Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 41 - Cause for violence - Part One

 

Leaving the town behind and marching along the seemingly endless paved road, I was given plenty of time alone with my own thoughts and the dull ache in my head. Having already recovered from the damage sustained in seizing control over so many Slaves at once by self-medicating with willow bark, the arrival of Gerard and the personal Slaves taken from the enemy camp had ignited a cold fury that amplified the pain all over again.

 

If I was honest, truly honest, with myself, I had expected worse. However, that expectation had itself only been an abstract concept, and facing the reality was so much worse.

 

Battered, bruised, scarred and staring with hollow eyes, the Slaves freed from the enemy camp now huddled beneath blankets in the emptied supply wagons. They were painful to look at, but looking away only filled that void with shame.

 

Most of the former personal Slaves were human, mostly young women, but I had noticed a few young men as well. Three Elves, one female and two male, and a female Halfling I had originally mistaken for a short malnourished teen, kept to themselves, the only ones actively taking note of what was going on around them.

 

The personal Slaves were the only ones bound by Slave Collars, and for the most part, they were the only ones who continued to test my control. Given their higher state of awareness, and their former experiences in Enslavement, I didn’t blame them for it and did my best to avoid lashing out in reprisal for each prick of pain in my head.

 

What surprised me most of all was Ushu’s continued dormancy. There had been a very real chance that he would have been able to break my control if he had timed the attempt alongside my mass Enslavement of the enemy’s army of Slaves. As best I could figure, Ushu had been and was most likely still in a deep state of stasis-like sleep. Not that I was complaining.

 

While it worried me that the giant murder dino was left behind in the Mournbrent Labyrinth, the limitations of Gerard’s teleportation item and the distance we had been required to traverse, made leaving Ushu behind the only real option. Even after leaving Ushu behind, Gerard had still only been able to deliver himself, Fesk and myself to a village that he insisted was only a few days from our original destination.

 

Originally annoyed by the detour, I had since made my peace with it. Joining up with the Captain and his men had originally been intended so they could serve as our escort to the city of Laine. With the city projected to soon come under heavy siege, the Asrusians needed the city to be linked to Ril’s network of gateways if they wanted any real hope of holding the city.

 

Maintaining the advantage in Mournbrent’s internal siege was dependent on the Liche’s allies being kept at bay and the Asrusians at least maintaining relative parity in combat effectiveness to their enemies. With the Daemons protecting Lash and Sanctuary, Ril refusing to accept summons from anyone but myself, and my altogether unique position for countering the empire’s slave heavy forces, my direct involvement was the only real option for the time being. However, once the Asrusians had conducted a thorough inventory of their royal treasures, perhaps that would change.

 

With the very real possibility of the enemy army being close on their heels, the Captain elected to continue the march through the night.

 

With physical fatigue being minimised through a combination of Synergies, the mental fatigue accumulated from the monotonous travel was a far more pressing concern.

 

Marching until sometime past midnight, guards were set to keep watch for the enemy while the remaining soldiers made camp with limited assistance from the combat slaves. The sudden activity somewhat ironically brought the small army back to life as they shook off the accumulated mental fatigue.

 

I opted to spend my own time making crude modifications to the supply wagons so they would provide better protection from the elements and a measure of collective privacy.

 

I was pleasantly surprised when a pair of soldiers joined in and provided advice. Apparently having some degree of experience with jerry-rigging aid wagons for the wounded, they made nails and pegs from whittled branches and used simple hand drills to bore the necessary holes.

 

After erecting simple wooden frames and tying on canvas to provide a fabric shell, the pair of soldiers surprised me further when they began spending their redemption points on bedrolls. The pair of soldiers laid out the bedrolls in such a way that they overlapped one another and provided a measure of padding for the sides and bed of the wagon. Lastly, they set aside a few bedrolls per wagon to be used as pillows, cushions or blankets.

 

While the modifications were being made to the wagons, the combat slaves were given time to relieve themselves and wash with cold water.

 

Aware of the possibility of Variants amongst the Slaves, I tried to think of ways to identify them instead of just by their appearance and sex. The best I could come up with was issuing a command for those who had parents, past or present, to identify themselves. However, even then, some Variants would slip through the cracks because of the fact that they were created by the Labyrinths in place of the generic clones.

 

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that differentiating between the two was more akin to establishing an arbitrary line in sand. So long as the monster in question was capable of understanding the rule of law and willing to voluntarily obey those laws, then everything else was largely secondary.

 

However, it was clear that not all species of monster would be able to make that transition without an intermediate step in between to acclimate them to a more modern rule of law. In the Labyrinths, all the clones understood and experienced was the rule of the strong, where the most powerful or most dangerous ruled through fear and violence. That needed to change.

 

Even so, actively recruiting from the existing ‘wild’ populations of clones still seemed like it was asking for trouble. As is, rehabilitating and accepting so many freed slaves would introduce a whole mess of problems associated with the disproportionate ratio of men to women. Even accounting for interspecies coupling with the Asrusians, it wasn’t going to be enough to offset the sheer number of male Slaves being fielded by the enemy.

 

The Colonel’s proposal to the Regent was somewhat callous, but ultimately the only real workable solution. Citizenship through military service. Originally intended for the captured Thralls, the principle worked slightly better for captured Slaves.

 

At its most simple, the majority of male Slaves would be offered two choices, citizenship through military service, or peaceful resettlement on the designated floor of a Labyrinth assigned for that purpose. Slaves who chose resettlement would be free to form their own societies and live how they wished so long as they demonstrated no hostility towards the fortifications guarding the portals. Eventually, they would die of an injury, infighting, or old age, just as they would have done if they had not been Enslaved in the first place.

 

The Colonel had been rather lenient in suggesting only five years of military service. Professional Asrusian soldiers signed on for ten years at a time, earning additional pensions for each time they reenlisted. The Slaves who chose military service would also be entitled to the proportionate pension, but I doubted it would prove much of a motivation for the overwhelming majority of Slaves until they had experience with currency-based transactions.

 

Unfortunately, this all presented a rather unique problem. Controlling so many Slaves to ensure compliance during their adjustment period meant either mass production of Enslavement Collars, or trusted and honourable individuals deliberately taking the Slave taking Classes. Having only met a handful of people I would remotely consider trusting with that responsibility, it really didn’t help that I didn’t count myself amongst them.

 

As the saying goes, power corrupts, and I had yet to witness or experience a power so profound and pervasive as that provided by the Labyrinths' magically enforced Enslavement.

 

I continued rehashing, discarding and then revisiting the same arguments over and over again while marching to the city. Ultimately, the solution I arrived at would require the Slavers themselves to submit to Enslavement in order to enforce an acceptable and moral code of behaviour. Not wanting, or trusting, myself with the responsibility, I had decided that leaning into the skid might be the better solution.

 

Gric had proven himself an uncompromising and ruthless executor of the law, seemingly taking a great deal of personal fulfilment from exercising his authority to the fullest extent it allowed. What made the Daemon a viable option as a governing intermediary was that while Gric desired more authority and control, he made no attempts at securing through any other means than acknowledged merit from a superior. Given that I was Gric’s only official superior in the chain of command, he could be trusted to rebuff all external requests to abuse the Enslavement for personal gain.

 

After marching for almost two straight days across the hills, the road ahead began growing gradually steeper, winding up into a small mountain range. A sprawling city was built into the eastern slope of the smallest mountain and was divided by five huge walls. The largest of the walls was located at the base of the mountain and assuming my eyesight and sense of scale could be trusted, the gate was large enough that even Ushu could pass through with relative ease.

 

As close as the city appeared to have been, we did not reach the gates until the early morning of the fourth day after leaving the village.

 

Expecting to be hassled by the city guards or the soldiers stationed at the gates, I was surprised when the gates were opened in advance and that we were allowed to enter the lowest tier of the city uncontested. After passing through the gates, it didn’t take long to realise why. The entire lower section of the city was one big kill zone.

 

Completely devoid of all civilian structures, the road continued a winding path that doubled back on itself five times before reaching the next wall and gate. The lowest wall didn’t have any stairs to allow access, so I could only assume that there were tunnels in the mountain that the soldiers used in order to gain access to the top of the wall.

 

The Captain and his senior officers pushed ahead and were waiting alongside a Colonel and a handful of other Captains outside of the next gate.

 

Aware that they were most likely waiting for me specifically, I left Fesk and Shady behind to keep an eye on the wagons.

 

Without being asked, Gregory took it upon himself to accompany me. As the Regent’s official representative, he had every reason to do so. However, I was fairly certain that Gregory was secretly hoping for another opportunity to break rank and exercise his authority on another unsuspecting officer.

 

Choosing to ignore the nervous looks from the soldiers stationed on top of the wall, I directed my attention towards the Colonel and gathered officers.

 

The Colonel and officers saluted at our approach and then all but the Colonel himself stood at attention.

 

“Your Majesty! Allow me to introduce myself, I am Colonel Patrick. It is my pleasure to welcome you to Laine city! We have been eagerly anticipating your arrival and have accommodations prepared so you may recuperate from your journey,” the Colonel gushed eagerly, his well-trimmed moustache twitching like a rabbit’s whiskers, “If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask!”

 

I nodded noncommittally, “The Regent has told you why I am here?” I guessed.

 

The Colonel nodded cheerily, “Yes, your Majesty, the Lord Regent’s orders were quite clear that your mission is of the highest priority and that myself and those under my command are to provide you with the utmost support!” Despite his advanced age and use of a walking cane, the Colonel seemed positively brimming with energy and enthusiasm.

 

“Good,” I stated neutrally, “I had originally intended to borrow the use of a hundred or so of your men in order to secure the Labyrinth. However, as I have recently obtained an adequate force of my own, I will only require a cadre of Scouts for reconnaissance duties,” I then nodded towards Gerard, “The Regent’s representative will require a detachment of men to place the inhabitants of the Adventurers Guild headquarters and first floor foothold under arrest in order to maintain operational security.”

 

The Colonel’s eyebrows rose in surprise before furrowing maliciously, “As you command your Majesty!” He declared happily, “It will be our pleasure to see the disloyal blighters from the premises!” The Colonel turned to one of his Captains, “Captain Fenix, be a good man and see to it that the Lord Regent’s representative has enough men to carry out his duty!”

 

“Sir!” The Captain saluted and smiled with malicious anticipation as he motioned towards the open gate and then fell into step alongside Gerard.

 

Under any other circumstances, the creepy smiles on the officers' faces would have been considerably more off-putting. However, having spent enough time around the Asrusian military, I was quite familiar with their dislike of the Adventurers Guild, whom they considered just shy of being traitors to the realm. After factoring in my own experiences with the guild, I was not overly keen on them either and could appreciate the sentiment.

 

“I need a space for my men to recuperate from their march while the Guild is dealt with,” I added, “Assuming you have the space, I would prefer we weren’t separated.”

 

“Of course, Majesty!” The Colonel exclaimed happily, “Captain Samson made sure to make contact before your arrival and we have endeavoured to provide an adequate space for both yourself and your...er...host.” His cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment, “Unfortunately, the only structures we could make available on short notice are storage warehouses located a short distance from here in the third ring of the city. But! I can assure you that every measure has been taken to make the accommodations as comfortable as possible!”

 

It actually wasn’t a bad solution, all things considered. Expecting buildings to accommodate my size was unrealistic, and getting upset over it would be petty.

 

Accepting the Colonel’s generosity, I waited for the wagons and slaves to catch up before allowing te Colonel and his officers to lead the way to the warehouses.

 

True to his word, the warehouses weren’t that far away and were located alongside one another.

 

There were very few people out on the streets beside the squads of soldiers who appeared to be performing routine patrols.

 

Considering that the civilians of the city had not yet been evacuated, it was strange for what I assumed was the low-income area of the city to be so empty.

 

The warehouses were huge and even had enough clearance that I could stand without smacking my head on the rafters. The first warehouse had a couple of hundred cots laid out at even intervals across the floor and stacks of barrels and crates against the far wall. It looked incredibly similar to the homeless shelters or emergency disaster shelters I had seen in the United States depicted on T.V. With the additional amendment of a curtained off grate in the centre of the room that I could only assume was meant to serve as both toilet and shower facilities. Checking the second Warehouse revealed it was much the same, so I had the empire's former combat slaves choose their own sleeping arrangement from between the cots of the two warehouses and then moved on to the third.

 

A serious attempt had been made to convert a pair of low sided wagons into a large bed. Featuring an extremely large quilt amalgamated from a multitude of smaller quilts, and a feather pillow made from a half dozen regular-sized pillows, I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or find the method of upscaling amusing.

 

A huge makeshift table had been formed from the flatbed of a wagon on stilts, and the accompanying chair was made from four large crates formed into a square and lashed together tightly with rope. They were both covered with deep blue dyed canvas, and someone had even attempted some rudimentary tailoring to add some small gatherings of stitched flowers.

 

Unlike the other warehouses, this one also had a thoroughly nervous-looking chef, a half dozen of what I assumed were his apprentices, and three very large cast iron wood stoves.

 

Allowing the soldiers to take the draft beasts from the wagons, I dragged the wagons into the third warehouse so I could keep a better eye on the Slaves resting within. Twenty-three in all, the slaves wouldn’t take up much space, even after shifting in some of the cots to give them a more comfortable option.

 

I was pleasantly surprised to find not just Fesk helping move cots without being asked, but also the pair of soldiers who had made the conversions for the wagons.

 

“Beggin yer pardon, Majesty,” the older of the pair apologised, “But me an my brother’s gran’da were saved by a scaped slave, an’ we think it only right we pay back a bit o’what’s owed.”

 

The younger brother nodded determinedly, “S’right,” he agreed.

 

Both brothers were tall and had a build that could be best described as beefy. Built like lumberjacks, they both had thick but shortly cropped ginger beards and pale green eyes. The older brother had a large crooked nose, while the younger’s nose was somewhat smaller and flatter. Neither of them looked much older than twenty at the most, but their respective builds made it obvious that they were used to hard labour or had incredibly favourable genetics.

 

“You can stay,” I replied appreciatively, glad for the example of basic decency.

 

The brothers seemed surprised. After glancing at one another, they both awkwardly attempted a rough approximation of a bow and then returned to work.

 

“See, jus’ as da’ says,” the younger brother whispered not so quietly, “Do good’n good’ll get done.”

 

“Tha’s not what it means,” the older brother grumbled back argumentatively, apparently oblivious that I could hear him just as well as his sibling.

 

“Bobby and Billy,” I muttered after a brief moment of concentration, “Sounds about right.”

 

“Um, ah, excuse me?” A nervous voice quavered.

 

I turned around and looked down.

 

One of the chef’s apprentices was nervously cowering a half dozen feet away and doing his best to attempt some semblance of eye contact from behind the safety of his raised apron.

 

Glancing toward the stoves and seeing that the fires had been lit and the containers of raw ingredients had been opened, I could only assume the poor soul had been volunteered to ask me what I wanted for dinner. Most likely, he had the misplaced idea in his head that I would use the opportunity to select him, rather than a much more preferable sack of what looked like carrots.

 

“You want to know if I am ready to eat?” I stated rhetorically, “Yes, I am, and I would like a hearty stew made from whatever the chef would recommend.”

 

The chef’s apprentice sighed with profound relief before tensing up again, “And, uh, the quantity?...”

 

“Enough to feed three hundred and twenty-eight people,” I replied calmly.

 

Shady yowled hungrily from where he was sunning himself outside.

 

“And a bucket of meat for the large cat outside,” I added, figuring it would be better for Shady to eat food better suited to his dietary requirements.

 

The young chef’s apprentice looked shocked for a moment before shakily bowing and retreating to the array of stoves.

 

A short and very quiet argument ensued before the chef’s apprentice returned, “D-Did y-y-you s-say-” He stuttered fiercely, very nearly on the verge of tears.

 

“Yes,” I interrupted loudly, removing my helmet and fixing the chef with a baleful glare.

 

The chef’s apprentice retreated, and the chef himself hurriedly got to work, hissing orders under his breath to his other apprentices.

 

Opting to ignore the ensuing organised chaos of the improvised kitchen, I set about removing the rest of my armour and setting it all aside by the bed. While I wanted a quick washdown, the lack of immediate privacy made me think better of it for the time being.

 

Instead, I waited until Bobby and Billy had finished moving enough cots and offered the slaves in the wagons the opportunity to rest with a greater amount fo space and comfort.

 

The humans silently agreed, treating the offer as if it was a command and refusing to raise their eyes.

 

The Elves were far less accepting of the offer and the diminutive Halfling was nowhere to be seen.

 

The most confident of the three, or perhaps the bravest, stood protectively in front of the others. Badly scarred by burns on the right side of his head, face and neck, missing his right eye, ear and the hair on his right side, he glared defiantly up at me with his amber shaded left eye. “I won’t let you harm them,” he croaked hoarsely, his lips curling in anger and pain as he attempted to challenge my control.

 

“That was never my intention,” I replied honestly, “While I do expect those who are sufficiently able-bodied to perform a service, freedom through one means or another is what I offer in exchange.”

 

“You’re...lying!” The Elf hissed through clenched teeth, his burned lips pulling taught and giving him also a rictus grin as blood began dribbling from his nose.

 

Believing the Elf would kill himself if I didn’t intervene, I removed the command that otherwise prevented him from attempting to take steps to cause me harm.

 

Staggering the Elf clutched at the side of the wagon to steady himself. Then in a blur of motion, he leapt from the wagon and lunged towards my face with a sharpened piece of bone clutched in his left hand.

 

From the corner of my eye, I saw Fesk leap to his feet from outside the warehouse doors and draw a throwing knife from his belt.

 

Fully aware that I wasn’t fast enough to dodge out of the way or otherwise intercept the Elf’s attack, I gathered my mana Shadow Stepped four feet in a clockwise motion, interposing myself between Fesk’s knife and the Elf.

 

Watching the surprised elf sail past, and feeling the light impact of Fesk’s knife on my back, I took a half step back and planted my foot on the small blade to keep it out of reach for the Elf. “I told you, I have no intention of subjecting you to the same abuse you suffered at the hands of your former masters.”

 

Breathing hard, the one-eyed Elf glared hatefully back at me and very suddenly disappeared.

 

With every instinct in my brain screaming that danger was coming from above and that I needed to look up and face it, I instead closed my eyes and waited.

 

Less than a half-second later, I felt a flash of pain as something hard hit my left eye and then scraped down my cheek. It was shortly followed by a blunt blow to my right ear and left cheek.

 

Opening my eyes, I saw the one-eyed Elf landing on the ground in a ready combat stance and preparing to pounce. I uninvited Shady from my party.

 

The Elf’s eye widened in surprise as he leapt directly towards my waiting arms. However, overcoming his surprise, he twisted in the air with catlike grace delivering a kick to my chest and then used the momentum to propel himself out of reach.

 

“Fesk, don’t interfere,” I ordered, just in time for the Thrall to stop at my side with a sword drawn at the ready. “Stay with Shady,” I added more gently, making sure it wasn’t an order, but just a suggested action.

 

Fesk stared at the elf for a moment, then at me. Tilting his head slightly with an expression of curiosity, he sheathed his sword and slowly retreated.

 

The Elf had now turned his attention towards the makeshift kitchen and was making a dash for the chef’s knives.

 

“You aren’t allowed to harm them,” I commanded bluntly, causing the Elf to stagger slightly before regaining his footing. They had already been protected by other similar commands, but the contingency for allowing self-defence, and a particularly frightened chef’s apprentice wielding a deboning knife had provided a loophole.

 

Snatching up a cleaver and a filleting knife, the Elf snarled at the frightened humans before stalking back towards me with hatred in his one remaining eye. “Never...again!” He snarled, charging and ducking low to put himself at an uncomfortably low angle for potential retaliation.

 

Knowing neither of the blades was a Primitive or Heavy weapon, I knew that my own Racial Ability Synergies would not work in his favour. Somewhat ironically, he would have been better off sticking with his fists and the bone shiv.

 

“Enough...” I sighed and reinitiated the command preventing him from attempting to harm me.

 

Attempting to resist the command, the Elf staggered and collapsed to his knees as he attempted to keep hold of his pilfered knives. “Nnng-ARGH!” The elf screamed in fury and pain as he struggled to his feet.

 

“Fesk, knock him out before he kills himself...” I sighed defeatedly while reinviting Shady to the party.

 

A half-second later, Fesk materialised beside the Elf and laid him low with a solid blow to the head.

 

“Give the chef back his knives, I’ll see what can be done with the Elf,” I lifted the Elf and began walking towards one of the open cots.

 

“P-Please...no...” A soft trembling voice called out quietly from the wagon.

 

Shifting the one-eyed elf onto my shoulder, I looked back towards the wagon.

 

The female Elf was struggling and being held back by the remaining male. Despite the former having the build of a teen gymnast and the latter the build of an olympian swimmer, the female Elf was barely being held back.

 

“D-Don’t...I’ll d-do what y-you want...” She winced and began trying to lift her baggy tunic with trembling arms, “J-Just d-don’t..”

 

My stomach turned in revulsion as I realised what was happening, “STOP,” I commanded, “Just...stop.” I took a minute to clear my head. “I want you both to listen very carefully. I, do not, want, to, hurt, you. Why is that so hard to understand?”

 

The pair of Elves stared back at me with distrustful eyes.

 

Any faith in goodness and decency Bobby and Billy had brought back into my life swiftly evaporated.

 

Turning my back on them, I laid the unconscious Elf down in a free cot and then commandeered a cooking pan to begin boiling some water. After boiling some willow bark, I seriously considered whether it would be a good idea to reduce the Elf’s pain and risk him waking up sooner only to half kill himself by defying commands.

 

After an intense internal moral debate, I waited for the willow infused water to cool and then had Fesk slowly feed the Elf roughly a half a cup while not drowning him in the process.

 

Deciding to wait outside until the food was ready and get some distance from the Elves at the same time, I sat down in the sun beside Shady and absently scratched his head.

 

Despite distancing myself from them, I still couldn’t help but wonder if everything that had happened was because of how I looked, or because I was their Master. As best I could figure, it was almost definitely both.

 

Thoroughly depressed, I tried to take my mind off things by looking at the buildings up and down the street. Most of the other buildings were smaller warehouses, but there were a few residential buildings as well, although most of them looked much shabbier than those on the main road.

 

Close to an hour passed before I realised I wasn’t alone. Besides Shady, the small Halfling was hiding in the space between the jammed open door and the warehouse's outer wall. Sitting in the deepest shadows, her waist length raven black hair, and the muted tones of the cinched tunic serving as her dress, allowed her to almost completely disappear. If it weren’t for my ability to see through certain degrees of darkness, I probably wouldn’t have seen her at all.

 

Deciding it would probably be best not to antagonise or stress her out, I gave Shady a final scratch behind the ears and then got to my feet in preparation to leave. Not sure where exactly I would go, I figured I would just wander the nearby streets for an hour or so before returning and taking a nap.

 

“You don’t have to go...” The Halfling stated quietly, “Not if you don’t want to...”

 

“You aren’t afraid of me?” I asked bitterly, “Afraid of what I might do?”

 

The Halfling stared back at me with milky white eyes, “No...” She answered and shook her head, “You said you wouldn’t...”

 

“I could have been lying,” I challenged, hesitantly, unsure why exactly I wanted the one person who believed me to change their mind.

 

The halfing shook her head again, causing the loose tresses of her hair to fall over face, “You don’t sound like a liar...”

 

It took me a few moments to realise that she was very likely severely visually impaired, or possibly even blind. Worse still, the minor scarring I could make out on her eyelids meant it was almost definitely the result of deliberately inflicted injury. Someone had blinded her on purpose.

 

“Is that food really for us?...” She asked quietly while sniffing her small pointed nose in the air, causing her hair to fall back away from her face again.

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked back, “I thought you said I wasn't a liar?”

 

The halfling lowered her head and smiled faintly, “You never said the food was for us...” She replied honestly, “And you have fed us better than most already...”

 

It hurt to hear that and I needed a moment to process it.

 

“Ah...I upset you....I’m sorry...” She apologised.

 

“It’s fine,” I lied, “It’s fine...”

 

The halfling tilted her head like a bird and revealed a small goblin-like ear. “No...It isn’t...” She countered quietly, “But you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to...”

 

“It’s this place...” I admitted, “Every time I feel like I am getting a handle on things, that I can get over what I have done, what other people have done...A whole new mess of fucked up shit sweeps my legs out from underneath me and I begin drowning all over again...” I shook my head and laughed wryly at my fucked up metaphor and overdramatised problems. In the present company, it was like complaining about a cold to a terminal cancer patient.

 

“Drowning...” She murmured and nodded in approval, “Two choices...Stop swimming...struggling...suffering...and you drown...Or don’t...” She smiled faintly again.

 

A long silence passed between us.

 

“You want to know how I managed to hide...Aren’t you?...” The Halfling asked with a small smirk.

 

I actually hadn’t been, but that she brought it to my attention was just about all I could think about. “How did you find your hiding place?”

 

“Shadows are cooler...” She replied simply, motioning to the surrounding darkness with one hand.

 

She had a point. It wasn’t all that inconceivable that she had navigated her way to a hiding place through a sense of touch alone.

 

The halfling shifted on the spot slightly and looked towards Shady, “Can I pet your cat?...”

 

Taken off guard by the question, it took me a few moments to formulate an answer. “Ah, sure, if you want. I’m sure Shady won’t mind.”

 

“Shady...” The halfling silently got to her feet and walked over to Shady with what seemed like absolute confidence in her surroundings. “He is a Shadowcat, isn't he?”

 

I nodded before managing to catch myself, “Yes, he is,” I confirmed, “How did you know?”

 

“Hmm?...” She had begun gently rubbing Shady’s side, “It’s what the Identifier says...” The Halfling replied with a shrug.

 

“Wait a minute...You can read?” I asked with surprise.

 

She nodded and gently pushed back against Shady’s head as he nuzzled against her.

 

“How? I thought you were...well...blind...” I felt like a jackass for pressing the issue, but my curiosity got the better of me. It was just too bizarre to leave unanswered.

 

“After...” She shivered and closed her eyes, recoiling her face from something only she could see, “The Identifier is all I see...”

 

“The Status system works even if you lose your sight?” It was intended as a rhetorical question, but the halfling nodded all the same.

 

Mulling over the potential ramifications, I was actually glad for the minor shift in topics.

 

A while later, Fesk returned and briefly mimed eating before pointing back into the warehouse.

 

Unsure if he was asking permission to eat, or letting me know the food was ready, I opted to hedge my bet and nodded before turning to the halfling and realising I still didn’t know her name. Feeling too awkward to just ask her, I took a moment to retrieve her name from her Status instead. “Anette...huh...” I muttered, unused to a relatively human name being attributed to someone who was functionally still a monster.

 

“Yes?...” Anette asked curiously, apparently unperturbed that I knew her name without asking.

 

“Ah, it seems like the food is just about ready if you want to come inside and eat,” I deflected.

 

“Oh...” Anette fidgetted uncomfortably for a few moments and then nodded, “Okay...”

 

With Anette holding onto Shady’s fur while walking beside him, we reentered the warehouse and headed towards the makeshift table. After having Anette wait a couple of minutes while I made a much taller chair, I lifted her up and sat her down at the table.

 

While appearing somewhat nervous at first, Anette grew more confident after I walked in her crate seat by stacking more crates to either side of her, effectively creating a shadowy alcove for her to skulk in.

 

“Can I really eat this?...” Anette asked anxiously after the bowl of thick stew was placed in front of her.

 

“Of course,” I insisted, “Just make sure to blow on it so you don’t burn your mouth. Vegetables carry a lot of moisture, so they retain a lot of heat.”

 

Anette nodded and raised a spoonful of stew to her lips. Holding a regular sized spoon, it was difficult not to think of Anette as a child. At the same time, I was fairly certain that the absurd difference in scale between us made our belated breakfast look much more like a child's bizarre tea party.

 

At Anette’s request, I built a small fort around one of the cots, not that it was particularly necessary when Shady all but hid her from view anyway.

 

Emotionally exhausted, I laid down in my cot and debated whether it was worth the risk to Summon Lash so at least I wouldn’t have to fall asleep alone.

 

*****

 

When the Lord Regent had ordered him to serve as an escort for their benefactor, the Tyrant, Gregory had not anticipated he would be given free reign to raid the Adventurer’s Guild, but he had secretly hoped he could convince the Tyrant if given the opportunity. However, being handed a relatively open mandate to prosecute and incarcerate the guild was on a whole other level.

 

Commandeering a full five hundred soldiers, Gregory was not subtle.

 

Storming the guild building, they left no avenues for retreat and manacled anyone remotely associated with the guild that they encountered.

 

Trusting his instincts, Gregory opted for personally leading a strike force to the guild’s holding cells where they stored their Enslaved monsters. Knowing that the presence of any humanoid Slaves would only anger the Tyrant further, Gregory figured he would be able to leverage that anger into a wider scope of arrests.

 

While it did strike Gregory as odd that the Tyrant was so sentimental towards humans and weaker monsters, he was not above making the most of the opportunities it provided. After all, the kingdom would have collapsed if not for the Tyrant’s choice to intervene, so Gregory decided it would be best not to think too much about it.

 

Even if the worst of the rumours were true, and the Tyrant was actually hoarding a harem of young human women, it would be a small price to pay for saving so many lives.

 

Marching down a garishly opulent corridor, Gregory rounded on a large iron banded pair of doors that barred entry to the vaulted hall that housed the holding cells.

 

After testing the doors and confirming they were locked, Gregory gave the signal for the accompanying soldiers to break the wall down.

 

Knocking a stone bust to the ground, the soldiers used the wooden pedestal as an improvised battering ram and laid siege to the door.

 

Technically capable of using the Shadow Step Synergy provided by the Tyrant’s pet, Gregory opted for the safer route of ensuring he would have a backup. The guild had been known to store all manner of monsters in their holding room and were rumoured to host black market auctions. Just judging by the number of carriages that had been parked outside of the guild, Gregory was rather certain a number of the wealthier merchants and nobles of the city would be in attendance.

 

It was curious that the defences would be so lax if there was indeed a significant illegal event taking place, but Gregory figured that the guild’s defence might hinge upon appearing as much akin to ‘business as usual’ as possible in order to go undetected. Either that or the penny pinchers at the guild had gotten greedy or negligent.

 

With each strike against the doors, Gregory could hear cries of panic rising. He took it as a good sign that those in the room beyond were most likely trapped. So even if the guild officials and operatives had escaped, a good number of their customers likely hadn’t.

 

Sending some of his men for reinforcements, Gregory had the battering of the door halted until they returned. Just in case.

 

His instincts had begun warning him that something incredibly dangerous was on the other side of the door.

 

Shedding his cloak and drawing his shortsword with his left hand in order to keep his dominant hand free, Gregory signalled for the battering to continue.

 

With a final creaking groan, the leftmost door sagged inwards as the hooks and bar were torn from the splintering wood.

 

“Shields!” Gregory called suspiciously, perturbed by the lack of noise from the other side of the door.

 

Swordsmen moved to the front and raised their shields.

 

Motioning the first two ranks forwards, Gregory made sure to take cover off to the side of the door.

 

A handful of crossbow bolts impacted with the soldiers' shields and a few more went wide and clattered off the floor and walls.

 

Vindicated, Gregory glanced around the corner and found a ragged line of crossbowmen standing out in the middle of the hall hastily reloading while a fairly sizable gathering of the town's wealthy elite cowered by the wall and out of the potential line of fire.

 

“S-Stop right there!” One of the crossbowmen barked nervously, waving his reloaded crossbow towards the line of the wealthy and connected, “You take one more step and we will shoot them!”

 

A couple of the other crossbowmen nodded while nervously eyeing the soldiers and glancing towards those gathered against the wall.

 

Taking careful note of the fact that most of the crossbowmen wore the house colours of the town’s Baron, Gregory doubted the hostage situation was what it seemed. It was all too convenient. The ragged scraps of cloth obscuring their faces looked hastily improvised at best. Doubtless, someone had suggested the idea to stage their presence in this room as a result of being taken hostage, and the crossbowmen, almost certainly the escorts of a member of the Baron’s family, had been bribed or threatened in some way to provide the necessary cover to sell the lie. Either that or at least make the lie plausible enough to allow those who attended the auction sufficiently ambiguous wiggle room to escape serious consequences for their actions.

 

Gregory wasn’t Having any of it. Turning back to the Archers taking cover in the alcoves further back in the hall, he signalled for them to fire when ready. “Disperse!” Gregory barked.

 

“I-I alread-URK!” The spokesman of the crossbowmen caught an arrow to the throat as the shield wall parted and a volley of arrows mercilessly tore into him and his men.

 

“Advance!” Gregory barked, waving the shield wall forwards and then motioning to the waiting ranks of Swordsmen and Spearmen waiting further back down the corridor.

 

Warily peeking around the corner, Gregory glanced at the supposed reaction of the hostages. With many of them appearing quite smug and pleased with themselves, he only became more convinced that this had all been hastily staged. Unfortunately for them, Gregory knew something that they didn’t.

 

After deciding that there were no more crossbowmen or enemy combatants in hiding, just those hiding amongst the crowd, Gregory decided it was safe enough to enter the room.

 

Scanning the neatly arranged cages, they were more or less what he had expected, with one very important exception. While the majority of the cages contained low tier Beasts and humanoid monsters, the exception was what made all the difference in how Gregory was now allowed to execute his duties.

 

Suppressing a grin, Gregory almost barked in laughter as a guild official affecting an approximation of an expression of gratitude left the gathered crowd and slowly made his way towards him. “Thank you for your timely aid, good sir! Who knows what these ruffians might have done if it were not for your timely arrival and swift intervention!”

 

Gregory glanced towards the crowd and spotted a particularly smug and arrogant looking young man with more fat than good sense talking quietly with a pair of very nervous looking merchants.

 

“Uh, good sir?” The guild official swallowed nervously, “I believe it is understandable that we are all quite upset by these events, so if you would kindly ask your-”

 

“No,” Gregory replied bluntly, fighting hard not to smirk as the confident smugness of the portly noble wavered and his merchant companions grew all the more nervous.

 

“N-No?” The guild official stammered anxiously, his eyes darting to the blacked doorway and then back to Gregory.

 

“By the authority of the Lord Regent Francis Asrus, you are all under arrest under suspicion of treason,” Gregory declared loud enough to be sure everyone present would hear it. “You will surrender yourselves peacefully, or be taken by force.”

 

“B-But g-good sir!” The guild official stammered in a panic, “W-We are the vict-urk!” He staggered and fell to the floor as Gregory drove his fist into the weasley man’s left kidney.

 

The atmosphere in the room changed almost immediately. The wealthy and connected no longer seemed nearly as confident or smug, with one notable exception.

 

“Hey!” A painfully entitled voice demanded nasally, “Do you know who I am?” The portly noble demanded as he stepped forward from the crowd with thoroughly undeserving confidence, “Do you know who my father is?” He sneered with condescending glee, “Just one word from me and we will see who is the one being charged with treason,” he threatened arrogantly.

 

Reasonably certain he had confirmed the member of the Baron’s family, Gregory decided to indulge a more petty aspect of his nature, “No, I don’t believe I do know. Who are you supposed to be?”

 

The portly noble’s smile faltered for a moment before intensifying, likely as a result of the noble believing he had just secured the upper hand. “I am Ruphus Karaticus, heir to the barony of Laine!” He sneered domineeringly, “So if you kneel down right now and lick my boots and beg for forgiveness, I just might-”

 

“No,” Gregory replied flatly with a smile.

 

Ruphus’s face began to turn red, “Didn’t you hear me?! I said I am the son of the Baron!” He jabbed his pudgy ring encased finger into Gregory's chest, but was too weak to come close to compromising Gregory’s balance, “So you better start grovelling-”

 

*Tink*

“Or...or...” The portly noble blinked and stared at the bleeding stump where his finger had been a moment earlier. Shrieking like a pig, Ruphus staggered backwards and lost his balance, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground.

 

Gregory grinned and waved his shortsword mockingly, “You made that a little too easy,” he chuckled.

 

“Do you even-” Ruphus wheezed in a panic while clutching at his bleeding hand.

 

“Oh I very much am aware of my actions,” gregory admitted with a broad smile, “But I don’t think you quite understand just how much your actions have contributed towards dooming your House.”

 

Ruphus paled, but it was unclear whether it was out of shock, a genuine understanding of the situation, or as a result of the bleeding.

 

“Do you know what that is?” Gregory asked, making sure to point with his free hand and not his sword towards one of the cages.

 

Sweating profusely, Ruphus turned to the cage and blinked several times as watery tears began rolling down his cheeks and snot dripped from his nose, “It-It’s just a mongrel pup,” he stammered.

 

Gregory couldn’t help but bark in laughter and was somewhat ironically joined by a chorus of nervous barking laughter in return, including a quieter whimpering giggle from the cage in question. “That,” Gregory qualified, “Is all the proof I needed in order to justify executing everyone present. Your right to trial is forfeit as you are now all charged with high treason for breaking several inviolate laws of the kingdom.”

 

“We broke no laws...” The guild official protested weakly, “The Gnoll whelp was purchased legally...”

 

Gregory couldn’t help it and let out another barking laugh, and was again joined by a chorus of nervous barking laughter from the imprisoned Gnolls. “You just...Oh boy...Keep on digging that hole why don’t you? You just admitted to one count of high treason while failing to convince me you didn't commit another. Bravo, really well done!” Gregory applauded.

 

“B-B-But they’re just monsters!” Ruphus wailed incredulously as he truly began to panic, “Who cares about what we do with them?!”

 

Gregory’s eyes glittered with unreserved joy, “Oh, you have no idea how happy I am to have heard you say that in front of so many witnesses,” he purred dangerously, “Any chance you may have had to weasel out of this by appealing to his sentimental side is well and truly gone now.”

 

Ruphus and the guild official both seemed confused. After all, the Lord Regent was not exactly renowned for his sentimentality, few rulers were. At least by circles outside of their confidence at any rate.

 

“Shackle them all up, and make sure to gag the pig and bind the wound, I don’t want him spoiling before we have had the chance for a nice, long, chat,” Gregory ordered as he made his way towards the cages against the far wall.

 

“Y-You c-can’t d-do th-this!!!” Ruphus squealed in a panic while trying to back away from the approaching soldiers.

 

Unable to shake his smile, Gregory knelt down by an altogether excessively large cage and exchanged some redemption points for a small parcel of boiled sausages.

 

The small furry form of the shackled Gnoll cub stirred and giggled anxiously.

 

Tossing the pair of large sausages through the bars, Gregory did his best to not focus on how the poor thing flinched in fear.

 

After carefully sniffing the sausages, the Gnoll cub set upon them like a starving dog, which Gregory supposed it very likely was. The guild wasn’t exactly renowned for its compassion, so the monsters were fed enough not to impact their sale price and not much more besides.

 

Withdrawing a set of lockpicks from a pouch at his waist, Gregory turned his attention to the cage door’s lock. “You have been a great help,” he admitted thankfully, “So I think it’s only fair that I return the favour to getting you out of that cage filling your belly eh?”

 

The Gnoll cub made a muffled giggle through a mouthful of sausage.

 

Gregory grinned, “Yup, there is no way in hell the Tyrant won't see red after he hears about what they did to a cute little furball like you.” It was days like these that made all the nights sleeping in cold mud worthwhile.