome. He looked at Miles, who was trying his best to approach the berserker. Unfortunately for him, the strange and violent woman was not having it. She audibly growled at Miles, her hands reaching behind her waist. Miles quickly backed off, avoiding a lightning-fast strike from her ax. Seamus watched as the berserker prepared to attack Miles once more, both of her axes out.

“Hey, hey!” Seamus called out, stepping in between the two. As he expected, the berserker immediately backed down; her hostile demeanor suddenly dulled to visible discomfort.

“Interesting,” Miles muttered behind Seamus. The berserker scowled at Seamus but didn’t attack as she holstered her axes.

“Can you talk?” Seamus asked, wondering if the woman could speak at all.

‘Wouldn’t hurt to try…’

The woman raised an eyebrow at that, standing up fully as she stared at Seamus.

“Can you speak? Communicate? Say anything?” Seamus tried once more. The red-haired woman looked to understand his words but didn’t seem to want to talk. Just as Seamus was sure there was no way of communicating, the woman raised a hand in front of her, her fingers forming a sign. Seamus almost jumped at the sight, positive that he had stumbled upon some weird outback shaman with the capabilities of casting magic. But no fiery vengeance came upon the young man, which left him confused. The woman formed another symbol, this one pointing towards herself.

Seamus blinked, recognizing what she was doing.

“Sign speaking,” he muttered.

“What?” Miles asked behind him. Seamus ignored the mercenary.

“Do you communicate with hand signs?” The young man asked the woman, who nodded in response.

“Do you have a name?” Seamus asked, wondering if she even had one. The berserker seemed to hesitate, but her hands moved nonetheless, forming signs with her fingers. Seamus looked down at the signs she was forming, squinting as he tried to read them.

“Lilith,” Seamus muttered, raising an eyebrow. He looked at the strange woman in front of him, the same one who had butchered and brutalized orcs with little of a second thought. The same woman who had gutted an orc in front of him was named after a dainty little flower. Seamus was about to wonder if he had read the signs wrong before Miles spoke up.

“You can understand those signs?” asked the mercenary, catching Seamus’ attention.

“To some extent,” Seamus answered. “But it’s strange… Only a few people I knew used hand signs like her.”

“That explains why I couldn’t read them,” Miles added. “Where did you learn those signs?” The ex-follower asked. Seamus frowned at that, looking back at the woman named Lilith as she went back to watching the three with curious glances.

“My mother taught me… A long time ago,” Seamus muttered under his breath.

‘That red hair.’

Seamus gritted his teeth, still unable to get the unique colored hair out of his mind. He shook it to the back of his mind, deciding to dwell on it later as he stepped up to Lilith.

‘Let’s see if I can still sign.’

Seamus raised both hands, doing his best to form the appropriate signs as he spoke.

“Will you come with us?” He asked, his fingers forming the signs. Lilith tilted her head at that, furrowing her brow as she raised her hands and signed back to Seamus.

How come?

He sighed, moving to sign back as he spoke.

“We need help to get to a place.”

Why?

“There are…”

Seamus sighed in frustration, trying to find the correct sign to describe an orc.

“Green bastards around there?”

Seamus had barely signed those words when he noticed a spark in Lilith’s eyes, her hands excitedly signing back.

Yes.

----------------------------------------

James took a swig from his waterskin, which was filled with the horcus tea Dahlia had brewed that morning. He made a face as the taste reached his tongue, the tea’s harsh flavor not doing his queasy stomach any good. The warm feeling of the horcus tea’s effects was slow but inviting to the young man, who was still recovering from his last scuffle with the orcs. James rubbed at his torso, specifically at the spot where that orc’s club had hit him. His Carapace spell had absorbed most of the damage, possibly even saving his ribs. Still, James didn’t come out unscathed. Only after his adrenaline rush was over did he feel the after-effects of his brief fight in the clearing.

“Are you fit to fight?” Haggard asked, catching the young man’s attention. James looked up at Haggard, who was leaning against a vern tree.

“Probably,” James answered with a shrug. “I still don’t even know how to fight properly.” He added honestly, looking down at his sheathed short sword. “The only training I’ve gotten was from Harald, and even then, I only learned the bare minimum.”

“For now, the bare minimum will do,” Bjorn muttered, tapping his ax as he sat across from the young man.

James nodded at that, his eyes looking down at the crudely drawn plan traced on the dirt before him. “How many castings does everyone have?”

“I have three castings left for the day,” Bjorn said before he looked up at everyone else.

“Four,” Haggard answered before his eyes turned to James.

“I already used up my only one,” James revealed, scratching at his beard. “My Carapace spell is still active for the next couple of hours until it runs its course.”

“Then we should make it quick, especially since nightfall is soon approaching,” the dwarf commented. He stood up before he headed toward the camp’s palisade. James moved to follow Bjorn’s example, his eyes looking up at the partially clouded sky. It was slowly growing dimmer, the blue sky losing its bright color in favor of the orange hue of a nearing sunset.

“Yeah, running in a dark forest after we pull this off won’t be ideal,” James muttered to himself. He turned back to Haggard. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle yourself?” he asked, knowing that Haggard was going to be on his own once they entered the camp.

Haggard chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Believe me, James. I’m more capable than I let on.”

The older man headed off to follow the dwarf, leaving James to look down at the dirt ground where Bjorn had drawn their ‘tactical’ infiltration plan. Even when James was paying attention, he still had no damn idea what the crude tracings represented. Still, the young man knew the game plan, even if a buzzed dwarf explained it all.

‘It all boils down to a very simple goal. Free the prisoners and burn the camp to the damn ground.’

James hurried to meet up with the other two men by the palisade while also being careful enough not to be spotted by the orcs standing watch by their crudely crafted gate. He took the most care in not looking up for fear he would catch another glance at the dead, naked bodies of those who were unfortunate enough to be captured.

‘Bastards, all of them.’

The thought crossed in the young man’s mind, his anger almost overflowing. James shook that thought out of his mind, feeling Faust’s spirit burn up again. That was not his thought, at least, not entirely.

“Ugh,” James muttered, putting a hand to his head as he reached the two men.

“Are you alright, James?” Bjorn asked as he strapped a shield to his left.

“It’s fine,” James waved off.

‘Damnit, Faust. What the hell is happening?’ James called out to the spirit.

‘Sorry. I can’t control my emotions. I don’t know the memory that’s causing it, but it must be a strong one. We should hurry before we pass out like last time.’ Faust sounded as if he was struggling between blind anger and calmness, the two states of mind clashing and struggling in his voice.

“James, come on!” The dwarf’s hissing voice caught the young man’s attention, making James focus on the two men as they hurried along the wall.

‘Alright. I’ll try to hurry,’ James assured the spirit before he moved to follow Bjorn and Haggard. The trio only had to walk for a minute before they came across a shoddy part of the palisade, the crude craftsmanship of the orcs making it stand out like a sore thumb. Bjorn only had to kick at a certain spot on one log to make it come loose, forming an A-shaped entrance in the wall.

“We know where we’re all going, yes?” The dwarf asked, looking over at James and Haggard.

“I go to the northern part of the camp, make some noise, and burn a couple of tents,” Haggard answered.

Bjorn frowned at that. “It’s a bit more complicated than that… but I’ll take it as a yes. James?”

“We head to where the prisoners are being kept, free them, wait for Haggard’s distraction to work, and then we get the hell out while burning a couple of tents on the way.” James was obviously abridging the full plan, but it seemed to work for the dwarf.

“Good, then let’s get on our way.”

The three men slowly entered the camp one by one, with Bjorn being the ‘sacrificial lamb’, as he was the first to go through and look out for any orcs. Haggard was second, and soon, James himself entered the encampment of filth and degeneracy. While both Bjorn and Haggard seemed to have no problems entering, James’ first reaction at coming into the camp was to gag. The young man was already aware of the stench the place emitted outside the walls. Still, he had seriously underestimated how strong it really was.

“Agh,” James spat out, quickly covering his nose and mouth with a gloved hand.

Bjorn looked at James with a raised eyebrow. “If you think the smell is unbearable now, then you should probably stay behind.”

“I’m fine,” James responded, raising a dismissive hand as he examined their surroundings. The camp was as he expected, with shoddy tents and strange totems nearly everywhere he turned. There were still a couple of vern trees around, for obvious reasons. Still, James was surprised at how much of the forest’s influence was still around, with tall grass and shrubbery surrounding some tents and paths nearby.

“Which way, Bjorn?” James asked, turning back to the dwarf.

“I saw those two bumbling orcs take the two dolts to a large tent east of here. Should be their prison, I suppose,” Bjorn answered.

“Alright, do you know where you need to get to, Haggard?” James asked. He turned to see the older man heading north of the camp, his back turning to James and Bjorn.

“I will be fine, friend James,” Haggard called back, his hand waving dismissively as he walked.

“Just make sure you don’t get yourself killed. Or worse.” James shivered, resisting the urge to look up again.

“Let’s get going, James,” Bjorn’s voice caught his attention, making the young man turn to see the dwarf adjusting the shield on his left.

James nodded, his hand resting on his short sword's pommel. “Let’s get going.”