Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 34 - An evolving situation - Part One

 

Over the past two days, I had personally witnessed thousands of soldiers pass through the gateway of the recently acquired ruins of the riverside Settlement. Since founding the Settlement, dozens of notifications had informed me of attempts to found other Settlements across the third floor. Furthermore, fresh waves of notification appeared roughly every twelve hours.

 

The Asrusian military was pushing hard to conquer as much of the third floor of the Hurst Labyrinth as they could, and for the first time since founding Sanctuary, black notifications had begun appearing in my peripheral vision informing me of individual lives lost in the attempt. The aggressive expansion was coming at a cost in the soldiers’ lives, although none of them seemed afraid to make that sacrifice. Not openly anyway.

 

Michael, Douglas, Vick, George, Nicholas, Bert…The names began blending together in my mind and I found myself actively staring ahead in order to avoid reading more names. While I could disable the notifications entirely, I decided against it. Painfully aware of how hypocritical I was being, it felt like a betrayal to dispel their deaths from my sight entirely.

 

While the actions of the Asrusians were not directly my fault, I believed myself to be responsible regardless. At any point, I could bar them from attempting to found new Settlements, but I didn’t, I haven’t, and I won't.

 

Sacrifices…The actions and deaths of these soldiers were laying the foundation for the safety and prosperity of my…our…people.

 

History classes in high school had provided a romanticised sort of veneration for the Australian soldiers who died fighting overseas during the great world wars. But it hadn’t shied away from the horrors the great wars wrought on the civilian populations either. Murder, suicide, rape, torture…The collateral damage of war hadn’t changed much at all since the dark ages, only growing more efficient over time.

 

With this in mind, I held no illusions as to why the Asrusian soldiers were so desperate to see their countrymen sequestered away and hidden from the otherwise inevitable predations of war. Having been told the scale of forces arrayed against them outside of the Labyrinth, and although they would not admit it, how otherwise hopeless their position was, sacrifices, willing or otherwise, were now what would determine the future of their people.

 

Six days after having left Sanctuary, Ril recovered enough mana to open a portal and allow the six of us to return.

 

Sanctuary was more or less just as I had left it, only now seeming somewhat more peaceful. Wanting to relax and generally unwind after the events of the past couple of days, I made my way to the Grove and took a long bath.

 

I didn’t notice right away, but after an hour of soaking in the mana rich waters of the well, I realized that Hana and her sister were strangely absent.

 

Just as I was leaving the Grove in order to go looking for them, I felt a familiar nudge in my mind. Aware that this was most likely one of the Daemons trying to establish communications, I relaxed and lowered my mental defences enough to allow the connection.

 

<Overlord! I have the most important news!> The excited Daemon’s mental signature was unfamiliar to me, so I was not sure which of the one-horned Daemons I was in contact with. <I am Zix, my Overlord! I am tasked with protecting and learning the secrets of Peter, the Human apothecary.”

 

The introduction and otherwise unsolicited explanation was likely a result of having sensed my hesitation and confusion, so I let it slide. <What is the news Zix?> I asked somewhat hesitantly.

 

<A breakthrough! No, wait…TWO breakthroughs!> The Daemon’s positivity and energy were contagious.

 

I quickly began making my way towards the workshop set aside for the apothecary and his experiments. <What breakthroughs?>

 

<New Classes!> Zix replied excitedly. <Classes for combining raw ingredients into Elixirs and Potions!> She gave the impression that she was close to bouncing off the walls in excitement. <Using the new Advanced Class, Peter has concocted an Elixir to progress evolution while drastically reducing the addictive elements!!!>

 

The shock of what I had just been told caused me to nearly trip over my own feet. I had to awkwardly half-crash into a tree to stay standing. <You are certain?!> I demanded earnestly.

 

<As certain as possible Overlord!> The sincerity impressed through a connection made it clear that Zix was not deliberately exaggerating or massaging the truth.

 

Jogging the last of the way, I found Zix and Peter’s other apprentices all excitedly gathered outside of the workshop.

 

“Overlord!” Although wearing a heavy leather apron, Zix’s scaly arms and face were marred by what looked like soot and ash. “Peter is busy, but here!” The Daemon excitedly held out a large glass bottle filled with a faintly glowing cyan liquid, “This is the Evolution Elixir!” Zix all but forced the bottle into my hands before taking a step back and eagerly dividing her attention between the Elixir and myself.

 

“How much can I drink?” I asked somewhat breathlessly while raising the bottle so I could inspect the contents.

 

Zix’s smile extended from ear to ear in a wide toothy crescent, “All of it!”

 

“Are you certain? Have you tested it?” As much as I wanted to try it, I wanted to be somewhat certain it wasn’t going to begin a protracted spiral of devastating addiction.

 

“Yes, Overlord! We have all tested it, many times!” Zix insisted while nodding manically.

 

The other apprentices nodded eagerly in agreement.

 

“What’s in it?” The glow emanating from the bottle inserted the unwanted idea of radioactive isotopes in my imagination, and I was having a hard time dispelling it.

 

Zix furrowed her brow thoughtfully and closed her eyes, “Manastones, Grove water, silver oak root, copper sage, and licorice leaves,” she counted each off in turn on her clawed fingers before opening her eyes again and glancing back to the gathered apprentices for confirmation. “There is much preparation required for each dose, but we have been working very hard!” Zix insisted, earning determined nods from the other apprentices.

 

“How many level ten mana stones does this equate to?” I asked with mounting anticipation.

 

“The whole bottle?” Zix asked for clarification, a goading smile on her lipless face.

 

I nodded.

 

“Ten,” Zix replied slyly in an understated tone before becoming incredibly excited again, “It is the strongest batch we have been able to make so far!”

 

“We ran out of high-level sstoness,” a Serpent-Kin supplied apologetically.

 

“All I need to do is just drink it, right?” I uncorked the bottle and tried not to cry as the intense fumes burned my eyes and nose. I had never been a serious drinker but was almost certain this Elixir had a high proof alcohol base.

 

Zix nodded so animatedly that I was worried she would break her own neck.

 

Just about unable to smell anything but licorice, I pinched my nose, tilted my head back and pressed the mouth of the bottle to my lips. Feeling more frightened than I had in a long time, it took all my nerve to jerk the bottle upright and allow the burning oily liquid to pass over my tongue and flood down my throat without gagging.

 

Expecting the familiar rush of manic energy and the pervasive need for more that I had come to associate with consuming manastones, I was profoundly relieved to find those feelings were completely absent. The only real change I was feeling was the early signs of inebriation. This feeling only intensified as I continued downing the Elixir.

 

Feeling somewhat invincible and supremely confident, I tossed the empty bottle back to Zix, “I want more,” I demanded with a grin while doing my best to ignore my stomach’s roars of protest, “And something to eat!”

 

Zix and the apprentices were only too happy to comply, hurriedly dividing tasks amongst themselves before dashing off in all directions.

 

“AND LASH!” I roared after them before somewhat clumsily sitting myself down on the thick grass.

 

Zix returned first, her arms positively brimming with more of the bottles of glowing cyan Elixir.

 

In that short span of time, my metabolism had already kicked into high gear and begun processing the alcohol out of my bloodstream. While pulling the cork from a fresh bottle of Elixir I wondered if my Iron Gut Ability would make genuine drunkenness a profoundly fleeting experience. As I lifted the mouth of the bottle to my lips I realised the briefly diminished element of my mental faculties were rapidly returning with a vengeance, and I realised I had my answer.

 

The second bottle was nowhere near the same potency, and as a result made it far more tolerable to drink down in one go. Setting the bottle down in the grass, I waved off Zix's offer for another and waited in order to test if the addiction was truly gone.

 

One minute passed, and then another, and another after that. Still nothing.

 

“Hahaha!” a profound sense of relief washed over me as I realised another barrier to becoming stronger was removed from my path. While I had no desire for strength for its own sake, I had many who depended on me for their protection, and I refused to let them down.

 

By the time Lash arrived, a full spread of assorted foods had been arranged on a large woven mat.

 

“Tim!” Lash cried out happily, removing her helmet and tossing it to the ground as she leapt into my waiting arms and drove us both to the ground. Pressing her lips fiercely against mine, she suddenly recoiled, “Eurgh!” With an expression of disgust, Lash stuck out her tongue and tried wiping her lips with the back of her gauntlet to little apparent success.

 

I tried not to laugh at her extreme reaction but was finding it difficult with so much alcohol still impairing my judgement.

 

Lash noticed my smirk and curled her lips in a snarl, “Why smell?!” She demanded angrily, “Taste bad!”

 

“Acquired taste I guess,” I chuckled as I uncorked my fifth bottle.

 

“What’s that?!” Lash leaned closer for a moment and then snorted in disgust, “Foul!”

 

“Agreed,” I nodded, pinching my nose and gulping the cyan liquid down.

 

Lash just stared at me with confused incredulity, “Why drink?” She demanded exasperatedly.

 

“Because-” I paused as I felt a different tingling sensation settle into my bones. Staring down at my hand I found that the empty bottle looked slightly smaller than a couple of moments ago. “Did I just?…” I was struggling to muster the concentration necessary to read my own Status, so I looked to Zix who was hovering nearby.

 

Zix nodded excitedly, “Yes Overlord, you are growing!”

 

Lash stared blankly at the enthusiastic Daemon for a couple of moments before turning her attention back to me and then to the empty bottle in my hand. I saw the thought process working its way through her mind in real-time as Lash put the clues together on her own. Suddenly snatching up a bottle off the ground, Lash tore the cork out with her teeth, and after only a moment's hesitation upended the contents into her mouth.

 

Wincing as the burning liquid spilled over her tongue, Lash determinedly continued drinking, just as I had done, refusing to lower the bottle until it was completely empty. Dropping the empty bottle to the grass with an expression of mixed disgust and triumph, Lash opened her mouth to speak but seemed to decide against it. Wobbling on my lap, her armour clanked and clattered as Lash reached for another bottle.

 

“No! Wait!” Zix dashed forward and snatched the bottle away, “Mistress needs to absorb more of the first bottle before having more!” She warned anxiously, “Too much mana too quickly makes you mana-sick.”

 

Feeling mildly annoyed for not being warned sooner, I was about to give Zix a piece of my mind but she seemed to have anticipated the reaction.

 

“You will be fine, Overlord!” Zix hurriedly insisted, “You would need to drink thirty or more Elixirs of that strength! And we don’t have that many!”

 

Something about the maths seemed off, but I couldn’t quite figure it out off the top of my head. Besides the alcohol, Lash was becoming increasingly more distracting as she seemed to be outgrowing her armour.

 

Prioritising Lash’s safety over my concerns, I grabbed one of the nearest pieces of food and pressed it to her mouth, “You need to eat,” I insisted while turning my attention to unstrapping her armour.

 

Lash groggily accepted the half mangled loaf of bread and loosely took a bite before snickering and shaking her chest as I attempted to unstrap her breastplate before the next growth spurt had them digging into her flesh.

 

Lacking the dexterity and with Lash’s muscles already straining against the straps, I wedged my fingers in between the front of the breastplate and took a firm grip on the backplates before yanking them apart.

 

“Urrfff,” Lash groaned in relief, rolling her back and spilling chunks of bread down the front of her now ruined armour. Without warning, and with an alarmingly high level of coordination considering her inebriated state, Lash snatched up another bottle ripped the cork out and then pushed the bottle into my face, “Driiiink!” She demanded with a grin, “Beee biggerrrr!”

 

As much to get the Elixir away from Lash as indulging her request, I gulped it down as quickly as I could and then wrested the bottle from her.

 

Apparently quite pleased with herself, Lash grinned and then slumped forward before loosely draping her arms over my shoulders. Lash opened her mouth to speak but grew distracted and began working her jaw instead.

 

Deciding to end things before they got out of hand, I had Zix help me remove the rest of Lash’s armour by cutting the straps with her claws and then very carefully carried Lash over my shoulder and back to the Grove.

 

Stumbling awkwardly out of bed and heading for the stairs to the Grove I tried to remember how exactly I managed to climb the stairs.

 

*Thump*

 

Stifling a curse, I cast a withering glare at the topmost section of the doorway but lost most of my conviction when I realised that it was now almost on level with my chin. If the privacy curtain didn’t require me to duck my head there was a chance I might have dislocated my jaw or broken some teeth. Taking a full minute to assess the situation, my brain sluggishly determined that I was roughly fourteen inches taller than the last time I remembered ducking through the hide curtains, which in turn caused me to smack my head into the arch.

 

Sobered by the pain, I panicked for a moment until I heard the reassuring sound of Lash’s snoring. Stripped to her underclothes, Lash was covered in welts from where the straps of her armour had pressed hard into her flesh before either snapping under the strain or being removed by myself or Zix. I would have considered her underclothes too small as well if it didn’t manage to frame her figure so well. Although I supposed Lash might take a different view for comfort reasons.

 

Well and truly awake, I carefully made my way downstairs, stopping briefly in the storage room to collect some coins before heading down into Gric’s warren and pseudo prison.

 

Even without the evil spirit possessing it, the Tailor was still incredibly off-putting. Purchasing replacement underwear for myself, I decided to do the same for Lash but ran into a problem at the prospect of replacing her chest bindings. Technically, I didn't need to, she would get by just fine with her current length of softened hide. But thinking that way made me feel like a dick. The Tailor was capable of custom orders, so after buying a few changes in underwear, I made a round trip to deposit them in our room and bring the special gift I had prepared for Lash back downstairs to the Tailor.

 

Somewhat guesstimating the change in dimensions, I decided that it would probably be best to accommodate a number of incremental increases in overall size anyway and spent most of the coins from the storage room on them. I figured that since we were more than capable of producing our own fabric at this point that keeping the comparatively negligible level of coins we had in reserve was now somewhat pointless and better spent to be of use.

 

I was ambushed by Kestrel on my way back through the Grove and heading for the stairs.

 

“The Lord Regent wants to know when you plan on-” Kestrel cringed somewhat distastefully, “-claiming the first and second floors.” She took a deep breath to calm herself and held up a hand placatingly, “I know that the mating ritual is approaching, and I made sure to let the Lord Regent know how important it is, but taking those floors will help immensely not only with the relocations efforts but our logistical support structure as well.”

 

“I need time to think about it,” I replied sincerely, “Give me an hour.”

 

Kestrel nodded appreciatively before defaulting to her business-like manner again, “Grand Marshal Rivers…” Kestrel released a long-suffering sigh as she recognised my look of incomprehension, “Formerly Colonel Klive, wants to know if Gaile and Drake are working out. Governors that meet your approval are desperately needed in order to make the most of the southern swamplands.”

 

I briefly considered it and then nodded reluctantly, “I would prefer to know more about them and take my time to be sure, but they meet my minimum standards.” Neither officer was openly xenophobic, and during our brief journeying together, they had not only obeyed the letter of my demands but the spirit in which they were given. All told, I could do much worse. “If you are that desperate to fill the remaining positions, have Klive and the other governors already serving on the border interview or debate the placement of new candidates. Just make your Lord Regent and Klive aware that I will hold their choices against them if the candidates they choose are found wanting.”

 

Not in the least intimidated, Kestrel nodded and began taking notes. “Um, there is also the matter of mixed-species residency…”

 

Now that got my attention.

 

“This isn’t from Klive or the Lord Regent. So far as I know, neither of them have seriously brought this up for considerations just yet but-” Kestrel paused to take a few deep breaths, “There has been certain…fraternising between the locals of Sanctuary and soldiers deployed here on active duty…Some of this fraternising has apparently gotten quite serious…”

 

“Asrus has formal marriage ceremonies and laws? Yes?” I asked with a sigh, more than capable of understanding where this was going.

 

Kestrel nodded.

 

“Now that you are monsters, there is another layer to it,” I explained, “The Mate-Bond is part of your Status-” I blinked the Status screen away subconsciously, “-and most of your married citizens likely have the bond formalised in their stats already. Anyone with a mixed-species bond is welcome to stay in Sanctuary, and I would be sorely disappointed if they were not welcome within other Settlements under my banner.”

 

“So you would allow m-I mean, other species of monsters, to leave Sanctuary and live amongst us Humans?” Kestrel asked, diplomatically correcting herself partway through her question without skipping a beat.

 

“Until there is such a reason for me not to, yes,” I agreed conditionally, which at this point Kestrel honestly probably just assumed would be the case anyway. “However, this should not be considered a tactic for recruiting other species to bolster the garrison’s Synergies,” I warned sombrely.

 

Kestrel paused in her note-taking and waited for me to elaborate.

 

I sighed and splashed my face with some water from the well to refresh myself. “The bond is exactly that, it draws you closer together. It intensifies your feelings for the other person or persons you share it with…” I had come to realise this on my own, but I found I didn’t mind the trade-off. In a sense, knowing that the same applied to her as well as reassuring.

 

Kestrel cocked her head slightly to one side and raised an eyebrow inquisitively, “Is that true?” She asked quietly.

 

I nodded sombrely, “This has just been based on my own experiences and observations, but even Kirt and Rose, the couple who run the inn, seem…closer, more affectionate and in sync than when I first met them. Not to say they weren’t those things before, just that they now seem more so. Do you understand what I mean?”

 

Kestrel slowly nodded, “There are some married soldiers I have spoken to already that seemed…off, different from their usual selves. It’s actually something of a relief if this is the cause for it.”

 

“There is actually a little more to it as well, although I am uncertain if it only applies to those with the leadership titles or not.” I sat down on the edge of the well so I could better collect my thoughts for a moment.

 

Kestrel, ever curious, waited patiently, knowing I would only elaborate in my own time.

 

“There is something called Bloodlines,” I explained, “Once Mate-Bonded, it establishes a Bloodline that itself seems capable of making its own progression. The Bloodline appears to provide additional stats, but this is relatively early days, so I am unsure if there is going to be more to it or not. Although…” I smiled and chuckled, “I guess I will know more after the Mothers Moon…”

 

Kestrel just nodded, apparently somewhat desensitised to the implications at this point.

 

Thinking of children reminded me of something, “Who are the two unregistered children being escorted by Human soldiers around Sanctuary?” I hadn’t noticed them until returning from my last trip.

 

Recalling I had made an agreement with the Lord Regent to provide protection for someone important, I assumed they must be scions set to inherit powerful noble families. But that was only a guess.

 

Kestrel stiffened and rather than answering straight away, she seemed to be very carefully considering her next choice in words, “One of the children reportedly belongs to a former acquaintance of yours, she said you would know her as Jack?”

 

“Do you mean Jacque?” I asked curiously.

 

Kestrel’s cheeks flushed somewhat in embarrassment, “I think so. I have only seen it written, not heard it spoken aloud,” she apologised, “The woman was described as having red hair and a brusque manner?”

 

I nodded, “That’s Jacque. Although…I didn’t know she had a kid.” Then again, we had not exactly spent much time together either. It was fairly understandable that she didn’t feel the need to divulge everything to a stranger she had just met, except…She had admitted to being from Earth, arguably a far more dangerous secret than admitting to being a parent. That is unless she was worried I would harm her kid…But then why send them to me for protection?

 

I shook my head to try and focus on my original question, “And the other child?”

 

Kestrel stiffened again, “I…I am not allowed to volunteer that information…I’m sorry,” she apologized.

 

That answer in and of itself was rather telling, greatly reinforcing my earlier assumption of the child’s relation to a powerful noble house.

 

Perhaps wanting to avoid further questions, or maybe turn my attention to her superior's request, Kestrel hastily begged her to leave and promised to return in an hour.

 

Truthfully, I didn’t need the hour in order to think things over. I could avoid most, if not all, risks by delegating the magical spear Shiverfang to one of the Daemons and having them seize portals on my behalf. A quick review of the Daemons capabilities made it clear that one, in particular, would be well suited for the task. Assuming the Asrusians were going to handle the Footholds themselves, the Daemon would just need to initiate the seizure of the incoming portal to block the Guild’s route of escape. Once that was accomplished, the Asrusians would just need to found a Settlement to protect the Outgoing portal site while the Daemon seized control of the outgoing portal in order to establish control over the floor and partial control over external attempts to skip to the next floor of the labyrinth.

 

“Do you have an answer?” Kestrel asked patiently. She had waited longer than the requested hour, but not by much. It was a nice gesture but it was also obvious that it had caused her no small amount of stress. Given the events outside of Labyrinth, it was more than understandable.

 

I nodded sombrely, “Garn, he will go in my place.”

 

Kestrel seemed at a loss for a moment, “Garn is one of the Daemons?” She guessed hesitantly.

 

“He is, and a Scout as well,” I added.

 

“And…Garn? He will be able to seize the portals?” Kestrel asked with a hint of scepticism.

 

“He will,” I replied confidently, “And can leave for the second floor when you are ready.”

 

Kestrel seemed profoundly relieved, “I will let the Lord Regent know of the proposed changes.”

 

“I will need to have a short discussion with Garn first, but I will have him find you when we are finished.” Despite what I had said, I made my way upstairs to mine and Lash’s room first to deposit the changes in underwear. Finding Garn would be accomplished far more efficiently through communicating with his fraternal siblings than hunting him down myself.

 

After a short back and forth through a telepathic conversation with Gric, outlining my intentions and what I expected of Garn, I waited outside at the top of the stairs for Garn’s arrival.

 

Thus far, Garn was the only Daemon to pursue adaptations to allow flight. He had achieved this by consuming the monstrous bats on the fourth floor and emulating bat-like wings. Incredibly lithe and lean, Garn’s landing on the stairs was very nearly silent. “Overlord,” Garn chittered, subserviently and bowed low.

 

“Gric told you of your mission?” I asked warmly. The collective loyalty of the Daemons was endearing and tried not to take advantage of it without making an effort to show I appreciated it.

 

Gric bobbed his head eagerly and chittered his teeth again, “Yes, Overlord.”

 

I concentrated for a moment and felt a sudden but relatively minor loss in mana as Shiverfang materialised in my hand. “It is never to leave your possession. Is that understood?” I held the shaft of the spear out to Garn, “No one will be given my permission to take it from you. If someone tries, you have my permission to do whatever is necessary to keep it from them. But you are not expendable Garn, do you understand?”

 

Garn nodded soberly and graciously accepted the magical spear, “I will not let you down, Overlord.”

 

“Come home in one piece Garn,” I patted the gaunt Daemon’s furry shoulder reassuringly, “Good luck.”

 

Garn bowed low and then leapt off the stairs, his leathery wings catching the air and slowing his descent before rapidly beating his wings and ascending into the sky.

 

Even though I knew Garn was unlikely to be in any real danger, I still felt bad for sending him in my place. All the same, I hoped for the best and turned my attention to more productive matters.

 

The introduction of the Evolution Elixir changed things, presenting an opportunity to rapidly progress not just my own evolution, but that of others as well. Combining the use of the Elixir and aggressive competition against other Master Tier Classes would provide a significant and rapid degree of progress in both Evolution and Class progression.

 

With a plan taking shape in my mind, I spent the rest of the morning sitting on the edge of the stairs and waiting for Lash to wake up.

 

Explaining my inventions to the girls, Nadine was understandably reluctant to directly compete, and so was Emelia. They agreed to try some of the Elixir but made no promises about participating in daily mock battles. Toby tried to avoid joining in as well, but I made him a compromise instead. I needed more practice against conventional projectiles, so Toby would begin helping me with my afternoon training.

 

Clarice was all for it, although a little less enthusiastic when she learned that she would be repeatedly paired against Lash and not myself. While getting over my mental hangup on hitting women was something I would need to work on at some point, the need for Lash’s own progress served as a good enough reason to delay it for the time being.

 

Gric had been dutifully promoting residents of Sanctuary to Underlord and making sure they unlocked their Master Tier Leadership Classes as well. This meant there was no shortage of potential opponents to aggressively train against for the most Exp possible.

 

It was midday before Lash finally began to stir and stiffly rolled out of our bed and onto the floor. “Ow…” She hissed grumpily and tried staggering to her feet.

 

Hurrying back into our room, I helped Lash take a seat on the bed, “Are you alright? Is there any pain in your head?” Easily less than half my total mass, I wasn’t sure how bad the effects of the alcohol content of the Elixir had on her body.

 

Lash tiredly shook her head, “Stiff,” she grumbled and demonstrated by shakily opening and closing her hand.

 

“Probably a result of your growth spurt,” I reasoned reassuringly.

 

Lash blinked blankly at me for a few moments before recognition flashed in her eyes, “I grew,” she looked down at her hands and tightly clenched her fists while grinning like a madwoman.

 

“You did,” I agreed supportively, “That’s why your armour doesn’t fit anymore.”

 

Lash’s smile faded and was replaced with a look of regret, “Sacrifices…”

 

“We can always make you new armour, or adjust the old one,” I consoled her.

 

Lash sighed and nodded.

 

However, explaining my plans for spending what remained of the next three weeks leading up to the Mothers Moon quickly put a smile on her face.

 

“Really?” Lash asked eagerly, “Contests of strength? Showing everyone?”

 

I nodded and pulled her in for a hug, “We will show everyone how strong we are, and why we belong to each other, why our child will be the strongest.”

 

Lash shivered with excitement, “Yesssss,” she growled, baring her teeth and grinning savagely.

 

As I understood it, competitions similar to the one I was organising were commonplace amongst the Orcs for establishing a leadership structure and social status. As I was deemed otherwise unassailable, these competitions had been all but dropped. But by making the challenge myself, it changed everything. To challenge and lose was incredibly dishonourable, but to be challenged and meet the same fate was perfectly acceptable, maybe even an honourable act depending on the presumed difference in strength. What I had done was offer every male Orc in Sanctuary a chance at proving their mettle with nothing to lose for the attempt.

 

Word spread quickly through Sanctuary, and Qreet eagerly set about terraforming the training grounds into something reminiscent of a football stadium. While I only planned on fighting those with Master Tier Classes for largest Exp payouts, Lash had intentions of being far more open to challengers. The primary difference between us was that I was intending on fighting three or more opponents at the same time, while Lash would only fight one on one.

 

The same rules from the fourth floor would apply, but with the proclivity of iron armour and weapons, it was likely to be far more violent. While this would make it more dangerous for those participating, it would also give the Surgeons plenty of Exp of their own.

 

According to Zix, the apothecary’s workshop could produce batches equivalent to ten bottles of tier three Evolution Elixir every two days, and one tier ten Evolution Elixir once a week when the manastones were delivered. However, they lacked the means to store excess beyond a few dozen bottles of Elixir at a time.

 

Seeing only one real solution, I struck a deal with the Sunrock Goblin potters to provide storage vessels in exchange for some Evolution Elixirs for themselves. Rumours had already been spreading about the Elixirs, so it wasn’t difficult to convince them. Amending my law to allow an Evolution Elixir in place of the daily consumption of a manastone only served to increase the spread of the rumours. It also earned me yet another visit from Kestrel.

 

“What does it do?” Kestrel asked bluntly.

 

I chuckled and waved away the Orc smiths that were fitting me for a suit of adjustable armour, “The same as the manastones, only without the mana addiction. Although it seems to also be VERY alcoholic.”

 

Kestrel seemed shocked at first, and then bemusedly surprised, “Really?”

 

I nodded, “I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

 

“Wait…Have you been taking them?” Kestrel asked in surprise.

 

“I have been,” I confirmed.

 

“I thought you looked taller…” Kestrel mumbled.

 

“About a foot,” I agreed.

 

“Are they available for trade?” Kestrel asked hopefully.

 

I thought about it for a moment before nodding, “They could be…”

 

Kestrel adopted a more formal posture and braced herself, knowing from experience that I was liable to ask for something…excessive. ‘What do you want in exchange?”

 

“More apothecaries, knowledgeable ones, at least as much as Peter. A new Class has been discovered and it relies on the knowledge of chemical processes and herblore. You provide me with men and women who can be trusted, and I will provide an even share of what they produce,” I offered graciously.

 

Kestrel was surprised, “A new Class? One that makes consumable items?” it took her a moment to come to her senses, but when she did, she positively leapt at the opportunity, “Done!” There was likely no need to run it by her superiors since it was entirely dependent on them supplying the apothecaries in the first place.

 

Another thought occurred to me and I decided I might as well ask since Kestrel was already here, “I want a barrel maker to teach how to make them.”

 

“A cooper?” Kestrel asked, somewhat surprised by the finality of the request, “O-Okay! That’s doable.”

 

“And I don’t know if this is as viable, but a glassblower that wouldn’t mind teaching Desert Orcs how to blow glass would be good too,” I had no real idea what the world outside looked like, so they might import all their glassware for all I knew.

 

“Glassblowers?” Kestrel looked thoughtful, “That might be possible…” She didn’t sound incredibly optimistic. “Is there anything else? In case I-we can’t find any volunteers.”

 

“Well…Higher tier manastones make higher tier Elixirs. So, just the same as providing the labour, providing the manastones will earn you a half share, but both will earn a three-quarter share. I think that is more than fair,” I offered.

 

“I can agree to those terms,” Kestrel nodded eagerly but grew more reserved after a few moments as she quickly realised something, “We, uh, may not be able to provide so many high-level manastones now that the war has broken out and the Guilds are restricting sales.”

 

“These are the same Guilds that are turning traitor?” I questioned sardonically.

 

Kestrel made no reply.

 

“This is an open offer,” I reassured her, “And besides, I am sure your Regent is going to engage in aggressive asset seizures of the Guilds at some point or another.”

 

Kestrel’s eyebrows rose in surprise and she even smiled a little, “I’m sure you are right,” She agreed, “I will make sure to pass along the conditions of your offer and make sure your requests are given a high priority.” Kestrel bowed and began walking away while sending messages on her communicator.

 

With Kestrel gone, the smiths returned to going about the steps to fit me for an adjustable breastplate. It didn’t take long before they began making none too subtle inquiries of their own as to how they might acquire Evolution Elixirs. Even though they were making steady progress on a single manastone a day, it was obvious that this was still an important issue for them. At the moment, there was no particularly easy answer I could provide them. The Elixirs would need to enter production on an industrial scale in order for everyone to have ready access to them.

 

Then again, it probably wasn’t a great idea if everyone would become unproductive alcoholics…

 

*****

 

First Commander Gregorovitch surveyed the open countryside with suspicion and contempt. Since overrunning the Asrusian skirmishing forces in the northern pass, his forces had met with no resistance whatsoever. Not a single attempt had been made at slowing their advance.

 

Even though his superiors in the capitol might chastise him for his caution, Gregorovitch had been delaying dividing his forces out of concern for potential ambushes. It was the nature of things, but he had a responsibility to his men, and the battle slaves certainly were not cheap. Gregorovitch had experienced enough campaigns to know when something was too good to be true, and for the invasion to have made such progress was exactly that.

 

“First commander!” One of the advance scouts had returned. Taking a moment to catch his breath, the scout snapped a formal salute, “First Commander, the four nearby villages are empty!”

 

Gregorovitch frowned in annoyance. He had hoped to use the villagers to smoke out the enemy and disrupt their plans. Or at the least demoralise their men if he could not provoke the hotheads amongst them into action.

 

“There is more First Commander,” the scout continued, “The buildings and fields have all been burnt down and destroyed.”

 

“What?!” Gregorovitch snapped irritably, “Are the Special Recon Forces operating in this region?! I was told I would have full operational control! Somebody draft a missive for high command to demand what that shit is doing in MY warzone!” Gregorovitch was pissed. He had spent far too much influence to be allowed to lead the invasion of Asrus, and he was not going to share the glory with that young punk! The sale of the Slaves he was going to take on this campaign was meant to pay for his next bid at advancement in the parliament.

 

Throwing caution to the wind, Gregorovitch turned to his seconds, “Divide our forces and scour the region! Anyone not bearing our banner is to be considered hostile! Enslave those who submit, kill any who resist!” He snapped angrily.

 

Unwilling to earn his displeasure, each of the ten commanders peeled off ten thousand men and began marching in a different direction.

 

Left with thirty-thousand imperial soldiers and seventy thousand slave levies, Gregorovitch continued along the paved road to his original target.

 

Erast was the only town within striking distance of the northern pass. Little more than a border trading town, it would not put up much more than a token defence at most. In fact, Gregorovitch had been making overtures to the local merchants for months and was expecting them to open the gates in exchange for some small amount of riches. Of course, Gregorovitch would be sacking their rivals to make the payments, but he doubted the turncoats cared about that little detail.

 

As they continued marching through the day and reports continued returning with news of empty destroyed villages, Gregorovitch’s mood continued to sour.

 

“First Commander?” Gregorovitch’s aide, Petr grimly held out a transcribed report, “It’s a return message from high command, sir.”

 

Worried by his faithful aide’s grim expression, Gregorovitch snatched the report and quickly began reading its contents. Gregorovitch reread the message five more times before handing it back to Petr, “Burn it,” he growled darkly.

 

Petr obediently withdrew a tinderbox from his jacket and touched the manastone against the message. Smouldering for just a moment, the paper quickly caught alight and turned to embers and ash. Silently returning the tinderbox to his jacket, Petr awaited further instructions.

 

The message from high command had been blunt, and the intent painfully clear. Gregorovitch’s forces were indeed the only imperial forces currently deployed in the northern region. However, if he failed to produce results, then that would quickly change.

 

High command was already worried about a premature betrayal from the southern rabble, and looking weak would only serve to make it a reality.

 

“Have the drummers increase the pace!” Gregorovitch barked commandingly, “I want to be dining inside of Erast’s walls by sundown!”

 

As instructed, the drummers began increasing the marching speed of the army. Although their buffs were weak, the drummers made enough of a difference that Gregorovitch wasn’t too worried about the condition his men would be in once they arrived outside of Erest. With no sign of enemy forces, and half of his army scouring the countryside around them, Gregorovitch was growing to suspect that Asrus may have been facing more internal strife than the prospective turncoats amongst their nobility had been letting on.

 

Far from good news, it could very well spell ruin for Gregorovitch’s political aspirations and he was incensed.

 

Arriving outside of Erest’s northern gate in the early hours of the evening, Gregorovitch glared at the closed gates and irritably waited for them to open. Riding all day on horseback had done a number of his groin and thighs, and he was well and truly ready for a bath.

 

As time wore on and the evening sky grew darker, Gregorovitch lost his patience. “Tell those simpering fools to open the damned gate RIGHT NOW! If they resist, shoot them! Then break it down!”

 

Junior officers hurried to follow his commands, quickly joining the group of soldiers and other officers arguing animatedly with someone standing above the gate. Too far away to hear anything they were saying, Gregorovitch wished they would just hurry up and shoot the man already and be done with it.

 

Watching the archers line up and point their bows towards the man atop the gate, Gregorovitch snickered with contempt. The bastards should have stuck to the deal and been made wealthier men.

 

“Wine? First Commander?” Petr offered, holding out an intricately embroidered and inlaid wineskin.

 

Gregorovitch gratefully accepted the wine and took a long pull.

 

*Thrthrrrthrrrthrrr*

 

Hearing the familiar hum of bowstrings in the distance, Gregorovitch gulped down a mouthful of wine and gave a throaty laugh, “That will teach those…bas…tards…”

 

Cries of pain began ringing out from the direction of the gate, and to Gregorovitch’s horror, not one of the fifty or so men were left standing. He was just in time to see a multitude of figures duck down behind the battlements atop the wood and stone town wall.

 

The wineskin fell from Gregorovitch’s hand and spilled its contents onto the dirt. Positively trembling with rage, he could feel the veins protruding from his neck and forehead. “I want them all dead!” He seethed, “Make a fucking example of them! Do you hear me?! No Slaves! Just corpses!”

 

Gregorovitch’s senior staff immediately began issuing orders and within less than a minute the drummers were calling the men to action.

 

Gregorovitch had intended on keeping his word if the merchants had just opened the gates as they had agreed. But now? No fucking way! Not only did they renege on the already incredibly generous deal, but they also had the gall to then attack HIS men! And to make things worse, some of those officers had relatives in places that could give Gregorovitch all manner of headaches politically.

 

Seeing the gates open, Gregorovitch’s mouth twisted into a snarl, “Too little too late you fat fucking bastards!” He growled. “Have the Slaves secure the gate!” Gregorovitch commanded.

 

Obeying his command, a thousand slaves were sent rushing towards the gate. A combination of low-level monsters and humans in light armour and armed with spears, they would overwhelm forces half their size through dogged determination alone if necessary. It was the true advantage of using Slaves, they would obey the order to the letter and die doing it if necessary. The only troops he had seen do it better were the undead, but fielding large numbers of undead had its own logistical problems.

 

*Brooooot*

 

A horn call signalled that the gate had been taken just as Gregorovitch had known it would be.

 

“Occupy the town!” Gregorovitch ordered, “Teach them what it means to defy his most Holy Emperor!”

 

As one, Gregorovitch’s army lurched into motion and headed for the gate. Surrounded by his honour guard, Gregorovitch slowly trailed behind. In no hurry to be shot by a stray arrow, he was likewise unwilling to make himself a target by remaining behind.

 

Passing by his massacred junior officers and the soldiers that had accompanied them, Gregorovitch felt a fresh surge of rage. He was confident Petyr would remind him to have their bodies prepared for transport back to their families, so he indulged in his emotions perhaps more than he should have.

 

It wasn’t until passing through the gate that Gregorovitch realised something was very wrong. The air was full of shouting voices, but there was a near-complete absence of screams. Gregorovitch had participated in sacking no fewer than seven towns and cities, he was incredibly well versed on what to expect from the ambience, and this wasn’t it.

 

*Rrrrg-Clunk!*

 

Swivelling in the saddle, Gregorovitch looked back towards the now closed gates and felt a chill run down his spine. “It’s a trap!” He gasped and quickly took a deeper breath to begin issuing commands, “IT’S A TRAP!”