"So, the thief pushed my brother off a cliff and none of you fools managed to catch him!?"

"Catch the thief or the brother? Chief?"

The stocky chieftain slammed his boulder-like fists onto the table, causing the surrounding horned warriors to flinch. They held their breath as their leader slowly got up from his cross-legged position, and scanned them all individually, as though realising how nice the heads of his men would look once they decorated the village walls. A suffocating curtain of silence had now descended onto the tent.

"Chief!" A particularly brave warrior protested "We couldn't pursue him even if we wanted to! He fled into the Sacred Boundary!"

"And not a single one of you was able to hit him?" The chief retorted, without even bothering to look at him. "Did any of you even consider using your arrows? Hah? I could hear your yelling from within the village walls for heaven's sake! Did you all seriously think that screaming at him would force him to stop!?"

He laughed mirthlessly as they silently bowed their heads. However, the bold individual piped up again.

"Chief, we did manage to injure his leg. But the measly human was slippery, and he was aided... by some of our... p-prisoners..."

His voice began to falter as the eyes of his leader suddenly bore into his. The other warriors were grateful that their stupid comrade was speaking on their behalf, but now, they were all inwardly screaming at him to shut up.

"How many...?" The chieftain's voice had grown dangerously quiet and steely. "How many slaves escaped alongside him?"

"S-Seven..." The horned warrior said, now quivering pitifully "I think..."

A single word now occupied the warrior's frozen brain. But even that was unable to finish itself.

Shhhiiii---!

Five strong fingers gripped the warrior by the face, picking him up briefly, before slamming him headfirst into the cracked dirt ground. The rest could only close their eyes solemnly as the sound of his horn snapping was quickly replaced by agonized screaming. He had taken one for the team, and at this point, they could only pay their respects to his family. Hopefully, this was enough to quell the chief's anger. But it was already quite clear that there was more to come.

"Humans!" the chieftain roared, throwing his table aside. "Have we proud Ogres fallen so far that we cannot even overpower humans!? Wealth and riches have made us grow soft! We've become as money-grubbing as the very creatures our ancestors have fought against for centuries! And things only continue to get worse! Had a shred of honour still resided within me, I would have long since slit my own throat! In fact," He drew a massive blade resting by his side and raised it to his neck. "I wouldn't even hesitate to do it now!"

"Chief!" A handful of warriors cried, as they broke out of their terrified trance and rushed forwards. "Please! You must reconsider!"

"Silence! Stay away if you value your miserable liv--!"

The commotion suddenly ceased, as one of the chieftain's wives made her way into the large tent, carrying a silver tray and teapot. They all stood there, momentarily frozen by the unexpected turn of events. The woman was quite tall; dressed in a long red robe embroidered with black serpents and dragons, which accented her flowing white hair. Strapped to her waist was a sheathed blade that seemed to glow red in the lanternlight. 

"Apologies for any disruption my dears, but--" Her sharp but kindly eyes wandered around the tent for a few seconds, pausing briefly on the overturned table, then onto her husband, who awkwardly returned her gaze as he put down one of the ogres he was preparing to throw. "--Oh my...."

The chieftain returned the table to its previous position and sighed, sitting down cross-legged. He couldn't stay mad at them now that she was here, and knowing this, his men followed suit, gazing dreamily at their celestial saviour. 

"Thank you, my love," he muttered, taking a teacup in his calloused hand and sipping. "You saved my life."

"I'm glad I could be of some use, darling," She replied softly "This tea is a special brew. A gift from the people of Fleuwagia. You don't mind if I join you, do you?"

"Do as you please," he said, his eyes watching her from the side.

As the head wife moved to kneel behind him, the chieftain and his men all had the same thought in mind. Swords and women were truly a match made in heaven. 

"So, back to business," he began, addressing the warriors sitting before him. "A Fleuwagian nobleman is expecting fifty of our prisoners to be sold as slaves by next week and nothing less. We're blockading this village for the time being until we find them."

"But Chief! The other slave merchants..."

"The thief barely took anything of value and prioritized freeing the prisoners. He even killed my brother!" The chieftain continued, ignoring him. "If he is leading those escapees, then he must be struggling to supply them. And he is a fool if he thinks he can hide them."

The chieftain turned to one of his messengers.

"Did our patrols receive the message?"

"Yes, Chief." The messenger replied, "No one has left our domain since last night,"

"Good. They cannot hide in this small forest forever. And his appearance?"

"I'm afraid that the only one who saw the thief clearly, was the Second Chief."

*Clink*

The chieftain's teacup handle broke. Curse his incompetent brother. Had he seriously been defeated by a mere human?

"You're telling me," He said, eyes flashing in rage "That not a single one of you managed to catch a glimpse of him!?"

He was about to stand up again, but the slender hand that had placed itself on his shoulder calmed him down. His wife was right, he really needed to keep his composure in front of his men.

Massaging his front horn, the chieftain accepted the new cup of tea and turned back to his warriors.

"Lock down the village and send out search parties. We will not stop until we find the escapees. If you find this upstart, capture him alive and bring him to me. Those are my orders. Now get out of my sight,"

His men got up and bowed, before leaving the tent in a hurry. The chieftain propped himself with up his sword, his other calloused hand resting in his head wife's tender palm. He noticed that the ring he'd given her when they had first married was still on her finger. The chieftain had to admit, there was a certain sort of charm behind some of these backward human traditions.

Personally, he'd never place these restraints on his fingers, no matter how high quality the metal was. He doubted any would fit him anyway. However, the smile the head wife had on her face when he'd gifted it to her was one that he would remember forever.

"Turan, will you promise me you'll  return to the village soon?" She asked, staring up at his hardened eyes. "Our daughters already miss you. And our son should be returning from the mountains tomorrow."

"Yes. However, I must ask the Mirror Shaman for permission to enter the Sacred Boundary. There is another promise I must keep first."

The chieftain spread his arms, allowing her to straighten his garments and fit his armour back on. 

"I swear, I will avenge you, Brother,"