Djkavan arrived early at the black horde. With cane in hand as if to not lose the custom, she strolled through the dirty village with her massive appearance. Her robes danced in the air to further accentuate the mysticism around her, the potent smell of breweries and medicine lingering on her skin. She seemed elegant although scary, a mature knowledge fluttering around the yellow eyes that adorned her beastly features. Compared to a common orc, however, the old shaman was terrifyingly human.

Her heavy steps were guided by her perfect sight, and the unmistakable aura that erupted from a single point in the village. There was no need to focus, it oozed from the most portentous hut in the community. That said, it was nothing more than a bundle of logs and split wood.

Ignoring the eyes of the curious hobs, the orc approached the little hut. A voice from inside told her to enter before she could even knock, but that was just to be expected. She turned the pommel with her fingers and slouched to go through the frame, then remained with her head lowered as she entered. As soon as Thom's aura hit her body, the shaman hurried to the front, then knelt in front of him. Her master didn't take long to rebuke her hurried actions.

"Djkavan... You're exaggerating."

"My tribe has sword fealty to you. That, of course, includes me. If you called for me then it must be a matter of sum importance, so I dare not be disrespectful." She replied as she shook her head. "I am also aware that my children serve your loyally, since they're grateful for what you've done for them. I cannot go against it and put my head on the block."

"I see... That's a more credible answer." Thom chuckled to himself. "But raise your head, please. The first time we met we talked as equals. It's weird now that we don't."

Djkavan didn't fight his words. She raised her head and sat on the floor in front of the black-haired man, then placed her cane on the floor. Thom was sitting on a simple wooden chair with a farming hoe by his side, his legs still dirty from working the land. It was noticeable that he had been working up until recently, and that he had only taken this place to talk to the orc. The hut was empty except for a table and that single chair, after all.

"Was there a specific reason you called for me?"

"Yes." Thom nodded as he closed his eyes for a second. "Suu and Erina are living in your territory, correct?"

"They've accommodated themselves quite nicely. They're of great help in the mines, so we are not complaining in the slightest. Miss Erina does know how to appreciate the art of the hunt as well, and both her dismantling and her cooking are excellent. She is a most needed asset at the moment." Djkavan spoke with sincerity. She seemed to hold the girl in high regard, but didn't talk much about Suu. Maybe because Suu's role had been more of conversation with the orc tribe and not of manual labor, but the shaman didn't seem to have many references about her.

"How do you think they fare?"

"The children see them as part of the tribe." The older woman showed a smile as she spoke, displaying her vicious fangs. "They don't hold anything but respect towards them since they haven't been able to win against the pair."

"Very well."

Thom acted high and mighty with a grave tone in his voice as he spoke to the shaman. Although his acting was impecable and he somehow even managed to inspire fear, he was nervous inside not to trip his words or say something improper. Truth was, he had called the woman for an entirely different reason. He just needed a way to introduce the conversation without shocking the wits out of the orc.

It was all thanks to his victory the past day that he had managed to subdue the four armies under his wing. No one was willing to follow a group of people that had been beaten to a pulp by a single man. Besides, many of the hobgoblins had begun to believe that Thom was an emissary of the gods since he displayed his ability to walk the skies. To his advantage, the horde had not seen the crystal girl do it before. If asked later, he could just say that he had taught her.

Since he had ascended as leader of the horde, Thom had been thinking more and more about their showdown with Miel. He was still thinking about having a verbal encounter with the general, and he was working his head around it.

After all, causing a big impression and establishing direct dialogue with Miel was the wisest thing to do. That was the conclusion he had reached, but Valta had also advised against unpreparedness. That they needed to prepare for things going south, she said, and that uniting the horde under his rule would be asserted. She wanted to know, between various things, how eager would the tribes be about participating in war if the situation called for it.

"I'll be direct, Djkavan."

"Yes."

"Would your people engage in battle if I ordered it?"

"... It is highly unlikely that all of them would. I do see some of them being rather excited by the idea of battle, however. They would serve you if you promise them an entertaining hunt."

"Like Djolk?"

"He would be most delighted by the idea. The kid's got not much but fight in him. His close brothers may also partake in something like that. If I'm honest, I could not guarantee over a hundred participants if such a thing were to happen. The hobgoblins, those creatures... Well, they'd be little more than trouble if they were to be used in battle. However, I'm sure they would all follow you. I'm speaking from the sight of an outsider, however. I have not spoken with any of the small ones before." The woman shook her head.

Thom took a moment to think as his hand glided above his lip. He was not planning on fighting Miel either way, but it was still a troubling situation that his army was lacking. They were not trained to fight and their weapons were extremely sparse.

"Lord Thom..." Djkavan frowned. "I advise against any interaction with humans outside of the forest. I have heard that these ones we are trying to establish contact with are especially dangerous. It seems... Insensitive to attempt a truce when we are not even in conflict. If you think this place is not safe, we can gradually move our settlements further north. Trying to achieve communion with humans is outreaching, in my opinion."

"I see."

She had a valid point. But still, it was a personal grudge of Thom's which impulsed him to try and resolve things with Miel. He would not dare say that, of course, but he was aware of his own intentions.

"I will talk to them regardless." He stood up. "We need resources and trading if we want to progress. No matter what the views of this plane's humanity is when it comes to the likes of your people. I'll make sure to let them know you are a great asset to their kingdom, and ensure your safety. Impersonal hatred cannot be so deeply engrained into the masses' brains that it bypasses negotiation. Don't you think so too, Djkavan?"

"... Yes. That... Should be the case."

"Then it's all well." Thom smiled. "I won't allow the trampling of this community. Leave it in my hands, I'll give y'all a life you can call life."

"Thank you very much." Djkavan stood up and bowed. "Then, if you allow me..."

"I would actually like to request something else of you." Thom stepped forward, closer to the orc. She hesitantly remained in her position, not being able to help the hint of fear in her eyes— unfounded fear.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"What... Else could I do for you?"

"It's about the hobs..." Thom swept his hair back. "Could I entrust the orcs to be enforcers in hob territory?"

"Enforcers...?"

"If someone is misbehaving, restrain them. I will give you a detailed list of what that entails if you accept the task. Of course, it won't be without compensation. I will direct an extra 10% of our resources to the orc village if you do this."

"Yes." Djkavan nodded slowly. "I will talk with my children."

"Thank you. You can go."

The orc turned on her spot and went out of the hut without saying more words. Thom didn't sit back. Hastened thoughts had been crossing his mind and now the direction he should take was becoming clearer and clearer. After a few seconds of standing in the middle of the hut with nothing but a hoe in hand, his intentions were decided. He shook off all doubt from his head, a man nearing the middle of his life shouldn't be full of useless thoughts like such. If he became lethargic and wait, he'd pay for it.

"It has to be tomorrow." He frowned. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

He dragged himself out and headed towards the field. He worked until night came by, and then his impatient feet guided him towards bed. Since morning would take longer as he waited, he quickly fell asleep waiting for the next day to begin. As he looked at Valta's sharp pale features by his side, his eyes became narrow, and he lost all consciousness. The fires of the village remained dancing in his chest as he dreamt calmly about nothing in particular.

•••

"So cold... Is this really Pontya?" A man whispered through a pair of chapped lips, his eyebrows trembling under his tin helmet. The mist that pushed out of his mouth seemed to exist just to confirm his distracted comment, to which the man a few meters away from him nodded. He had been trembling the entire morning as well, even when the sun was already above the hills. He could barely imagine what the night shift guards had to go through before.

A yawn came from above. It was one the gatemen up in the vigilance towers, who held onto the lever with a somnolent expression. He wouldn't be able to pull from the lever by accident, he thought. Such a thing would be a superhuman feat on its own. Perhaps if it was a man like Chamgue, he could believe a mistake like that.

"My kids have been acting up lately..." The tired man on the left rubbed his eyes. "They're in that hard age already. I swear I wasn't that troublesome in my young days."

"That's what ya say." The one on the right replied. "You never know. An old man like you wouldn't be able to remember it."

"Hm... Already in my thirties, is it." The guard scratched his beard with a hand. "Wouldn't it be great if I made it to seventy?"

"In your dreams." The other scoffed. "Are you a noble? A magician? It's a miracle we've managed to make it so far already with this stupid ass job. I won't regret it when I die ten or twenty years from now."

"Hey, hey... Don't say creepy shit like that. I'm only a year older than—"

"Ah!"

A worried scream cut their conversation short. The sound had come from above, from one of the gatemen up in the towers. He was leaning over the edge of the structure with his eyes wide open, and smoke pouring out of his mouth as his breath had hastened.

"What... What is it?!"

"I can't believe it!" The other gateman seemed to wake up from his stupor. "Did I fall asleep?! Man! It's my first time seeing a grand magician!"

"A grand...?!"

The guards turned around for their eyes to set upon whatever the guards had been seeing, only to find a dumbfounding scene. He looked at his partner with worried eyes, but the only reply was a worried shrug. "Are we sure that's a person...? I have never suffered from bad sight, but..."

"Tell someone to fetch the chief!"

In a few seconds, the strange view became even more real. From right above the forest, the image of a fur-coated person could be seen getting closer and closer. A red sliver of gas kept him floating as if acting like a platform to his sliding feet, a sheet of ice tainted crimson. How many times had they seen such a master, that possessed the ability to fly? Counted times had they presenced grand wizards fly out of the citadel with high-tier spells, but even such a thing indicated that the man flying towards them should not be trifled with.

Before long, the man descended down to the earth, scattering a terrifying amount of what the guards now recognized as aura. They gulped down.

The man pushed his hair back and stepped forward, letting go of a sigh that looked extremely gloomy in his serious face. Should they raise their weapons? Since the man hadn't attacked them from his former advantageous position, it would be weird if he did it now. However, the oppression they felt from his powerful presence could not be doubted. Like being tied in front of a sleeping beast, that was the feeling that lurked in their hearts in front of the coated stranger.

His bare feet stopped just ten meters away from the barricades, and pulled back his sleeves. His undercoat seemed to be guarding a sheathe in the shape of a scimitar, made out of simple leather. Besides such a crude sword, he didn't seem to be carrying any items with him that could cause any harm. Then again, a mage wouldn't need such a thing.

"Morning." He suddenly showed an unprompted smile. No mist came from his mouth as he spoke. "Lovely weather. It's hard to have this kind of chilly atmosphere so close to the coast, even in winter. You gentlemen seem rather uncomfortable, however."

"Huff..." The guard on the right put on a tight expression. "May I ask... What is the purpose of your visit?"

"I'm sorry?" The man suddenly acted offended. "Did the general not tell you before of my arrival? Hmph! How does a lowly guard dare not recognize the great archwizard Roarstid? I came all the way from Wenders, but you lot disrespect me?! Are you obligating this proud man to show you power that could level your land and make the skies tremble?!" As soon as he said that, Thom released a stream of aura into the ground that shattered the ground below his feet, almost tearing apart the barricades.

"Sir! I wouldn't dare!" The guard hurriedly replied while letting go of his pike. "Send someone over to bring Duke Miel! Don't be sitting around too long!"

"Sir, would you like to enter?" The other guard hastily asked while one of the gatemen went to fetch Miel.

"Oh, it's fine." The man suddenly began to speak in Wender, which was a little harder to understand for commoners like the guards, who had ever only learned Kuulkiam. "By the way, what was that about Miel being a Duke that you mentioned?"

"Hum..." The guard was taken aback. "You're asking about the dukedom, right...? Well, it's still in process, but the general should be appointed as duke of Goldblack soon enough."

"I see... I thought for a second he had already been crowned." The man stepped back. "Were you able to understand me right now?"

"Hm? Oh... Well, I might not have studied, sir, but I can understand Wender words that sound close enough to Kuulkiam. They are pretty similar, after all."

"Ah... Right."

After some minutes of uncomfortable silence, the levers for the gate were suddenly pulled from. The two doors opened and a metallic sound came from the inside, just barely discernible between the noises from the gates. As soon as the dust settled in, an armored man came out with his warhammer by the side. Chamgue, of course, strolled forward and directed his sight at the man who claimed to be a master. There was anger in those bloodshot eyes.

"Thom Arburson!!" He clenched his fists tightly. "You still live, you bastard?!"

"I could say the same about you!" Thom wryly smiled. "You're like an itch in the middle of a toe. Never goes away. Damn, they're annoying, ain't them?"

"Don't run your mouth!"

Bang!

Thom received a direct kick to the gut, which pushed him back only slightly. He accommodated his body and cleared his throat, then stood upright once more. "I'm glad to see you too."

"Chief, what's happening?!"

"Don't let this man in!" He pulled out his weapon. "I'll deal with him right now!"

"Sure." Thom smiled. "I'll play with you while Miel arrives."

"Where did you get that confidence?!"

Chamgue jumped forward and smashed at the ground, but it was a simply dodge for Thom. Quicker than a man can blink, the black-haired swordsman activated his [Flash Move II], quickly fading and appearing beside Chamgue. His feet cracked as his tendons broke, but that was unimportant to him. He pulled back his body as Chamgue observed in terror how his hammer hit against the earth.

"I can't dodge too much tho." Thom touched his leg. "Tone it down a little, yes?"

"Shut—"

Thom jumped and spun towards the other side of the man before he could get hit by the firebolt coming his way. "We're all just playin' you, you know?"

"Agh!" Chamgue stepped back and was about to shoot yet another firebolt, before he received a kick to the hand and ended up shooting his magic off into the sky. "You dare...!"

"Sixth Posture!" Thom quickly retrieved his scimitar without drawing it, hitting Chamgue's plate mail in the center. A ripple of energy broke through the metal and spread cracks like cobwebs throughout the armor, causing a sharp pain to spread to Chamgue's ribcage. He took a step back and let go of his weapon, forcing himself to breathe in deeply. Thom's right hand was extended into a semi-arch that put the sword in a perfect angle, with his right arm placed in a fist beside his hip. His legs were half a meter away from each other, one pointing north and the other to the west.

"Fang-Showing Lion." He whispered, returning his body to a standing position. He opened his mouth with fierce intent and spoke aloud for everyone to hear. "You've shamed yourself enough, Chamgue! I have said it before, so I'll say iy again! My intention is not to hurt anybody! Please return, and let me speak to Miel!"

The knight looked up, his pupils trembling with a scattered vision. Had he really been brought to the ground by that man?