Hohza’s heart swelled when a turn in the road brough the Keep into view.  He took in a deep breath.  Although the air was laced with the stench of the moat which bore too much of the staff’s waste despite the goblins’ filtration systems, it was nonetheless refreshing to the battle wearied orc.  His head swam with the things to discuss with his teacher, so many he scarcely knew where to begin.  

“You’re quite proud of your Dread Lord, aren’t you,” Bonnelle asked, riding beside Hohza.  She bounced in her saddle with each step. Her feet didn’t even reach the stirrups but she rode well enough.

She would be a good place to start, Hohza decided.

Aware his gaze had lingered too long, Hohza cleared his throat.  Raising his arm dramatically, he pointed at the fortress.  “Behold! The Keep of the great and powerful Dread Lord Withering Sorrows!”

“May their name be sung at the end of all things,” Bonnelle countered. It was a formality few honored these days. 

“I shall sing the loudest.” The flatness of his tone made him wince.

 Laughing, Bonnelle trotted ahead of him and then stopped beside the road.   As he passed, eyeing her warily, she leaned forward.  “You’re hardly the first orc I’ve met who didn’t like their Dread Lord.  In fact, in the World of Light, few of us like our kings, mayors, or bosses.” 

“In the World of Light you can depose a king, move to a different city, or simply find a different job.  I’ve few options with a Dread Lord, for they are my master.” He remembered Gohta rode not far behind on his shaggy buffalo.  “And a great one at that,” he added with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.  Gohta coughed in acknowledgement.

After Hohza passed, very purposefully staring straight ahead as he did, she caught up. “Maybe your scenario isn’t as different as you think.  It sounds like Toran is the sort of man who recognizes the position he’s in.”

“Yes; a silly one.  He’s being arrested for the crime of teaching the girl who grew to become a threat to Yendell’s power.” Hohza rolled his eyes.  “Also known as tax evasion, apparently.”

“That’s what the Lieutenant wants.  I don’t think he grasps how little his wants matter now.  The doctor wasn’t your Dread Lord’s prisoner, but his companion! That means the Dread Lord won’t honor Yendell’s request to turn him over if he doesn’t want to go.”

“Then I suppose the Lieutenant would make them do it?”

Bonnelle threw her head back.  Sweat droplets caught in her hair glittered when they caught the sun.  “Ha! The Lieutenant brought a sizable force, but it’s not nearly enough to impose their will on a wraith or their army. No, then Toran gets to unilaterally negotiate the terms of his surrender. I’m sure that if you let the doctor know you wanted to come along, he could arrange it.  I meant what I said last night. You’re very marketable as learned orc warrior.” She bit her lower lip, white buck teeth against dark grey flesh.  “But also, I’d really like to continue debating the finer points of Pre-Consolidation Dwarven Epic Poetry, even if the nights are a little brighter there.”

…

When they arrived at the gates they were met by a troll.  He held a sign which read: Invaders come this way!  Beside him, a waiting goblin truck sputtered. The goblin drivers in front dozed while workers were unloading crates of food and drink, ingredients for this evening’s feast.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was a trap,” Kornin said. He dismounted his horse, who looked as haggard as though he’d carried a troll.

“Definitely suspicious,” Ayara said. She strode past the sign to join Kornin.  

Renaut peeked out from one of Kornin’s satchels. “I don’t know if you two are joking or not. This is the Land of Darkness, you know!”

From the other side of the bag, Henri asked “will there be overripe fruit? I could really go for that, even if it is in a trap!”

“Quit being such cowards.  It’s not like I haven’t walked into a trap before,” Bonnelle said as she rejoined her companions. 

“That’s not something to brag about.” Kornin shook his head.

Before they walked into a side door, just inside the outer gate, the Rude Rubies paused.

“Remember what I told you, Hohza,” Bonnelle said.

“I’ll see you at the banquet, Tad,” Ayara shouted.

Both Hohza and Tad, on their horse and boar, respectively, watched the company of adventurers disappear into the Keep.  From the way they both sighed, Hohza knew he shared something with the goblin.  They got off their animals and walked them to the stables, weaving between the incoming soldiers as they did.

Bigrummar, his war party, and Gohta cut through the crowd. Several were mounted.  Gohta’s face lacked cheer while he skulked toward them.  Just in cae, Hohza got in front of Tad. “Be ready to ride your boar,” he whispered to the boy.  Not wanting to aggravate the situation he didn’t reach for his sword while they were surrounded. 

“We lost,” Bigrummar said.

“It was a stalemate.  More important is that we lived.”

“Lived by losing!” Bigrummar pounded his fist against his chest.  He was unarmed, not that it meant much for a troll.

“By capturing half the enemy force.”  Hohza gestured at Tad.  “Had it not been for Toran’s interference, we may well have forced them to surrender outright.”

“The maybe we ought to take out our loss on that elf!” Bigrummar raised up his hands and puffed his chest.

“Did you just propose an assault on the Dread Lord’s friend?” When he turned, Hohza saw Tad already in the saddle, ready to ride off with Keg.  “And they call me mad?”

“Haha. Yes. Or no? Whichever doesn’t make anyone angry? Or at least the fewest?” The boy’s the further he rambled the harsher his voice cracked.

The orcs laughed.  They were hesitant at first but then broke into something hearty.  Bigrummar’s face reddened.  His arms shook from holding tight fists.  He turned and walked away. His War Party followed, and Gohta was with them.

“Gohta,” Hohza yelled.  His friend halted.  “You are with me.”

The rotund orc continued with the other group.  “I prefer to keep the company of my own kind.  I will see you tonight, War Master Hohza.”

 

…

Hohza and Tad entered the Dread Lord’s aptly named Red Library.  Hohza caught the boy’s gasp and glanced down to see his gawping smile.  Although only of the Dread Lord’s three libraries, with the smallest collection, it had received the greatest effort to furnish.    

The Doctor’s skin, redder than his niece’s, blended in with the décor.  He rose from a sofa of plush red cushions framed by stained wood.  He set a book down on a small round table, causing a teacup to rattle in its saucer as he did.  After noticing Tad at Hohza’s side, Toran straightened his smile and walked with more reserved strides.  He stopped before Hohza, glanced at Tad, and cleared his throat. “A most remarkable performance, Hohza. My congratulations to you and your War Party.”

Hohza shook his mentor’s hand.  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

The elf patted his pupil’s shoulder while craning his neck to look past him.  “My niece isn’t with you?”

“She and her comrades are preparing for tonight’s feast,” Hohza said.

“That feast! It’s been quite the bother since the wraith’s call.” Toran retreated into the room, with Hohza and Tad following.  “Withering Sorrows has been conjuring ingredients, decorations, and other niceties from the depths of his stores for the past two days.  Did you know he has goblins trained in dressmaking for just this sort of occasion? You should have seen them interrogate the Lieutenant for Bonnelle and Ayara’s measurements!”

“Almost made me feel sorry for him.” Glum sat on a footrest.  From there he made Tad freeze under his glare.  “I told you to run and hide.”  Glum threw himself from the footrest to embrace the boy. “But instead you went and won a war all by yourself!” He sobbed. “At least you do a remar

“Some would even say he’s a War Master, now.” Hohza chuckled.

“I never told them I was a War Master!”

“It’s quite alright, Tad.  You earned the praise and more.  I must acknowledge, however, that this victory occurred through the independent actions of others, including a member of my War Party.”

“I’d do it again,” Glum barked.

“As would I,” Toran said.

“Of that I’ve no doubt.  Do keep in mind that I value you as advisors.  If you’ve alternate ideas, then let me know them so that I have the benefit of your advice. Glum, you are my subordinate so don’t think you can treat me in any way you’d disapprove of from him.  Tad, listen to Glum and leave the fighting to me.  Toran?”

“Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

…

The floor of the dining hall was covered in crimson carpet.  Hohza’s toes squished into the pile with each step. The tailor goblins had stuffed him into a light blue doublet with shoulders that flared like little wings and tan colored pants that made a scratching noise with each step.  He remained barefoot because there were no dress shoes for orcs.   He looked up and saw his distorted reflection in the vaulted ceiling of cream inlaid with gold.  Hanging from it were three grand chandeliers, each sporting dozens of candles and hundreds of crystals.  Across the room was a great glass wall and door which opened onto the balcony.  Moonlight made the white stone platform shine blue, lighting the night outside.  Past it was a view of the Hangman’s Forest and the tower of the Prison of Eternal Suffering rising from its center.  It was an odd sight, given it was dozens of floors up and Hangman’s Forest was north of the Keep; yet no stairs had been climbed and the banquet door opened westward. 

Hohza approached the table set in the middle of the room. Its marble surface of swirling white and black were reminiscent of Bonnelle’s stone-toned skin.  Nestled among decanters, serving dishes, and candelabras was a chest.  Hohza flipped it open.  Someone had crammed the enchanted lures inside.  He glanced at the head of the table,  where Dread Lord’s throne of jagged black rock was set.  Although Bonnelle hadn’t managed to win any of the lures, she would be granted the honor or returning them to the Dread Lord during dinner.   He fished the Eggfinity, still wrapped in its velvet bag, from his trouser pocket.   After dropping the bag into the box, he snapped it shut.

Toran brought the rest of Hohza’s War Party, as well as Bigrummar and his allies, into the dining hall.  He directed them to their seats at the far end of the table and pepper them with last minute tips on etiquette.  Bigrummar boasted about how he’d torn a button from his vest to make sure his prized feather could be seen.  “It’s important for a War Master to display the trophies of their victories,” the big troll said.

Hohza moved to join the other warriors, but Toran grabbed the right sleeve of his doublet.  “You’ll be at the head of the table.”

They’d been seated only a short while when a small army of orcs and goblins, all wearing white uniforms, entered the room and finalized the place settings by laying down utensils and one placed a tall cushion in the seat across from Hohza.  One chair was removed altogether and replaced with a bar stool made more presentable by throwing a tablecloth over it.  Once they were done the workers retreated.   

Then two trolls and a goblin raced for the door.  The trolls stood on either side of it and the goblin in front. After getting everyone’s attention by blowing into a horn, the goblin cleared his throat.  With a surprisingly deep voice, he began his announcements. “On this night, the great and powerful Dread Lord Withering Sorrows welcomes his guests from the World of Light! Please stand as these champions, representing the nation and capital city of Yendell, grace us with their presence!”

The trolls pulled the doors open and in walked the two sprites.  Dressed in their robes, freshly cleaned they seemed like piles of colorful rags shuffling along the ground.

“First, we have wanderers of the Five Sprite Tribes and members of the Rude Rubies, brother and sister Henri and Renaut!”

After a quick bow, the pair waited.  Ayara and Kornin sauntered into the room and stood.  The man elf, fidgeting with his cuffs, seemed as uncomfortable in his attire as Hohza felt.

“Formerly a Corporal of the Third Fairlaigh Militia and now a member of the Rude Rubies, I present Kornin Asbayar.”  Kornin made a deep bow. His long white hair spilled over his face as he did.  While he was low, he extended his left arm to the floor so the sprites could climb into his palm.

“With him is the niece of our esteemed Doctor Toran, also formerly a Corporal of the Third Fairlaigh Militia, and member of the Rude Rubies, is Ayara!”  The girl curtsied.  She wore a purple dress that covered much with its flowing, loose cloth. A small pink bag hung from a strap around her right shoulder. She beamed at uncle and waved to Tad. 

“Next, we have a Lieutenant of the Yendell Army, Osuan Chrincha!”

As Toran’s magic hadn’t fully healed his legs, the Lieutenant limped into the room while using his staff weapon for a walking stick.  Perhaps in the World of Light he wouldn’t be allowed to tote a weapon to dinner with a sovereign. Likewise, Ayara wouldn’t be allowed to keep her gloves in that purse.  It wasn’t as though an assassination attempt against a Dread Lord would be anything less than a spectacular failure.

“Finally, we have Chief Security Officer of the Rhodian Jewelry Company, head of the Rude Rubies, and the lead of this Invasion of the Dread Lord Withering Sorrows’ domain, Lady Bonnelle Rhodian of the Deep Shine!”

The room brightened upon Bonnelle’s arrival.  Her red hair, piled over her head, made the crimson floor seem dull and unremarkable.  The elegant, jeweled necklace around her thick neck shone.  Below that necklace were her shoulders, round and bare, and a chest that pushed the golden dress’s limits.  Her lips were painted dark red, reminding him of luscious wine.  As she glided along the carpet her hips rolling with each step.  When she looked about, her violet eyes sparkled in the chandeliers’ light like two big amethysts.  She exchanged pleasantries with her comrades and then they approached the table. 

Hohza’s mouth hung open while he watched Bonnelle.

“Perhaps try something verbal,” Toran whispered.

As Bonnelle sashayed towards him Hohza struggled to find the right words to say.  He’d read this in books; a man seeing a woman and being dumbstruck by her mere presence.  The scenario had seemed silly to him.  He was a warrior.  He could face armies without losing his wits, lest he’d lose his life.  Such nonsense could never matter. Yet here he was, breathlessly telling her “you look lovely” as she walked past him.  He winced, feeling the compliment inadequate.  What poetic greetings had the men in those books given, he wondered.  Perhaps those stories had never not mattered.

Bonnelle’s seat was on the opposite side of the table, directly across from him.  A goblin slid steps to the chair so she climb to her seat.  She settled, followed by the rest of her companions.  Lieutenant Chrincha was on her right, nearest the Dread Lord’s throne at the head.  On her left was the dressed stool, where Kornin placed the sprites.  Then Kornin took his place next in the line. Ayara was on his left, closest to the monsters.  Tad introduced her to Glum in a high voice, excitedly yammering about each other’s accomplishments as they shook hands.

Toran leaned to Hohza.  “Amazing the effect a woman can have on a man, isn’t it,” he whispered into his ear.

“Doctor, I don’t think we’ve quite the same designs.”

“I’m sure you don’t. Just know they don’t all have to be, well, you know.” He lifted a glass of wine to Bonnelle. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Rhodian.”

She twirled her hair.  Her arms were covered in corn silk colored gloves.  “An honor to meet you, Doctor Toran.  Although we’ve just met, you’ve made my life interesting the past couple of months.”

The Lieutenant grunted.  He tilted his head to the throne on his right.  “Where is our host?”

The goblin and orcs at the entrance retreated.  Immediately after, the Dread Lord blazed into existence in the throne at the head of the table.  While the Lieutenant held up one hand to shield himself from the flames, Bonnelle watched the display, utterly nonplussed.

When the fire died the Dread Lord sat in their throne. Boney hands wrapped in ink gripped the jagged armrests and their head tilted to the side.  The little lights in their eyes blinked in momentary confusion as the wraith looked at the Lieutenant, then at Bonnelle just past him.  “Lady Rhodian, it is a tremendous honor for you to finally grace us with your presence.  Your exploits are renown in these lands.”

The dread lord clapped their hands together. “First course,” they shouted.  Orcs placed bowls of soup for the before the diners. The sprites were given just one bowl for the two of them.  With his serving pinched between his fingertips, Bigrummar opened his mouth and swallowed the soup in one gulp.  Tad slurped from a spoon and elicited giggles from Ayara and a shaking head from Glum.

After some light chit-chat among the guests while they ate their soup, the Dread Lord spoke up.  “Lady Rhodian, I must congratulate you on a campaign well waged despite my soldiers’ ineptitude. It must have been most trying for one as experienced as you,” the Dread Lord cast a sidelong glance at Hohza.

“Your soldiers performed remarkably! Kornin and I have defended Fairlaigh against invasion from the Nazraz Cult and the Gibbering Hordes yet were never so tested,” Ayara countered.  She leaned into Kornin’s left arm.  “Isn’t that right, love.”

“I prefer not to think about Nazraz,” Kornin mumbled.

Chrincha frowned.  “Ignore the girl.  She should be as ashamed of being captured.”

“Is that what Yendell is teaching its officers now? Shame? It’s about time, I say.”  By not looking away from his glass of wine, Toran missed the Lieutenant’s bristling silence.

“I’m liking your uncle,” Kornin whispered to Ayara through his smile.

“Speaking of officers,” Bonnelle suddenly piped.  She leaned across Chrincha to win the Dread Lord’s attention. “You certainly have a unique curriculum for yours.  War Master Hohza must be the most well-read man I’ve met!”

“Well-read for an orc, you mean,” Chrincha grumbled.  He pulled his head back to avoid Bonnelle’s hair in his face. 

“Is he, now?”  The Dread Lord stared at Hohza, boring into the orc with those pinprick lights floating in their eye sockets.  Did they see into Hohza’s mind, how he wished he had Bonnelle crawling across him? “I must admit the credit belongs to the doctor.  Every couple broods he finds some orc or troll with what he calls ‘potential.’ I let him indulge it.  As you can see, the results can be interesting.”  Withering Sorrows’ shoulders bobbed as they let off a hearty chuckle.  “He once taught a troll to paint! It was the most ridiculous thing!”

Now it was Toran’s turn to bristle.

“He’s been a good companion for nearly a millennium,” the Dread Lord said.  “It will be a shame to part with him.  Please tell me, Lady Rhodian, what could be the reason for dragging Doctor Toran back to Yendell now?”

Bonnelle sat in her seat with her arms folded across her chest.  She and Chrincha exchanged glances.  Raising his nose, Chrincha stated: “I am not at liberty to divulge that information with you, Dread Lord.”

While her red lips in a sultry pout Bonnelle rolled her eyes.  “That’s why he asked me, Lieutenant.” She took a deep breath, her mouth wide open, but just as she was about to speak the Dread Lord raised their hand.

“Just a moment,” they said.  With everyone’s soup finished the Dread Lord clapped their hands together.  A roasted pig was laid on the table along with vegetables, mountains of rice, and so many sauces and fixies they could be a meal unto themselves. 

Hohza and Bonnelle were in heated competition to have their plates the most loaded with food, much to the annoyance of the uniformed orcs serving them.  Neither could turn away another heaping of mashed yams or slice of pork.  Finally, they were presented with an oozing dish which resembled a giant slug which Hohza wouldn’t hazard.  Bonnelle took a serving.  She leaned close and breathed deep.  She tore a chunk of it with her fork and jammed it into her mouth, barely chewing before she swallowed it. Lt. Chrincha gagged at the display.  “Stuffed cave crawler! Dread Lord, I’ve not tasted one so good since leaving the Deep Shine! Your chefs are remarkable!”

“I will pass on your compliments, Lady Rhodian.”

Hohza beckoned for some of the stuffed crawler.

After a hearty swig of moonberry wine, which lacked the fizz of the cider, Bonnelle dabbed some sauce on a roll and crammed it into her mouth. “Now, as for why we’re here to collect Doctor Toran,” her words were muffled as she spoke around half-chewed bread.

Chrincha forcefully cleared his throat.

Bonnelle gulped down the roll. “Shut it, Lieutenant! Our host wants conversation, so we’ll converse!” She batted her eyes at the Dread Lord.  “Officially, we’ve been contracted to bring in Toran to pay an unspecified amount of taxes.  Mind you, there’s no possible way that amount could rival the combined cost of the Rude Rubies’ fee and the resources the military used to escort us here.”

“What is the unofficial reason? Speculatively, of course.”

The dwarf looked to Toran, then down the table at Ayara, who very purposefully hid her face from her boss, and finally at Chrincha.  “Based on inside sources, hearsay, and confirmed rumors, this all relates to The Sorceress, a woman named Harnen Brokenshield.  She’s become something of a nuisance to Yendell, stirring up malcontents with notions of equity and even rebellion.”

“Sounds like one of your pupils, Doctor.” Although they barely turned their head to do so, the Dread Lord smirked at Toran. “Although dwarves aren’t inclined to call themselves sorcerers, that’s a rather dwarven name.”

“The horrid woman is a half breed; part elf and part dwarf,” the Lieutenant responded, his lips puckered as though tasting something sour.

“She was a lovely girl,” Toran responded. 

“I was always rather jealous of her, well, I’ll just say she had a very human figure,” Ayara admitted.  She blushed as her eyes darted to her chest.

There was a meager plate of food set before the Dread Lord.  As wraiths didn’t eat, the serving was ornamental.  The Dread Lord played with the steam rising from the plate by sweeping their hand across it to make strands swirl about their fingers.  Finally, hands clasped together, Withering Sorrows responded in a peevish tone, like when the War Council gave ill-advised advice. “What does it matter that he taught her? While he can inspire a troll to paint or an orc to write poems, Doctor Toran is hardly the one to train someone to be a powerful magician.  Why not seek one of the woman’s more advanced instructors?  Further, I can assure you that he’s not been directing her uprising from here. I’ve not seen him do more than order books from the World of Light in the past few hundred years!”

“He certainly doesn’t bother to keep in touch with his family,” Ayara muttered.

Toran flinched at his niece’s remark but didn’t comment on it.  “It’s true, I only gave her the most rudimentary of instruction.  The girl had tremendous talents and I could scarcely keep pace with it. She exceeded my ability to teach her long before we separated.  I’m sure she’s learned considerably more since then.” He sighed.  “If Yendell is fixed on me it’s because they believe I’ve a particular bond with her they wish to exploit.”

 “Go on,” Bonnelle cooed.

Ayara burst from her chair.  “As I’d understood it, the two of you never … I mean she wanted to, but you didn’t.”

There was something playful to the Dread Lord’s sneer now. In council meetings it always seemed peevish or cruel. For the first time, Hohza felt he’d glimpsed something of Toran and Withering Sorrows’ friendship.  “Doctor, if I’d known the tale of your leaving Yendell was so tawdry I would have insisted on more detail!”

“There is no tawdriness to tell, nor relationship to exploit.” Toran glared at the Lieutenant.  “She was quite fond of me.  I retained my professionalism.”

“Professional or not, Harnen was a part of your household for some three hundred and fifty years, Doctor.  Further, our spies in her movement, The Shields, have reported that she speaks fondly of those times.”

A forkful of food poised just before her mouth, Ayara paused and showed a wistful smile.  “Our family felt so complete back then.”  She set the fork down with a clatter and then covered her eyes with her right hand.  “Then she destroyed it.”

Toran’s face was a firm, bitter countenance.  “Harnen did not destroy our family.  It was the small-minded people of Yendell who forced us to leave!”

Lt. Chrincha picked at his rice.  It was stained yellow from all the spices and mixed with dried fruit, nuts, and chunks of pork.  Hohza read of this traditional Yendell dish which hotel kitchens were able to cheaply prepare it in large quantities.  The heavy spices kept it from spoiling fast.  “Is your contempt for the people of Yendell why you refused your summons?”

“Summons?” Hohza, Toran, and the Dread Lord spoke simultaneously.

“Yes! We knew the doctor was somewhere in the Dark Lands because of his occasional orders of books, furniture, and foods from the World of Light.  However, we couldn’t determine which domain because records become scarce as soon as the goods arrive at the docks.” The Lieutenant lifted a spoonful of rice to his mouth and slowly consumed the serving. 

“Dread Lord Joyful Lament has a small but powerful domain which manages most deliveries throughout this land. They live in relative security as no other Dread Lord dares disrupt the service nor would consider running it themselves,” Withering Sorrows said.  “I shall have to thank them for their discretion, as well.”

“It’s mostly goblins who run those deliveries.  Their machines works are very advanced because they’re focused entirely on shipping and receiving,” Glum said.

“Nobody cares, old man.” Bigrummar guffawed.  With each heaving laugh his chest pushed from his vest and presented the golden feather which rested over it. His laughs died when he finally noticed that all eyes were on him.  “What?”

Heat wafted from the Dread Lord.  They tapped their fingers against the armrests and leaned forward.  The sneer lacked any playfulness.  “Where did you get that feather, Bigrummar, and what happened to the message that came from the bird you took it from?”