Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 43 - Violence solves everything - Part One

 

The Conquest was completed without any surprises. The mandatory quest had awarded another chest of eggs. The chest itself was made of intertwined branches in a wicker style and the five eggs inside were nestled inside of what looked like dusty bundles of loose hair. The eggs themselves were pale off-white and each had vibrantly coloured speckles across their surface.

 

With how much the chest and its interior resembled a birds-nest, it came as less of a shock than it otherwise may have done. I was able to identify the Species of the eggs as belonging to a type of monster called a Harpy. Besides the general concept of being part bird and part human, I was unsure of what exactly the Harpies would look like, and how they would behave. So decided to see if Nadine could provide some clarification.

 

Nadine had been up since an hour or so before midnight in anticipation of treating the wounded, but she had also slept through the better part of the evening and appeared to still be relatively well-rested.

 

“Harpies?” Nadine asked warily, “You're sure?”

 

I nodded, and opened the chest, revealing the five eggs.

 

Nadine glanced at the eggs, then back to me, “Well...I don’t really know much about them besides the fact that they are allegedly able to nearly perfectly mimic voices. It’s supposedly how they lure prey into ambushes. Well, that and they have a penchant for collecting shiny objects,” she shrugged.

 

“So they are intelligent then?” I prompted.

 

“The same as a Goblin, or so I hear,” Nadine agreed with another shrug, “Harpies don’t spawn in any of the Asrus Labyrinths, so it is hard to be sure.”

 

“I guess we will be able to see for ourselves once they are adopted and hatch,” I mused somewhat distractedly as I remembered the urgency of establishing the Gateway.

 

*Tingling*

 

Ril appeared for all of a second, just long enough to quickly glance at her surroundings before disappearing. However, she rather abruptly appears again a few seconds later, only this time with Toofy at her side.

 

“That really is a winning combination of Ability synergy,” Nadine commented with approval, ‘If you weren't so paranoid, I bet the army would just love to Summon Ril to every city and have her connect them all through the Gateways.”

 

“It’s not paranoia,” I countered, “I just don’t want to risk her being stranded somewhere and taken advantage of.”

 

Ril gave me an appreciative and approving glance.

 

“Tim!” Toofy cried happily and threw herself against my right leg, hugging it tightly.

 

“Hi, Toofy. I missed you too,” I gently removed her from my leg and lifted her up for a hug. We had not been apart very long, but her conditionless appreciation for my presence was refreshing. “Have you been keeping Lash safe for me?”

 

“Mhm!” Toofy mumbled happily.

 

“Where are you going to put the Gateway?” Nadine asked curiously while making a point of scanning the open spaces of the Foothold.

 

I pointed to the opposite end of the foothold, “Somewhere over there. Every other Gateway has been positioned opposite of the portal exiting the Labyrinth or to the previous floor so guards have a better opportunity at maintaining some semblance of order,” I explained.

 

“I see, so you can’t just run through one and then straight through the other,” Nadine agreed approvingly.

 

I nodded, “The army will most likely expand the Foothold into a fortress of some kind anyway, but in the meantime, it’s a basic level of added security.

 

After moving our conversation to the location in question, Toofy deposited a large cast iron gate and I did my best to anchor it in place with the accompanying hooked stakes. Toofy then provided Ril with her large cauldron of water while I erected a crude tent to keep them shielded from view and provide shade from the sun.

 

Besides a visit from a very nervous squad of soldiers and their grizzled Sergeant, the rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Despite the natural resources provided by the defeated monsters, the city of Laine didn’t have enough of the required resources to begin fortifying the Foothold. Or, more accurately, didn’t want to deplete their reserves with the siege of the city just about set to begin in earnest.

 

With no trees to speak of, and the wood scavenged from the fallen monster’s remains ill-suited for burning, the first floor didn’t seem as valuable as anything besides a military staging point. With that in mind, it wasn’t all that surprising that the local branch of the military was content to wait until more resources were made available before fortifying it.

 

It was now our third day in the Laine Labyrinth. I was beginning to grow concerned that I still hadn’t received a notification from Rikit beginning the conquest of the third-floor Foothold. Rather than wait and find out what the problem might be, I decided to Summon Rikit and ask her what was wrong instead.

 

*Tingling*

 

Immediately crouching low and anxiously scanning her surroundings, Rikit’s behaviour was not exactly reassuring.

 

“Rikit, what’s going on?” I demanded, injecting just enough authority to seize her attention.

 

“Tyrant?” Rikit seemed momentarily confused before figuratively and literally shaking it off, “Humans ambush us!” She snarled, “Use Gnolls for Slaves! Rikit take pack, hide, stalk them!”

 

“Humans? Were they Asrusian?” I asked before realising Rikit’s generalisation had probably been deliberate. “Were they soldiers? Wearing the same clothes and armour?”

 

Rikit shook her head uncertainly and used the claw of her forefinger to draw a crude depiction of what looked like a side on profile of a boar’s head. “Not same, not different, all have this,” Rikit insisted and pointed to her drawing.

 

“Probably mercenaries,” Nadine chimed in, “They could also be a group of high-level adventurers. Using matching insignia is more common at the high levels.”

 

“Not strong, is weak,” Rikit growled irritably, “Weak but many.”

 

“How many?” Nadine and I asked near simultaneously.

 

Rikit shifted uncomfortably and scratched her head, “Large tribe,” she suggested.

 

“So probably a few hundred,” I reasoned aloud, “Are they Enslaving anyone else besides the Gnolls?”

 

Rikit shook her head, “No. Merseries-” She grimaced while trying to pronounce the unfamiliar word, “-take many males, more every moon.”

 

“They’re Enslaving the wild ones as well,” Nadine interjected with concern, “That’s what you are saying, right?”

 

Rikit nodded, “Many wild males, slaves now.”

 

“How many have they Enslaved?” I asked hesitantly, afraid I already knew the answer.

 

Rikit looked me straight in the eye, a profound gesture given the great lengths she usually made in avoiding eye contact with me under normal circumstances, “Many tribes,” Rikit replied with a snarl, exposing her large teeth and growling in anger.

 

It was one of the curiosities of Gnoll culture. Even though a female would lead in the role of a Matriarch with supreme authority, the males were judged on their suitability as a mate and not whether they were ‘hatched’ or ‘spawned'. The downside, of course, was that the males were driven to ever more extreme lengths to prove themselves against a much greater number of rivals.

 

“We will rescue them,” I stated calmly while trying to think of how I would accomplish the deed, “Is the arrival point safe?”

 

Rikit shook her head, “Not safe, ambush, traps.”

 

“What kind of traps? I asked critically, “Nets? Pits?”

 

Rikit shook her head and snorted derisively, “Den is trap. Way out, blocked. Merseries ambush from high places.”

 

“And they use bows and arrows?” I asked warily.

 

Rikit nodded.

 

“If I sprung the trap on purpose, could your pack take out the ambushers?” I wasn’t particularly comfortable with using myself as bait and a distraction, but the alternatives were just as unpalatable.

 

Rikit looked surprised, “Tyrant not being endangered,” she protested.

 

“Could your pack do it?” I repeated.

 

Still looking profoundly uncomfortable, Rikit nodded.

 

“I will give your pack time to move into position and Summon you again when I am ready to trigger the trap,” I warned her, “Be safe Rikit.” The mana of sustaining her projection depleted before Rikit had a chance to reply. I had not anticipated the need for such a lengthy conversation, but spending more mana now would be a waste.

 

“You’re really going to walk straight into an ambush?” Nadine demanded incredulously.

 

“Barring any real alternatives, yes,” I countered while stretching my back and shoulders, “So long as I have my armour, the danger is minimal.”

 

Nadine furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?!” She demanded incredulously.

 

I nodded, “Something similar,” I admitted.

 

“Tim, I know you like to think you are invincible, but... If any of these mercs are of a high level...It won’t matter how much armour you are wearing, or how thick it is!” Nadine warned.

 

“I know,” I replied soberly, “Which is why I don’t plan on making it easy for them, or to go alone,” I pointed to Mortax who was snoring loudly from his sleeping place beneath a crude vastly insufficient shelter for his bulk and overall size. “I am taking Mortax with me.”

 

The Aurochian was almost as tough as I was. So, assuming I could scrounge up a helmet, or at least a visor to protect his eyes, we would be in a roughly equal degree of danger. Or to put things in a slightly less sociopathic context, the danger would be split evenly between the two of us.

 

Raiding the abandoned armour store, I found it a little disheartening that so many helmets had been left on the racks and shelves. As if driven to be the star in their own action movie, just about every helmet that would in any way obstruct someone's face or field of view was abandoned. Some of them had even gone so far as to snap, bend or otherwise remove the visors and had left them on the floor.

 

On the upside, this left a wide selection of pre-removed visors to choose from. Since my primary concern was arrows and other projectiles, I decided on a pin marked band of steel. After testing to make sure that I could see through it with few difficulties, I flattened it out further so it would better fit Mortax’s face and then tied a length of cord around either end.

 

It wasn’t until I was just about finished that I realised I had overlooked another glaring weakness. Mortax had no protection for his groyne beyond his foul, badly stained, loincloth. In no way inclined to donate my own magical protective armour, I was somewhat inspired to provide something similar, if mundane.

 

Sacrificing a canvas tarp for raw materials, I hurriedly crafted a serviceable loincloth for Mortax and repurposed a number of discarded visors and a length of rope to make something approximating an armoured skirt. By no means the best possible protection that could be accomplished by the concept, I still thought it wasn’t bad for a rushed effort with recycled materials.

 

The look of pure dumbfounded surprise and joy on Mortax’s face when I presented him with the loincloth was downright depressing. To be so overjoyed at such a simple gift, and to so thoroughly believe he was undeserving of it, it really caused me to wonder how the gang had treated him in order to become this way.

 

The armoured skirt barely covered halfway down Mortax’s thighs, but it was the best I could do in such limited circumstances. If he proved loyal and worth the investment, I would have the Orcs of Sanctuary make him some armour after the Gateway was established.

 

“Nadine, I am going to leave Fesk and the others with you,” I explained while fitting Mortax with a crude poncho and tying it off with rope to prevent it from billowing about in combat. With any luck, it would help staunch any bleeding if he was badly injured.

 

“So let me get this straight,” Nadine stated crossly, “You are walking into an ambush, on purpose, with the intention of deliberately drawing the attention of enemy archers, and you are choosing to not take a Surgeon? Did I get that right?” She demanded.

 

“Thanks for the reminder,” I muttered and pulled off the door to the weapon store and began tying a length of rope to try and make a serviceable pair of hoops, “Almost forgot to make shields.”

 

“Tim, this is serious!” Nadine insisted, “What would Lash think if she knew you were doing this? This is reckless and you know it!”

 

“You're right!” I snapped irritably, catching Nadine unawares and causing her to backpedal a few steps in fright. “This is reckless, but it’s also the method least likely to cause otherwise avoidable deaths of those I am responsible for! I don’t want to fight, Nadine! I truly don’t. If left completely to my own devices, I would be with Lash in Sanctuary right now! But life isn’t so simple, and I am being pushed to do things I never would have thought myself capable of...I have killed people...and while that may not mean much to you, it means everything to me...The only conceivable way I can justify it to myself is because I am doing what is necessary to protect MY people. I can’t sustain that justification if I am not willing to place myself in the same danger I send others into or are sent into on my behalf, do you understand?”

 

Nadine stared at me for a handful of moments before looking away and nodding her head.

 

“Thank you,” I sighed tiredly, “Now, Fesk already has his orders, and the Slaves all have Commands to obey your requests. Obviously, keeping an eye on Ril and Toofy is the highest priority right now, but if you think you can continue your lessons, then feel free to do so.” I pretended not to notice that Nadine was remaining silent and continued my side of the conversation as I repurposed another door into a shield.

 

Loaning Mortax one of my maces, I did my best to show him how to carry the shield and use it to protect his head in particular.

 

“I’ll be back soon,” I promised Toofy, “I just need to help Rikit and then I will be right back, okay?”

 

Toofy glared up at me for a short while before softening her expression and nodding, “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly and gave me a tight hug, “Come back to Toofy soon!”

 

“As soon as I can,” I agreed and gave her a relatively tight hug in return.

 

After our hug, Toofy turned on Mortax, her stern expression from earlier returning with a vengeance, “Tim comes back to Toofy, or Toofy eat you!” She threatened, her dark eyes glinting with the promise of violence.

 

Despite being close to four times Toofy’s height, and twenty times her weight, Mortax looked positively terrified, “Mrh, Mortax do this! Mrh!” He promised fearfully while awkwardly backing away from the goblin.

 

As Mortax and myself made our way towards the exit portal, we found the scarred Elf waiting for us. Clearly, one of the few Slaves to take his personal safety seriously, the Elf was wearing boiled leather armour in addition to a more minimalist suit of padded armour that afforded a greater range of movement, and a visored helmet.

 

“I want to go with you,” the scarred Elf insisted while on bent knee and staring determinedly at my feet.

 

He had fought during both massed waves under the pretence of proving himself, and I had been impressed by his commitment despite his relative ineffectiveness in most engagements. Not that it was his fault. The scarred Elf’s compromised depth perception made slinging stones an endeavour that was just begging for friendly fire in the close-quarters fighting, and his nimbleness and speed were wasted on such durable opponents.

 

His sword had broken sometime during the midnight wave, and whether it was deliberate or not, he had managed to unlock the Pugilist Basic Class when resorting to using his hands and fists to defend himself. Punching solid stone would normally have been an incredibly stupid idea, but while under the effects of both mine and the Orcs respective Synergies, bare-knuckle brawling the golems had been a relatively viable alternative.

 

Of course, this had also resulted in the Elf needing healing after the fighting was over with, but that was to be expected.

 

Considering the scarred Elf’s request, I pointed back towards the armour store, “You will need a shield,” I replied as a tacit acceptance of his request, “As big a shield as you can carry. We are walking into an ambush after all.”

 

The scarred Elf almost seemed surprised, but he nodded determinedly and ran off towards the armour store to find a shield.

 

I already knew that there wasn’t much of a selection to choose from. Most of the larger and better made shields had been taken already. But I figured that so long as he stuck close to myself and Mortax, or kept as far from us as possible, that he would be relatively safe regardless of his own shield’s size.

 

Sure enough, the scarred Elf returned with a rather dejected look in his eyes, carrying a small steel buckler barely bigger than his hand.

 

“You can probably ‘borrow’ one on our way through,” I chuckled in amusement and then motioned for the three of us to leave through the portal.

 

Making a brief stop to retrieve the necessary tokens for the third floor, I sent a soldier to fetch Gregory so I could explain what was going on.

 

“Majesty, I beg you, please reconsider...” Gregory pleaded, “The mercenaries should not be underestimated!”

 

“Do you have any information on them?” I asked, still willing to accept any advice he had to offer.

 

“The problem, Majesty, is that a boar's head emblem is not altogether uncommon. It could belong to any number of different mercenary bands, and the respective levels of their members vary wildly,” Gregory explained, “Let me retask the elite soldiers in the city to serve as your escort,” he insisted.

 

I shook my head and stared Gregory down, “They effectively have an army of hostages, and even if I didn’t care about the wild monsters they have Enslaved, they have the remnants of the Ashfur tribe Enslaved as well. I am not going to pick an open fight, Gregory. I want to assist Rikit in infiltrating their camp and taking out the Slavers. But I am not stupid either, the Foothold needs to be clear in case things go wrong. The fact that Rikit hadn’t managed to clear the Foothold with her pack, tells me that they have entrenched positions. So she needs a distraction. It’s precisely because we don’t know how strong they are that I am going. If one of your Human soldiers was tough enough to take my place, I would reconsider, but without my Abilities, I sincerely doubt such an individual will exist in the near future. Do you understand?”

 

Gregory recoiled slightly and reluctantly nodded in agreement, “But you could take others with you,” he insisted, looking pointedly at the scarred Elf as an example of someone who wasn’t meeting my standards of Toughness.

 

“I might need a scout, or someone to infiltrate the enemy camp,” I hedged, having already tried to think of a few different scenarios of what to expect.

 

“I can get you a whole team!” Gregory pushed insistently, “The best in the city!”

 

“Fine,” I relented, “Just make sure they all bring shields.”

 

Gregory seemed to relax ever so slightly, “Thank you, Majesty. I will see to it at once.” He bowed respectfully and then all but ran from the portal chamber while furiously manipulating his communicator.

 

The existence of the communicators was a possible complication that I didn’t really have a solution for. If the mercenaries had communicators, and the ambushers were able to give a coherent warning to their main force, things would become increasingly more complicated.

 

Then again, if their code could be broken, and one of their communicators was acquired, it would be possible to sow some chaos in the enemy ranks. Either that, or learn more about their intentions.

 

The amassing of Slaves seemed like a blatant attempt to ‘backdoor’ the city, but without sufficient tokens, or some means of mass teleportation, they would need to fight their way clear through to the first floor. Their seeming absence from the first floor suggested that if this was their plan, that they had not moved on to its final stages just yet.

 

While Gregory put together the team of scouts, the scarred Elf, went hunting for a shield he could ‘borrow’.

 

It was growing irritating referring to him as ‘the scarred Elf while organising my thoughts, but his former masters had a cruel sense of humour. They had literally altered his name to Candle. No doubt as an attempt to degrade him further by constantly reminding him of his burnt flesh, it was decidedly more intolerable than my alternative.

 

My initial dislike of the Elf had made it easy to ignore the issue, but the risk it represented in the coming operation made my continued apathy intolerable.

 

“What is your name?” I demanded bluntly once the Elf returned with his ‘borrowed’ shield.

 

Even with the majority of his face covered by his helmet, the Elf seemed visibly reluctant to answer, “Can’t you read?” He replied evasively.

 

“I can,” I replied flatly, “And I doubt that what’s written on your stats is your actual name. I’m not an idiot,” I reminded him.

 

The Elf was quiet for a time and seemed to be deeply considering the question, “I don’t remember,” he replied quietly, “I was young when...this-” he motioned to the burned side of his face, “-was done to me, and the name I had before was not my own either...” Having seen the scars up close, I knew that it was unlikely that he was lying in order to gain sympathy.

 

The revelation that the Slavers took away their Slave’s names was not all that surprising. Committing atrocities often involved, even required, dehumanising the intended targets. Stripping them of their names in one form or another was practically mandatory.

 

“So, what would you like your name to be?” I asked bluntly, “Unless you would like me to choose for you?” I threatened.

 

The elf seemed to be at a loss, fidgeting and anxiously looking around our surroundings for potential inspiration. After a while, his shoulders sagged dejectedly and he shook his head. “I don’t know.”

 

“Then your name is Keith,” I declared with a sigh, “At least until you can think of something else.”

 

“Keith?” The Elf now named Keith asked with palpable reluctance and disapproval.

 

“I warned you,” I reminded him.

 

Keith hissed in frustration but didn’t appear to have a comeback, and still did not have one when Gregory returned with ten dour, yet somehow also eager men and women in tow.

 

“The scouts, I presume?” I commented.

 

Gregory nodded, “Sergeant Brian is their leader, and Jane is his second,” he pointed to a tall lanky man with a scraggly beard and deep blue eyes, then to a short stocky woman with an abundance of freckles. They were both in their mid-thirties or forties, but carried their age very differently from one another. “They are under strict instructions to follow any order you give them, Majesty, but please bear in mind that our scouts are chosen based upon their ability to improvise-”

 

“So it’s important to give them the opportunity to do their own thing, I get it,” I interjected, “So long as those improvisations work towards the spirit of the order or objective, I doubt we will have a problem.”

 

The mention of my official title had prompted a low muttering amongst the scouts, but my follow-up comment seemed to have earned some goodwill as well.

 

I usually avoided thinking about how strange it must be for the Asrusian soldiers to take orders from, and rationalise being ruled over by a literal monster. But sometimes it was impossible not to think about it when I could see the thought process taking place in real-time in front of me. Most soldiers accepted it to a reasonable degree, or made a good job of hiding their feelings to the contrary.

 

However, there were a few, for whatever reason, that rankled under the reality of the situation. While not openly hostile, I was aware that a number of such individuals had been given punishments for their ‘seditious’ views and conversations behind closed doors. For the most part, I had pretended not to be aware of it, allowing our working relationship to remain more pleasant.

 

However, the thinly veiled contempt and disgust held by one of the scouts was a colossal red flag. “Not him,” I declared and pointed to the scout in question, a balding man with a sharp nose and ragged red beard.

 

The scout looked surprised and then made an active effort to look innocent.

 

“Liam, you're out,” Gregory commanded without hesitation, “Return to your regular duties.”

 

This earned a fresh wave of murmuring from the other scouts, but a hard glance from their Sergeant quieted them almost immediately.

 

“Might I ask why I am being dismissed?” Liam demanded with strained politeness.

 

“Because his Majesty insists upon it,” Gregory replied dispassionately, “You heard his order yourself.”

 

Liam’s facade of wounded innocence fell almost immediately, “Are you all really okay with this?!” He hissed angrily at the gathered humans, “Taking orders from a monster like him?! I swore to serve King and country! Not some filthy fucking Og-urk!...” Liam’s rant was cut short as Gregory’s hand closed around his throat and squeezed.

 

“Disobeying a direct order is a court-martial offence soldier,” Gregory hissed quietly, “And your blatant attempt at inspiring sedition is to be considered outright treason!”

 

Liam paled and desperately attempted to dislodge Gregory’s iron grip from his throat.

 

“War is upon us you spiteful little cretin, and you dare to question the Lord Regent’s most valuable ally?! Worse! You seek to drive a wedge with your disgusting and misguided hate!” Gregory’s leather glove creaked in response to his tightening grip, “Your acts of treason are noted and will disqualify your service pension,” he hissed quietly, “In light of your years of service, you will be offered a chance at redemption in a penal regiment. Should your attempts at rehabilitation be found wanting, your suspended execution will be carried out by anyone willing and able. Do you understand?”

 

Liam weakly nodded as his face began to turn beet red.

 

“Take him to an open cell,” Gregory ordered a pair of nearby soldiers before tossing Liam to the ground, “And make sure to thoroughly disarm him first.”

 

The soldiers snapped crisp salutes and wasted no time in stripping Liam to his underclothes before dragging him away.

 

“I am sorry, Majesty,” Gregory apologised sincerely, “I would not have selected him if I had known-”

 

“It’s fine Gregory,” I stated wearily, “I know people like him are in the minority.”

 

Gregory smiled gratefully and bowed, “Thank you for your understanding, Majesty.”

 

Summoning Rikit, I spent enough mana to allow Brian and Jane to ask some questions before her projection dissipated. Rikit wasn’t able to answer their questions as well as they would have liked, but they apparently decided that strapping shields to their backs and going in with their bows at the ready was a better strategy.

 

With that strategy in mind, I decided to take a quiver of javelins as well. I probably wouldn’t hit anyone, but it might prove enough to force a mercenary or two to keep their heads down.

 

With Mortax covering the left and myself on the right, we passed through the portal and appeared in a wide-open space completely devoid of any form of cover.

 

“Firing!” One of the scouts hissed and loosed an arrow towards the encircling walls roughly forty feet from our position. She was immediately followed by the other scouts who made a point of positioning themselves to make use of their shields and those carried by myself and Mortax.

 

[ Henry has slain {Determined Human: 2} +0 Exp]

 

I normally ignored kill notifications, but this one caught me somewhat by surprise. Glancing back at the scout in question, I then looked towards the distant wall and scowled. Somehow, the enemy mercenaries had managed to evolve and become monsters.

 

A hail of arrows began streaking across the open ground. I felt dozens of them strike my improvised shield and more still clattering and shattering against my breastplate, pauldrons, chausses and greaves.

 

Sparing a glance towards Mortax, I was relieved to see that the arrows missing his shield were not finding purchase on his otherwise exposed legs. The discordant clanging sound of stray arrows striking his armoured skirt was a strangely relieving weight off of my mind.

 

For his part, Mortax was holding up better than I had expected him to under the circumstances. Despite quietly mooing to himself nervously, he did as he was told and continued to stand firm and hold his shield to intercept the majority of the arrows that would otherwise strike the scouts loosely gathered between us.

 

Keith was determinedly doing his part as well, holding up his shield with two arms to better weather the torrent of incoming missiles.

 

As near as I could tell, the scouts were entirely focused on purging the distant mercenaries from a single section of the wall, relying on the cover we were providing and the shields on their backs to take the worst of the remaining enemy fire. Their plan seemed to be working, for the most part, and the number of arrows being returned from that section of the wall was comparatively few. However, it was painfully obvious that we were badly outnumbered.

 

However, cries of alarm began to echo from the encircling wall, and was quickly drowned out by the familiar laughter of Gnolls.

 

Rikit was true to her word and her pack was surging across the crenellated wall hacking and stabbing at every mercenary they could get their claws on.

 

The number of arrows being fired at us fell dramatically and very nearly fell off entirely.

 

“To the wall!” I barked and began purposefully heading towards the eastern wall, the farthest point from Rikit’s counterattack. “Mortax! Charge!” I mentally shifted his Commands from passive to self-defence.

 

“MROOOOO!!!” Mortax shattered his shield against his thigh and lurched into a furious charge.

 

Keith and the scouts began trailing behind me, the latter taking potshots to discourage the mercenaries from raising their heads while we crossed the open ground.

 

*BOOM!*

 

Mortax leapt up and onto the wall, sending a cluster of mercenaries flying and a string of kill notifications flashed across my vision.

 

The wall was only about fifteen feet tall, so I began lifting the scouts up onto the wall to begin a concentrated counterattack of their own. After lifting Keith, I removed my improvised shield and began clambering my own way up onto the wall.

 

The larger I became, the more difficult it was to climb or pull myself up over sheer surfaces. So by the time I managed to haul myself up onto the top of the wall, the fighting was very nearly finished.

 

A small group of mercenaries had tried to make a run for it, but Rikit herself emerged from behind the cover of some ragged shrubs and shot each of them down with her borrowed magical bow.

 

Making sure to shift Mortax’s commands back to a passive state, I retrieved my shield from the inner side of the wall and then leapt down to the outside.

 

The third floor looked quite similar to the first, but the ground was riddled with weblike cracks that split the ground from horizon to horizon. Inspecting one of the closest cracks revealed that a deep wide ravine lay beneath, and that I was very likely standing on a comparatively thin sheet of hardened clay or dirt.

 

Carefully backing away, I took note of a number of ropes staked back near the walls, and what looked like a collapsed section of the overhanging ceiling of the ravine.

 

Rikit seemed entirely unconcerned by the danger and lea[t over a three-foot wide crack with practised ease. “Tyrant!” She barked excitedly while closing the remaining distance between us, “The ambush is broken!” Rikit giggled happily.

 

“How did you escape the ambush when you first arrived?” I asked, thoroughly impressed that both she and her pack had escaped without casualties.

 

Rikit scratched at her neck and shrugged, “Rikit say run, pack ran,” she replied matter of factly, Pack was injured, but Rikit no leave behind.”

 

“Is Khibi alright? Is a member of your pack holding her somewhere?” I asked with concern.

 

Rikit shook her head and shrugged the crude basket pack off her back. Lifting the lid, she revealed Khibi tucked safely away in a pouch made from a suit of padded cloth armour and a steel breastplate. “Keep safe, safe with Rikit,” she explained.

 

I sighed in relief, “Good job Rikit.” I had been dreading that perhaps Khibi had been lost in the initial ambush, so it was a relief to know she was safe. “All the same, I think it would be best if Khibi was taken somewhere safer,” I suggested.

 

Rikit shifted uncomfortably but nodded in general agreement.

 

With the portal now secure, or at least for the time being, it would be best to make the most of the opportunity. Returning to the wall, I was surprised by the ease with which Rikit was able to climb the nearly sheer surface using just her clawed hands.

 

“You can leave Khibi with Fesk again,” I told Rikit and gave her a marker that would allow her to teleport directly from the main Laine portal to the first-floor foothold. “We will be waiting for your return,” I promised, very much aware that this had become quite a personal undertaking for Rikit after being ambushed.

 

Rikit nodded obediently before leaping down from the wall and barking orders to her pack, who themselves were in the process of looting the dead mercenaries.

 

“Sir, erm, Majesty...” Sergeant Brian called out respectfully, if somewhat awkwardly while jogging along the wall towards me, “As we suspected, the enemy forces are indeed mercenaries. They belong to the band of the Golden Boar, an entirely foriegn outfit from Marcelia to the far east. They have a reputation for charging extortionate amounts for their services, but also for seeing contracts through to the bitter end-”

 

“Which is why they are called the golden boar,” I surmised and motioned for the Sergeant to continue.

 

“-We are lucky, Majesty, they do not appear to have sent one of their elite cadres, just a fringe element of their aspirants,” Brian explained with visible relief, “Some of their officers may be high level, but the majority of their forces should be comparatively low level.”

 

“What about communicators?” I asked nervously, “Did you manage to find any on their bodies?”

 

Sergeant Brian grinned wolfishly, “We found more than that, Majesty,” he declared happily, “There are training manuals amongst the fallen officers' effects! We don’t just have their communicators, we have their codes as well!”

 

*****

 

Keith watched the humans run too and fro with manic excitement as they continued looting the dead men that had ambushed them almost an hour before. Besides a slightly darker, tanned skin colour, there was little difference between the living and dead. So Keith found it incredibly strange that they were so pleased by what should have been considered a tragedy.

 

It was one of the many things about humans that had always seemed profoundly wrong and unnatural about them. Even as a child, Keith had known this to be true. Unlike every other monster of the Labyrinths, it was the humans who had the most divergent nature and proclivity for violence. Worse still, their presence was oftentimes contagious, driving kin against kin for trinkets and baubles.

 

Yet for all their insanity, the Ogre had conquered them, imposing order and taming their baser more violent and chaotic instincts.

 

Despite his position of dominance, the Ogre had not abused that position for personal gain, at least so far as Keith could tell. With the possible exception of the Aurochian, there was no one who could be deemed a credible or immediate threat to his might, yet he had gone out of his way to fashion protections for his chief rival.

 

“Keith,” Keith spoke his new name aloud for what felt like the hundredth time. It still felt strange to him. It was a significant improvement over his last name, and even the one before, but it was strange nonetheless.

 

Keith picked up a rock off the ground and tensed his muscles experimentally, marvelling at how easily the stone had cracked in his fist. Far from being a result of his own Strength, Keith knew that the Ogre’s Synergy was responsible.

 

That was another thing that had bugged him. The Ogre had seemingly completely overlooked the fact that Keith had tried to kill him, and even gone so far as to recommend the means to make himself more of a threat. All Keith had done was fight some of the near mindless monsters that were attacking the camp, so it was incredibly strange to think that was all it took to gain the Ogre’s trust.

 

Only, Keith knew that there had to be more to it than that. The Ogre seemed far too intelligent to do such a thing without good cause.

 

The more Keith thought about it, the more worried he became. The Ogre had little to fear from him, and Keith slowly realised just how far beneath the Ogre’s thumb he truly was.

 

Not only did the Ogre have a host of innate advantages that made him practically invulnerable to harm, but the Ogre had already demonstrated that he could retract his own and others' Synergies at a moments notice, drastically weakening Keith in the process. Furthermore, it had been made painfully obvious that it wasn’t just the humans, but a number of powerful monsters who were profoundly loyal to him and would have no problems brutally putting Keith down should he rebel. Worst of all, whether he intended to take advantage of the fact or not, the Ogre had hostages.

 

Keith warily glanced at the Ogre from the corner of his eye and shivered.

 

For all his thoughts of doom and gloom, Keith had to admit that serving under the Ogre presented him with a number of opportunities he had never dared to expect while Enslaved by his former Masters. Most notably, advancement.

 

He had overheard the Ogre and the Healer discuss the matter a number of times, and the presence of the free Gnolls in their midst was proof of it. Those who served the Ogre willingly were rewarded and afforded the same privileges as free men and women.

 

The proclaimed service in exchange for citizenship, now seemed far less dubious. Furthermore, the Ogre had also shown he was willing to make exceptions. The Lizardmen had been given freedom with the sole condition that they obey the Ogre’s laws. Just like that, both they and their unhatched offspring were free. It was the same with the Gnolls, so far as he could tell, and more besides. What freed Slaves could expect their former Master to wage war on the Slaves' behalf to reunite their families?

 

The more he considered his options, the more Keith became convinced that he needed to prove his value. Clearly, already at war with his former Masters, Keith almost dared to hope that the Ogre could somehow be convinced to free the tribe he only remembered in his dreams.

 

More humans had arrived through the portal, accompanying the towering Gnoll Matriarch that had left earlier.

 

Unable to hear particularly well with his good ear stuffed inside of his helmet, Keith cautiously approached the gathering of humans to listen to what they were saying.

 

“-garrison the wall and make regular contact with the mercenaries to stop them from becoming suspicious,” the scraggly bearded human named Brian ordered while handing over a satchel to a slightly shorter and younger woman, “Do what you can to wash the blood out, but you are expected to be wearing those uniforms within the next hour. Understood?”

 

“Sir!” The gathered humans declared in unison, straightening their backs and saluting Brian.

 

“And make sure to keep those strips of blue fabric visible, unless you want to risk an arrow in the back,” Brian warned sternly before leaving the new arrivals behind.

 

“Can smell merseries, know not Srusians,” the large Gnoll Matriarch grumbled.

 

“Really?” Brian seemed surprised, “Well, we can’t, so it’s for peace of mind as much as anything else,” he added.

 

The Gnoll Matriarch nodded eagerly, “Merseries smell of spices!” She licked her lips in a thoroughly unnerving manner, making it obvious that she had most likely done far more than ‘smell’ the mercenaries.

 

Following Brian and the Gnoll Matriarch, Keith wasn’t particularly surprised when they led him over to the Ogre, who was still waiting on the outside of the wall.

 

“Where is the mercenaries' camp?” The Ogre asked.

 

The Gnoll Matriarch pointed off into the distance, “Hidden, many watchers,” she snarled in irritation, “Hiding in large dry river.”

 

“That would limit the means of approaching their camp,” Brian commented dourly, “And sentries posted above would be relatively unseen if we traversed the ravine below. So dealing with those sentries-”

 

“Slaves,” the Gnoll Matriarch barked angrily, “No sentirees, Gnoll SLAVES!”

 

The Ogre raised his hand, motioning for her to be silent. “In this instance, they are one and the same, Rikit. The Sergeant is simply trying to explain his point.”

 

The Gnoll matriarch, Rikit, fidgeted uncomfortably but nodded to show she understood.

 

“The Slaves being used as sentries,” Brian amended, “Makes removing them a high priority, but will very likely leave us a very small window of opportunity before something is detected as amiss.”

 

“So what is your recommendation?” The Ogre asked respectfully.

 

Brian shifted a little uncomfortably and glanced towards Rikit, “I think infiltrating the enemy camp in disguise, might be our best option.”

 

“Go on,” the Ogre insisted curiously.

 

“Well...If we take the place of one of their enslavement teams, and use their uniforms to serve as a disguise, we might be able to take out their leadership in a surprise attack. Or identify and quietly eliminate those who have control over the Slave Collars.” The Sergeant’s plan was lacking in details, but there wasn’t much information to work with in the first place.

 

The Gnoll Matriarch didn’t seem to like the plan and eyed the Sergeant distrustfully, “Tyrant, free Gnolls, Gnolls fight,” she insisted.

 

“There are too many...” The Ogre stated reluctantly, “Unless...unless you can trigger a sort of chain reaction...” He mused thoughtfully. “I might be able to seize control over enough Collars if I don’t have to fight for that control. But you would need to be in the thick of the fighting Rikit. Every Gnoll that resists is another ten or so I won’t be able to free during the fight.”

 

“Rikit understands! Rikit fight!” Rikit replied enthusiastically, her teeth bared in feral anticipation.

 

“Bringing her in as a ‘prisoner’ might work,” Brian agreed, “But any Gnolls we bring with us would need to acquire weapons inside of the camp.”

 

“Rikit no need weapons,” Rikit barked derisively and flexed her claws.

 

“Fair point,” Brian agreed, “And I suppose that as long as they rely solely on Slave Collars, and forgo restraints, this could be relatively straightforward.”

 

“In theory,” the Ogre qualified while nodding in agreement, “They might even be used to losing a few men here and there already. So we might be able to thin their numbers a little.”

 

Brian slowly nodded but seemed apprehensive, “It would be better to not risk it unless we are certain,” he cautioned diplomatically.

 

The Ogre shrugged, “I trust your expertise and experience.”

 

After listening for a while longer, Keith realised that this was probably the best opportunity he would get in order to prove himself. If he could play an instrumental role in freeing the Gnoll Slaves, then Keith was certain he would be all but guaranteed to enter the Ogre’s confidence. Or, at the very least, demonstrate that he was capable enough to warrant further opportunities and potential considerations for special treatment.

 

Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, Keith stepped forward and raised his right arm, “I want to volunteer...”