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

 

The ravine floor was deeper than I initially expected. Close to a hundred feet deep, this immediately presented a number of problems. Most notably was Mortax’s crippling fear of heights. Assisting the terrified Aurochian down from the wall had been a labour all unto itself.

With no time to spare, the decision was made to leave Mortax behind as a sort of elite reserve should the return Portal come under attack. In reality, Mortax would spend most of his time demolishing the gateways of the Foothold walls that the mercenaries had crudely barricaded for their ambushes. The Aurochian would also be assisting the soldiers with anchoring more climbing ropes as well.

 

Listening to Rikit’s rough description of what to expect while we travelled towards the mercenary camp, I came to understand that the majority of the flesh and blood monsters lived down in the ravine and the tunnels that branched off of it into caverns below the ground.

 

Travelling through the ravine a short while later, I was surprised that the golem-like monsters of the surface were far rarer as well. There were plenty enough of their scattered remains, so I could only assume that they had fallen from up above and dashed themselves to pieces.

 

The Scouts and Rikit’s pack had a curious dynamic in play. The Gnolls were technically leading the way, using their powerful sense of smell to follow their earlier passage through the area. Meanwhile, the Scouts were doing their best to keep up with the Gnolls' brisk pace while keeping a wary eye on the overhanging ceiling of the ravine.

 

The scattered formation left Rikit, Keith and myself trailing behind in the rear. Even with a deliberately clay and mud-stained poncho to somewhat camouflage my appearance, my sheer size and weight were liable to reveal our collective movements if I strayed too far forwards. Keith lacked the Scouts' training for traversing the rocky terrain, and the Gnolls' primal survival instincts, so he had retreated to my side where his occasional scuffles on the loose rocks would be almost unnoticeable.

 

Rikit’s reason for joining us was equally pragmatic. She was observing and judging the males of her pack. One of her responsibilities as Matriarch, especially while ‘at war’ and ‘on the hunt’, was to track each of the male’s achievements. It was a role that could also be performed by her mate, but it wouldn’t carry the same weight in the tribe, and Rikit had yet to choose her mate.

 

Given how important these accumulated achievements were for the males risking their lives, and for the females in selecting a mate, it was a role Rikit was taking very seriously. Quietly chatting while we travelled, I learned that the piercings I had seen worn by the Gnolls in Sanctuary had something to do with this observed level of performance.

 

Basically, if a male did good enough to warrant it, Rikit would award them a piercing that matched or referenced the achievement in some way. The piercing would be awarded in front of the tribe, or a large gathering of witnesses, so there wasn’t really a way to cheat the system with fake accolades. Additionally, the tribe wouldn’t accept another tribe’s accolades without a suitable number of credible witnesses, which Rikit simplified in a rather misandric fashion. Either the tribe’s matriarch vouched for the male, or at least five of their tribe’s females would have to.

 

It made a sort of sense, given that the males would have the most to gain by lying, but it was still weird to listen to Rikit state it all so matter of factly.

 

It actually made me rather glad that the Orcs seemed to be far more egalitarian. Granted, women were discouraged from becoming warriors of the tribe or clan, but they weren’t pressured into having children either. Not by external forces anyway. Similar to early civilisations of humans, it seemed to be the prevailing opinion that so long as the women and children of the tribe survived, then so would the tribe. Losing a few men here and there, or even an entire generation in conflict, could be recouped through the survivors.

 

The Gnoll’s society took that to its logical extreme, which is what made them so strange in a greater social context.

 

With so many Species living in close proximity within Sanctuary, I was actually rather surprised at how well they all got along. There was a very real possibility that this was a sort of honeymoon phase generated by each group's gratitude for their respective rescue, but I still hoped that there was more to it than that.

 

Besides a few traps that Rikit’s pack had left behind them originally, and a handful of dog-sized scarab looking beetle monsters, our march through the winding and branching ravine was almost entirely uneventful. However, this came to an abrupt end when a large body of water and an open section of the sky was spotted up ahead.

 

“Merseries,” Rikit growled quietly and then moved forward to address her pack.

 

Brian quietly made his way back towards me. “Majesty, if we are to attempt the disguised infiltration of the mercenary camp, I would suggest the use of blunted weapons,” he made a deliberate glance towards the Gnolls and their bladed weaponry.

 

“You can discuss it with Rikit then,” I replied, “I think you will find her quite amenable, provided you explain your reasoning.”

 

Brian looked a little surprised, but bowed his head and returned to his men and the gathering of Gnolls.

 

With no way in hell of being able to sneak close enough to participate without ruining the intended sneak attack, I didn’t have much of a choice but to stand back and wait.

 

The combined force of Gnolls and Scouts crept down the ravine in near perfect silence and left my line of sight a while afterwards.

 

Once the kill notifications began streaming across my vision, I took that as a sign that I could now follow and catch the advance forces up again.

 

Keith could now move up as well, but his issues with depth perception made traversing the rough terrain at a fast pace visibly difficult.

 

Rather than leaving him behind, I slowed my pace back down to walk. While I was a little annoyed that it was going to take that much longer to catch up to the group, it was also somewhat reassuring to know that the mercenaries probably weren’t very capable of traversing the rocky terrain either.

 

Sure enough, the fighting was completely over by the time Keith and myself reached the others.

 

Fifteen mercenaries were laid out on the ground and the Scouts were in the process of stripping them to make their disguises. The small fire and scattered belongings suggested that they had likely been making camp just before we had arrived.

 

As an added safeguard to Rikit’s role in the infiltration, I made sure to claim her through the Slave Collar. Any Slaver that would attempt to take her from my control would suffer lethal levels of feedback and probably fall unconscious before they had an opportunity to cancel their attempt.

 

Unwilling to risk the bow falling into enemy hands, I took it back from Rikit and stowed it in a sling on my back.

 

Disarmed of her weapons, Rikit didn’t seem at all worried about the prospect of entering the enemy camp. If anything, she was growing somewhat impatient about waiting, and couldn’t seem to stop flexing her claws and working her jaw in anticipation.

 

Disposing of the bodies was a task the Gnolls took to with savage eagerness, ripping and tearing the dead mercenaries limb from limb and scattering their entrails.

 

Aware that the intent was to generate misdirection if another group of mercenaries passed by the area, it was no easier to watch or listen to. I could have looked away and covered my ears, but I forced myself not to. This was my life now, and I had to accept it if I was going to become strong enough to protect those who depended on me.

 

The Scouts, Keith and Rikit, were given a ten-minute head start before the pack of Gnolls and myself began following behind.

 

Without Rikit to keep an eye on them, the Gnolls were not nearly as focused as they had been earlier. While they weren’t nearly as loud as I was, their occasional bouts of hysterical nervous giggling still made me nervous that we might be discovered by sentries posted somewhere above us and out of sight.

 

After walking for the better part of the day, I began to feel Slaves entering my sphere of influence, and shortly afterwards the Gnolls came to an abrupt halt.

 

“Hide,” one of the larger Gnolls insisted, snorting his nose while shoving another Gnoll towards a recessed section of the ravine wall.

 

The other Gnolls began doing the same, hunkering down in whatever cover they could find.

 

Noticing the distinct acrid odour of ammonia, and a darkly stained patch of rocks in the middle of the path, I realised that Rikit must have left a scent marker of some kind that the Gnolls recognised as a signal to stop following and take cover.

 

I had to resort to digging out a section of the wall in order for my poncho to stand a chance at hiding my presence. However, the extra stains made the camouflage that much more effective, so I wasn’t really complaining about it either.

 

Taking my lead, a number of the Gnolls worked together to dig out a small cave they could share. Moving some of the smaller boulders and larger rocks to obscure the entrance with practised ease, it was clear that they were quite used to making camp in the winding passages of the ravine.

 

The deep shadows would normally have me convinced that we were all quite well hidden, but the problem was that the other side had Gnolls of their own, even if they were otherwise unwilling. Through scent or heightened night vision, the Enslaved Gnolls serving as the mercenaries' sentries evened the playing field to a profoundly uncomfortable degree. I realised that it was worse than that. With the Mercenaries having turned themselves into monsters, they were now benefitting from the Gnolls Synergies as well, making them much more dangerous.

 

Growing increasingly nervous as time passed, I couldn’t help but fret over the plan falling apart and having sat back and done nothing while it happened.

 

A kill notification snapped me out of my thoughts and I hastily established control over a handful of now uncontrolled Slaves. Mentally issuing the order to continue with their formerly assigned tasks, but not to raise any alarms, I also added a provision to obey Rikit and not to harm the Scouts. Even if the Gnolls weren’t aware of the commands, they would still be bound by them. So I hoped that they would take the pain as disincentive to act against our infiltration mission.

 

More kill notifications began sporadically appearing in front of my eyes, and an increasingly larger number of Gnolls were made available to control.

 

While seizing control of the Slave Collars was much easier and cost less mana when it was uncontested, I was still losing a lot of mana. To try and offset the loss, I began spending redemption points to chug Evolution Elixir as fast I could manage. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t enough, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to mentally issue the necessary commands and partition the Slaves into an increasingly intricate web of smaller partys that were in turn a part of my Retinue.

 

My struggle wasn’t lost on the free Gnolls in my immediate vicinity, who began warily eyeing one another and myself in turn, whining or faintly giggling to one another anxiously. Without them to serve as party Leaders, I wouldn’t have had the mental wherewithal to keep up with demand as the alcohol and unrelenting waves of uncontrolled Slaves dominated my mental energy.

 

Uncorking and guzzling the Elixir was becoming too much for my impaired motor skills to handle, forcing me to resort to crushing the clay bottles with my fist over my open mouth and swallowing the contents before throwing the broken shards of pottery away.

 

*Brooot! BROOOOOOT!!!*

 

Reduced to less than a twentieth of my mana, inebriated, and profoundly tired, I didn’t immediately understand what I had heard. However, as a string of death notifications appeared in front of my eyes, I felt a wave of anger rush through my veins and acted without really thinking.

 

I sent a mental Command to the Enslaved Gnolls and lurched to my feet, staggering as I tried to fend off a sudden wave of dizziness and secure my footing on the rough stones.

 

The Gnolls around me began giggling in earnest, clutching at their weapons and leaving their hiding places, looking to me for orders.

 

Unable to readily articulate my thoughts, I boiled the order down to one word, “KILL.”

 

The Gnolls excitement reached a fever pitch and they began charging down the ravine towards the mercenaries' camp.

 

Barely able to see past the death and kill notifications, I dismissed them both with a thought as I lumbered after the Gnolls. I did my best to scoop up as many of the Collared Gnolls as I could, but once I reached my capacity, I was forced to begin ejecting large numbers from the group in order to accept others.

 

As the outer perimeter of the mercenaries' camp came into view, I was so depleted of mana that I couldn’t risk taking Control over any more Gnolls without risking falling unconscious. However, more Gnolls continued spilling into my retinue, albeit at a much slower rate than before.

 

Unable to understand what was happening, it wasn’t until I passed through the crude stone wall and witnessed a trio of Gnolls bearing another to the ground that I began to realise what was happening. In the midst of the pitched fighting with the mercenaries and their Gnoll Slaves, the ‘freed’ Gnolls were tackling their Enslaved brethren to the ground and contesting their Masters for control. If the Gnoll’s master was already dead, the Gnoll would immediately stop resisting and join the small pack in tackling another Enslaved Gnoll.

 

In my inebriated state, I couldn’t help but think of the situation as being very similar to a zombie movie.

 

Standing taller than the tents, crude shelters, and cages that dominated the camp, I was able to see that the mercenaries were pulling back into the centre of the camp to make their final stand. I was also able to confirm that Rikit hadn’t been exaggerating, there were hundreds of them.

 

For every mercenary the Gnolls caught in their retreat, four more were able to slip past. This was almost entirely due to the still Enslaved Gnolls under their Command being used as complete fodder, and the Gnolls' collective unwillingness to kill their own unless absolutely necessary.

 

Here and there, I saw mercenaries stab their fellows in the back, or trip one another up in their desperation to escape. But I didn’t realise that it was the work of the Scouts until one of them gave me a crisp salute before sprinting off after another group of fleeing mercenaries. I then began noticing how certain attacks by the Gnolls would fall just short of one mercenary only to land on the man next to them instead.

 

True to Rikit’s word, the Gnolls didn’t ‘need’ weapons. Their claws, teeth and sheer brute force were more than sufficient to carry the surprise attack forward. However, this didn’t prevent them from snatching up the weapons of their fallen enemies and using them to devastating effect.

 

Armoured in chainmail and padded cloth armour, the mercenaries were still seemingly caught unawares and on the back foot. Worse still, they were surrounded and appeared to have no way out. However, those who made it to the safety of the larger group were formed into ranks and were repelling each impromptu attack made in their direction, butchering dozens of Gnolls in the process.

 

Removing a javelin from the quiver hanging off my hip, I lobbed it in the general direction of the mercenaries. Despite having no real expectations of hitting anything or anyone, my javelin gored through two men and firmly lodged itself in the thigh of a third.

 

Without really thinking, I continued lobbing javelins while awkwardly ploughing through the tents that got in my way.

 

Arrows, bolts and even a few javelins began pelting against my armour and poncho, but I just ignored them and continued throwing whatever came to hand once I had run out of javelins.

 

As I continued to draw closer, the mercenaries began taking me more seriously, becoming much more organised and presenting a more unified defence against my improvised projectiles.

 

“SPEARS AND ANY OTHER FUCKING POLEARM TO THE FRONT! TO! THE! FRONT!” A mercenary officer shouted shrilly, his voice seemingly on the verge of breaking.

 

All the same, the command was obeyed and dozens of mercenaries with all manner of polearms took a bristling formation in anticipation of my continued advance.

 

A part of my brain was still sufficiently aware to realise that charging face first into a wall of braced spikes was not a good idea. So I began to slow my approach and consider my options. Angling my helmet so the enemy projectiles and splinters were directed away from my eyes I remembered that I could just use my redemption points to summon more javelins, and that there was technically no reason why I should enter striking distance in the first place.

 

“BRING THAT FUCKING OGRE DOWN ALREADY!!!” The officer shrieked as the javelin I had aimed at him tore through a mercenary two feet to his left.

 

The javelin in my hand shattered into splinters and I had already closed half the distance between myself and the formation of braced polearms before I realised what I was doing. Already gripping one of the fifteen-foot long pikes with my right hand, I lifted the pike with little effort despite the mercenary on the other end refusing to let go.

 

Ignoring the scrapes and jabs of the other pikes against my chest, I brought the pike, mercenary and all, crashing down on the formation again and again. When the pike cracked, I began reaching for another.

 

The mercenaries' formation had fractured, and nearly half their surviving number had fled to the next line of defence.

 

“KILL IT!” The officer continued to shriek while turning to flee, “KILL THE OGRE!!!”

 

Swatting aside the pikes, I lurched into a lumbering charge, ignoring the tugs as spearheads tore through my poncho. Feeling no pain, I continued towards the now fleeing officer, running down a number of mercenaries that didn’t get out of the way fast enough.

 

The officer kept tripping over the uneven ground as he stared back at me, his eyes wide with terror.

 

Driven by a sudden surge of rage, I lashed out at the officer and caught his left arm. Without hesitating, I whipped his arm and smashed his body against the ground with a satisfying crunch.

 

Rather than kill him, the officer’s legs, arm and pelvis were crushed.

 

Screaming, the officer drew a knife from his belt and stabbed it at my hand.

 

Despite being unharmed, I let go out of reflex.

 

Refusing to drop his knife, the officer began dragging himself towards the not too distant formation gathering mercenaries in the true centre of the camp.

 

Taking note of their brandished pikes and spears, I snatched up the crippled and whimpering officer by his broken right leg. Taking care to take a firm grip, shattering the already broken bones in the process, I hurled his body towards the mercenaries.

 

The officer’s body was impaled upon and broke a number of pikes as the mercenaries instinctively tried to intercept the improvised projectile.

 

A wave of furred bodies rushed past me and crashed into the mercenaries, overrunning them within seconds in a tide of savagery and violence.

 

Struggling to stay awake, I staggered towards the wall of the ravine and slumped into a sitting position before slowly blacking out.

 

Not sure how much time had passed, I woke up with a splitting headache and my mouth as dry as a desert. Trying to move, I realised that I was practically covered by the bodies of a dozen or so sleeping Gnolls piled on top of one another, leaving only my helmeted head exposed to the surprisingly frigid air.

 

Awkwardly extricating an arm, I removed my helmet and massaged my head to try to alleviate the pain. Using redemption points to purchase a waterskin, I downed its contents almost immediately and then purchased another, and another. I would have purchased a barrel of water instead, but sacrificing the comforting buzz I was feeling from being warm while it was so objectively cold out was not worth the price.

 

However, once I began purchasing food, the situation changed rather dramatically. By the time I was moving on to my second helping of the depressingly small food parcels, the Gnolls serving as my improvised blanket had well and truly begun to stir.

 

Having now treated my intense dehydration to the point that I could now open my eyes more than a few millimetres, I realised that the Gnolls surrounding me looked visibly under fed. It was harder to tell because of how each Gnoll was curled up on themselves as much as possible to retain warmth, but it was impossible not to notice once I knew what to look for.

 

A part of me was genuinely surprised that they hadn’t cannibalised the dead mercenaries. As sickening as the thought was, the sheer pragmatism of it seemed very much like something the Gnolls would otherwise do.

 

Despite the lack of bodies in the vicinity, I still had a distinct impression that the mercenaries' bodies had not been consumed.

 

With the Gnolls around me already awakened by the smell of food, I gently, and not so gently, shifted them to either side so I had some free space to work with.

 

Purchasing barrels of food and water, I realised that perhaps the absence of sufficient water supplies had been the determining factor for why the mercenaries’ remains had been passed over. Unlike the Scouts, or even Lords like Rikit, I accrued redemption points from my subordinates' actions, and not just my own. It was a sort of cheat to the quest system that didn’t make much sense besides the fact that I was technically only allowing myself more limited access to things that were already determined to be ‘my property’.

 

It didn’t take long for the other bundles of Gnolls to begin investigating what the fuss was about, and I was very quickly surrounded by a slowly moving procession that resembled the colonies of penguins I had seen once in a nature documentary. Open crates and barrels of preserved meats and fresh drinking water were lined up by a small group of Gnolls to form a semicircle. These same Gnolls served as a sort of cafeteria staff, using ladles and simple wooden tongs to dole out water and food into simple clay bowls and cups.

 

The portions were deliberately small initially, because I wasn’t sure if the supply depot would be able to handle a sudden surge in demand without warning, and that it would be better for everyone to get a little, than for some to go entirely without. 

 

Not that the Gnolls themselves were complaining. The press of bodies was more than enough to warm the immediate vicinity, making waiting in the winding queue not much worse than sleeping with an empty stomach.

 

A heckling cry from the rear of the massed queue parted the gathered Gnolls to either side almost immediately and without complaint, revealing Rikit, Brian, and close to a hundred grey-furred Gnolls in tow. Despite being unnecessary, Rikit made a point of snarling and growling at the gathered Males to drive them back further.

 

I didn’t quite understand until I realised that the Gnolls immediately behind Rikit didn’t have collars and weren’t wearing the Asrusians' padded armour. They were the remnants of the Ashfur tribe that had not been captured.

 

“Majesty,” Brian bowed his head, “My apologies for leaving you unattended, but Rikit requested our services in tracking down the Ashfur-”

 

“It’s fine,” I interrupted, only now realising that Rikit had reclaimed her borrowed bow while I was unconscious. “What did you do with the bodies of the mercenaries?” It had been bugging me for the past hour and I was ready for a definitive answer.

 

Brian seemed somewhat uncomfortable. “Ahem, after...harvesting their mana stones... We used them as a diversion to keep the wild monsters away,” he explained carefully.

 

“Males need sleep,” Rikit added matter of factly, “Other males stay away if getting easy food.”

 

“Which gave you time to look for the remaining Ashfurs,” I nodded in understanding while motioning for my assistants to continue doling out food and water, prioritising the new arrivals. “I need you to contact someone that can pass along the warning of increased demand for field rations,” I told the Sergeant while making a point of motioning to the hundreds of Gnolls around us.

 

Brian nodded in understanding, “I will do so immediately, Majesty. However, I don't think that there will be any immediate problems. Speaking with the Lord Regent’s representative led me to believe that a stockpile of sorts is deliberately maintained and rotated with occasions, somewhat similar to these in mind.”

 

I shrugged, “Better safe than sorry.” Especially considering Rikit was technically going to be moving around with a small army for the immediately foreseeable future, at least until the Gnolls could be resettled.

 

“There is one other thing, Majesty...” Brian stated nervously, “The mercenaries Commander and senior officers managed to escape...”

 

Even though I struggled to recall the exact events of the attack, I distinctly recalled the mercenaries' position being absolutely swarmed, ‘How?” I demanded flatly.

 

“They had a Wand of Teleportation, or something similar...We did our best, but the Commander must have had it hidden on his person,” Brian explained apologetically while bowing his head low.

 

I shifted uncomfortably and turned to Rikit, “I need you to stay behind a while longer and help lock down a few more floors of the labyrinth,” I explained in a somewhat irritated tone.

 

Rikit nodded obediently, “Rikit do!”

 

Brian didn't seem to quite understand.

 

“If enough consecutive floors are controlled, most forms of teleportation can be blocked,” I explained while grinding my teeth over the need to use the word, most. “Since I assume there is no way of knowing for certain if this Commander or one of his subordinates has not been to any of the earlier floors either, the first through third floors will need their inbound and outbound portals seized and put under garrison. As will the fourth floor’s portal to the third floor, to prevent circumventing the blockade.” 

 

Technically the blockade wouldn’t work without the fourth floor’s portal, but the Sergeant and surrounding Gnolls didn’t need to know that.

 

I was actually surprised by how many of the Ashfurs had survived, although a little disappointed when I learned that their surviving females had in fact fought to determine their new Matriarch. I was actually a little surprised to learn that the badly wounded, but very much alive, female limping behind Rikit was that Matriarch. I had expected Rikit to kill her, so it was a relief to see that Rikit was demonstrating greater signs of restraint in conjunction with her continued Evolution.

 

On the surface, the division of sexes was now roughly equal, and I could feel a definite shift in the energy of the group. Despite the newly arrived females’, and the few males accompanying them, being far more interested in food and water, the formerly wild males were now attempting to distinguish themselves from their compatriots by flaunting scars and recently acquired wounds from the battle.

 

A snarl from Rikit saw the majority of the preening ended, but a few of the larger males near the back of the queue didn’t stop until Rikit began determinedly stalking toward them. Without the other Gnolls between them to serve as a buffer, the holdouts scattered.

 

I was actually somewhat relieved at the prospect of locking down this floor of the Labyrinth. The idea of Rikit being forced to kill the wild elements of her kind while securing the Foothold was rather uncomfortable to think about. At least after securing the floor, I could block the wild Gnolls from spawning, just as I had been doing for all the humanoid and sapient monsters in the other Labyrinths.

 

It took hours to fully distribute the food and water, and the Gnolls had settled into two large carpets of fur once they were all well fed. The segregation had been enforced by Rikit, separating the Ashfurs from the wild males.

 

It wasn’t until the Scouts began erecting a couple of the trampled tents that I realised some of them were missing, and a few moments after that revelation to realise that they were not missing at all. They were dead. Four Scouts had died during the chaotic melee, including Brian’s stocky second in command, Jane.

 

The soldiers’ collective business as usual demeanour was both inspiring and profoundly depressing. With the grim realities of war, it made a sort of sense that they weren’t being overly emotional over the loss of their comrades, but I felt a profound sense of guilt all the same. I was the reason they were here, so ultimately, I was the reason those men and women were dead.

 

I would have made a terrible soldier in my former life, and my opinion on the matter had only grown worse with each new day. I could still feel the way the bones had broken beneath my fingers, and the feral satisfaction I had felt, that now nauseated me.

 

It wasn’t until the early morning that I managed to find Keith. He had shed the mercenary chainmail, likely to avoid freezing to death and to better conserve body heat during the night. From what I could tell, just by judging the lack of stains on his padded cloth armour, Keith had most likely erected a makeshift tent of some kind after the battle. It made a sort of sense that the half-blind Elf wouldn’t risk antagonising the Gnolls for a bite to eat, especially since he would have still had rations of his own.

 

All the same, I was more relieved to see him intact than I would otherwise like to admit. Especially with the deaths of the Scouts weighing so heavily on my conscience.

 

I had spent most of the rest of the night counting the dead, both theirs and ours, by going through the long list of notifications. In addition to our Asrusian Human Scouts, seventy-nine Gnolls had died, two of which had been male Ashfur survivors. In a way, I was thankful that the mercenaries had turned themselves into monsters. It made it easier to distance myself from their deaths when the notification read as Human, instead of a name. However, that same emphasis on Human disturbed me on a whole other level as well. 

 

Three hundred and eighty-seven Human’s had been killed, and I was the one who ordered it.

 

While travelling back to the Foothold, I tried not to think too much, and focused on walking instead.

 

Climbing out of the ravine proved to be a more difficult exercise than I had been willing to think about. Even with the overhanging ceiling collapsed to allow climbing and bracing against the wall of the ravine, I had to resort to half climbing and half being pulled out by Mortax and a team of soldiers.

 

The Gnolls climbed the same ravine wall with little visible effort using just their hands and claws.

 

Providing a large volume of food, water, weapons and other supplies, large tents were erected inside of the walls to serve as shelters while Rikit and her now significantly larger pack seized control over the Foothold. Ril’s Gateway would presumably be connected to the greater network once Rikit was finished, so the Asrusian military would provide support for fortifying the other area around the other portal.

 

Leaving Rikit and the Gnolls behind, Keith, Mortax, myself, and all but one of the surviving Scouts passed through the portal and returned to the city of Laine. The lone Scout was left behind to maintain communication with the military in case of an emergency, or to signal once the Conquest was over.

 

It was a little strange that the Ashfurs would go along with Rikit’s plan, considering that their lost and stolen eggs were not in their possession. However, as best I could understand, the Ashfurs were taking Rikit, and her original pack of survivors from the auction, at their word that the eggs were indeed safe. There was no other explanation I could think of that would explain why they were so willing to stay behind.

 

Leaving the Sergeant and his Scouts to be debriefed by Gregory and their respective superiors, I left the building and wandered the road outside.

 

Far from being the relaxing walk I hoped it would be, I quickly became aware of a tension in the air that I didn’t remember feeling when I was last in the city.

 

Walking over to the gate to the lower levels of the city, I was afforded a view that explained the reason for the tension I was feeling. The empire’s army had arrived while I was away, and they had established a camp outside of the city as well as a row of earthworks that would inhibit any attempts at fleeing the city.

 

Worse still, more imperial armies could be seen approaching along the roads leading to the city. With every passing moment, the enemy's numbers were growing, and even without doing an official count, I could tell that they already outnumbered the Asrusian soldiers within the city by a substantial margin.

 

“I have never seen it from this side before,” Keith muttered, surprising me a little when I realised that both he and Mortax had followed me to the gate. Keith looked like he wanted to say something else, but he remained silent.

 

Asrusian soldiers were patrolling the streets in force, perhaps as a means of reassuring the population by reminding them of their presence. All the same, the streets seemed mostly empty.

 

Heading back to the Labyrinth Portal, I found Gregory waiting for me with a worried expression on his face.

 

“Majesty,” Gregory bowed his head as he approached, “It is a relief to learn of your success against the Golden Boar mercenaries. Unfortunately, I have yet to acquire evidence that would implicate the local nobility or criminal elements with their activities.”

 

“Which means there is possibly another traitor in the city?” I guess with a tired sigh.

 

Gregory nodded, “Quite so, Majesty. I suspect the mercenaries may in fact support a third party in all of this. The absence of Slavers and prolific use of Collars makes any sort of connection to the empire unlikely, but not impossible. However, it is far more likely that the mercenaries were acting under orders from a mutual enemy of both ourselves and the empire.”

 

“The confederacy?” I guessed uncertainly, unable to recall exactly what the coalition of independent cities names themselves.

 

Apparently unwilling to contradict me, Gregory nodded again, “That is my thoughts on the matter,” he agreed, “It is against their interests for the empire to seize an easy victory in this war, as they would be the ones to face the empire next after their facade of an alliance is discarded. If the-” Gregory paused for a handful of heartbeats, “-confederacy...are responsible for this, then it would be safe to suspect other cities might have similar contingencies in play.” Gregory looked at me expectantly, perhaps hoping that I would volunteer to aggressively lock down the lower floors of the Labyrinths in other cities.

 

It wasn’t going to happen.

 

Unless there was proof of more Variants being Enslaved or killed, I wasn’t interested. I already had a war of my own to continue against the Liche, and the time spent in Laine and its Labyrinth was a part of that.

 

Gregory backed down quickly, altering his expression with deceptive ease. “You must be tired, Majesty. I will leave you to your recuperation in peace,” he stated apologetically before bowing and leaving the building.

 

Despite having seen through Gregory’s attempted manipulation, I couldn't bring myself to blame him for it. As near as I could tell, Gregory, and by extension, the Regent, were just doing whatever they could in order to keep their people safe and out of literal Slavery. However, I was emotionally drained and already struggling to reconcile my role in how the mercenaries had been defeated. I needed time to decompress and get my head straight again, and I wouldn’t get that opportunity while actively seeking out more violence. 

 

Then again, sparring might be exactly what I needed. The opportunity for venting my frustration and anger without compounding the root cause.

 

Glancing sidelong at Mortax, I wondered what bribery, if any, would be required to coax him into accepting the role as my sparring partner.

 

*****

 

Taking deep even breaths, Clarice did her best to relax and allow the special water of her bath to do its work. Taken from the fountain of a temple, or some such thing, touching the water with her with red flesh was like reaching into a bonfire.

 

Relatively familiar with pain, Clarice had been told by the Daemon Wraithe, multiple times, that the pain she was feeling was ‘a good sign’, and that it meant Clarice’s nerves and muscles were recovering. Wraithe had mentioned a whole mess of other things Clarice didn’t understand, but Clarice had been in too much pain to bother trying to remember.

 

Silently enduring the bath, Clarice glanced guiltily at Toby and Emelia. Wraithe was binding their unconscious bodies with bandages soaked in the special water. However, in spite of the medicines Wraithe administered to dull their pain and keep them unconscious, both Emelia and Toby would shudder or flinch as fresh bandages were applied to their withered flesh.

 

Keenly aware that she had gotten off relatively unscathed, Clarice felt somewhat guilty for being so childish.

 

After having spent the better part of three days in the special water, Clarice was actually feeling much better, and the pain, although initially intense, was bearable so long she didn’t think about it too much.

 

Accepting the assistance of one of the Serpent-Kin attendants, Clarice left her bath and awkwardly towled herself down before getting dressed. Already exhausted by that minor amount of activity, Clarice groaned as she braced herself for Wraithe’s recommended rehabilitation exercises.

 

Slowly descending the ramps to the ground floor while clutching tightly to one of the handrails, Clarice knew she was not truly at risk of falling despite her legs shaking and requiring a short break partway down.

 

Walking over relatively flat ground was less taxing, and Clarice eschewed her normal laps around the hospital in favour of hunting down Dhizi. Fully capable of sensing the giant lizard’s location at will, she already knew that Dhizi was going to be basking in the sun by the orchards.

 

After several stops to recover her strength, Clarice finally arrived in front of Dhizi and gave her an annoyed thump with her fist, “Why do you have to hang out so far from the hospital?” Clarice grumbled half-heartedly before affectionately stroking the scaly beast's scales in place of an apology.

 

Dhizi flicked her tongue lazily before returning to basking in the sun.

 

Awkwardly lowering herself into a sitting position against Dhizi’s back, Clarice let out a tired sigh and watched the children climbing the orchard trees for a midday snack. The orchard keepers turned a blind eye so long as the children weren’t greedy, even going so far as to use their Druid powers to secretly assist the smaller children with climbing and descending the trees.

 

It was a far cry from what Clarice remembered of her own childhood. Born in the empire, her family had been pit fighters for generations, fighting and dying for the entertainment of the crowds. Denied any form of social advancement, Clarice had been given three choices. Birth the next generation, fight in the pits, or struggle to eke out a life on her back.

 

Clarice had chosen a fourth option, leaving her family behind to try and forge her own destiny. She had bribed a merchant with coins stolen from one of his rivals, saving just enough to join the Guild once she had crossed the border.

 

Joining the Adventurers Guild had been something of a last resort after Clarice realised that she lacked the skills to do much else besides fight or fuck for a living. Since she was not a natural-born citizen, Clarice was unable to become a soldier or guard, which really only left two options. Clarice had originally intended to join the Mercenary Guild, but the recruiter had made...advances, so Clarice broke his fingers and scarpered, fleeing into the Adventurers Guild and signing up to gain their protection.

 

Things had not exactly gotten much better after that. Clarice would be the first to admit that she wasn’t good with fitting in, making friends, keeping friends, talking to people...

 

Clarice scowled and stared at her hands, wringing them anxiously for a time before releasing a deep sigh.

 

Meeting Nadine and Emelia had originally been because of another act of Clarice’s impulsiveness and anti-social nature. Thrown out of four other Guild assigned Partys’ because she couldn’t ‘play nice’, Clarice had only been extended an offer by Nadine because she was too new to have learned of Clarice’s reputation. Nadine’s rigid ‘by the book’ nature had meant she offered Clarice a legally binding contract alongside the offer.

 

Somewhat aware that Nadine would be her last chance to join a Party, Clarice had signed before Nadine had a chance to realise her mistake.

 

Nadine learned of Clarice’s reputation less than an hour later, but rather than trying to invalidate the contract, she had continued canvasing the other fresh recruits for a third member.

 

In a way, Nadine had taken advantage of Clarice as well, but she hadn’t realised that until they were in the Labyrinth hunting down Vrabbits with Emelia.

 

As a non-damage dealing spellcaster, Nadine had proven only marginally more useful than Emelia in a fight. This had meant that Clarice was doing the majority of the fighting while splitting a disproportionate amount of their earnings with the others.

 

Clarice grimaced as she recalled how much she had resented them for not pulling their weight. She remembered how close she had been to terminating the contract and paying out a penalty fee so she could strike out on her own. The very next day, Emelia had gone chasing after a Goblin and nearly gotten herself killed. But it was also how they had met Tim and changed their fortunes almost overnight.

 

Clarice regretted how she had treated him in those early days, viewing him only as a piece of meat. It was only after having time to reflect on her actions that Clarice realised she had treated Tim just like the imperial elites had treated her.

 

She still marvelled at Tim’s restraint. In his place, with his strength, Clarice would have killed them all. The idea of being someone's literal Slave turned her stomach. Clarice knew this made her something of an unempathetic hypocrite considering her willingness to take advantage of Tim for profit and easy levels.

 

For whatever reason, Tim had forgiven them, or was somehow able to look past it all. Time and again, he had demonstrated how he was the better man, looking past himself and helping others, even complete strangers. Sanctuary was a testament to Tim’s humanity and generous spirit, a second chance for the broken.

 

Clarice hadn’t really realised it until she was forced to slow down and was finally able to take in the day to day activities of the Settlement. Liberated Slaves were arriving every couple of days and greeted with open arms by Species that should have been their natural rivals.

 

Clarice sniffled and then hurriedly palmed away the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Tim had created the home Clarice had been dreaming of since childhood, she just hadn’t taken the time to appreciate it.

 

“Sweet, give, you?” A little Goblin girl asked, offering Clarice a juicy apple with both hands.

 

“Thanks,” Clarice gratefully accepted the apple and took a bite, savouring the sweet juice as it rolled over her tongue before she began to chew the flesh.

 

“Can, touch?” The Goblin child asked curiously while pointing to Dhizi

 

“Sure,” Clarice agreed, earning a bright excited smile in return.

 

The little Goblin girl tenatatively patted Dhizi’s nose, “Is pretty!” She declared happily while tracing her finger around one of Dhizi’s larger scales.

 

Dhizi gave a throaty rumble in appreciation, nuzzling the Goblin’s chest before settling back down again.

 

The excited Goblin’s cries attracted the other children. Within minutes Dhizi was being inundated with tiny scraps of meat from the children’s pockets while other children climbed over her back or hung tight to her lazily wagging tail while shrieking in excitement.

 

Even though she was past due to return to the hospital, Clarice decided to stay a while longer. The childrens’ laughter was helping with her melancholic mood. Deciding that it would do her more good to be an active participant, Clarice sent one of the older children to have an adult fetch Dhizi’s saddle and a sled so she could give the children rides around the orchard.

 

The chorus of eager and excited cries from the children was enough to make Clarice seriously consider making the rides a part of her rehabilitation routine.

 

After being thoroughly brushed down by the horde of children afterwards, and having her scales sparkling like a pile of treasure in the sun, Clarice could tell that Dhizi was inclined to agree.