Kruegar stared out over his hall—a hall with trampled flags across the floor. Nine orc chieftains, and one half-troll chieftain, all waited in places of ‘honor,’ their own shamans next to them. Human and elf slaves, as well as orc warriors, filled his hall with their murmuring at the newest petitioner to come see him.

            His three true allies stood behind him—Liam, Jeremy, and Victor.

            There were over a hundred others in total, filling the room from one wall to the other in front of them.

            Kruegar shifted around in his bone throne. He leaned over onto the armrest, and glanced sideways to his second-in-command, Liam. The little goblin body felt like it fit him—Liam was a cunning man, but not exactly brave.

            “This is the one who wanted to see me?” Kruegar asked in disgust.

A single orc stood at the head of the processional line.

            Liam nodded his tiny green goblin head.

            Kruegar eyed the orc again—it was a disturbing sight, but one you couldn’t look away from. Like one of those horrible YouTube videos about gross medical disasters. The orc had a swollen, infected wound across his face, from left ear to the middle of his cheek. One that was leaking… something. Everyone nearby was pulling back from the orc in obvious horror at the odor.

            The orc stumbled forward, his eyes glassy, perspiration falling down his forehead. He tried to bow and ended up crashing to the floor. He raised his head, and further pus wept down from the freshly reopened wound.

            “What brings you here, worm?” Kruegar asked, sitting forward in the bone throne.

            “I bear news,” the orc said, surprising Kruegar, who had suspected he’d ask for mercy or healing.

            “What news? What could be worth coming here with that across your face?”

            “I’ll die soon, no doubt, but I wanted to warn you. I followed Chargath Bone-Eater, who sought to establish a new clanhold now that the great dragon, Chao, is gone. On the Blue River.”

            Kruegar vaguely remembered that was on the near-opposite side of the Inner Sea from him, from going over maps in strategy sessions with Liam and Jeremy.

            Chow? The dragon Chow? Kruegar almost laughed out loud at that.

            “We were destroyed,” the orc muttered. “We were destroyed by humans… Humans led by an elf.”

            Jeers and shouts of anger filled the hall, the orcs going cray with rage. Shouts of “Coward!” and “Weakling!” of “Filth!” and “It’s good you’ll die!” rang out.

            “Led by an elf who rode a ghost wolf!” the orc cried, rising to his feet in anger, then swaying and almost collapsing.

            The orcs went silent at this.

            What the fuck is a ghost wolf? But Kruegar could tell that it meant something to the orcs here, and he would reveal himself as an interloper if he asked.
            “You lie to purge your failure,” an orc in the crowds shouted.

            “I saw it! I saw it when they brought me before him, along with the few other orcs captured. He threatened us all if we returned to Averia. He claimed to be the King of Averia, and he rode a ghost wolf!”

            The hall was in chaos, with orcs shouting at each other over this development.

            One of the chieftains who served under Kruegar, Gorg Skulltaker of the Burz Clan, stepped forward. He was another of the numerous children of Grakith Demonborn. He was a horror, far worse than Kruegar, with bones sticking out from his flesh at his fingers and toes, forming wicked claws, and jutting from his back as the world’s most punk-looking spines, like the hair of a ridiculous ’80s-style spiked mohawk.

            “This cannot be allowed to stand!” Gorg yelled. “Someone should destroy them, or claim their land and take them as slaves!”

            And leave the realm of my authority, Kruegar thought. So as to establish a new clanhold for yourself. I think not.

            “It’s almost four hundred miles away, and few ships are left here in Red Port,” Kruegar said, cold and collected. “How would you move your armies?”

            Gorg held his hand up, and then stared at his fingers, brow furrowed. His confusion was so obvious that Kruegar expected the words ‘fatal error’ to appear over his head. Given the bizarre notification system, it wouldn’t be the most unusual thing about this world.

Before Gorg could answer, the petitioning orc asked managed to ground out through gritted teeth, “Surely, you’ll not let this new elf king, King Leo Evans, go unpunished for his transgressions against your brother?”

Wait, what?

The name hit him like a slap across the face.

Kruegar stood from his bone throne, his blood running cold. “What?” he asked in a deadly menacing voice. “Say that name again.” He had to be certain.

The orc quailed before him. “I-I didn’t mean to question your courage, your mightiness. I just—”

“No, what was his name?”

“Um, King Leo Evans, your mightiness.”

The wretch! Kruegar thought, unable to stop himself from smirking. That stupid little fuck that got Hector and Jason killed! He’s here and running a kingdom!

Kruegar’s blood ran cold. And he’s not just the killer of my men—he also represents the only other person with knowledge of advanced technology. A man that could oppose my plans, and ruin me and my brothers.

Kruegar slowly sat down, his gaze unfocused. “I appreciate your work…”

As his words trailed off, the orc spoke. “Marglaz, your mightiness.”

“Sure. Marglaz. I appreciate your work, Marglaz. I will have one of my healers see to your face. I would speak with my council tomorrow about how to deal with this fool who opposes us.”

***

            “It’s still four hundred miles!” Kruegar shouted, slamming his fist on the wooden table that occupied the center of the torchlight council hall—much smaller than the massive reception hall he had been in, and less ostentatious. “If every ship we had was dedicated to bringing food, we could feed about a thousand or so to go fight him. I have no idea if that would be enough if he destroyed two hundred already. Would you see the strengths of the clanholds wasted on a futile attack?”

            The chieftains, seated around the table, glanced at each other and shrugged. A elorc—half-elf, half-orc—slave brought in a platter of roasted swamp gator and placed it on the table. He tried to leave but the half-troll chieftain grabbed the him by his waist, pulling him closer. The elorc yelped, cowered, and trembled at the cheiftain’s touch, but made no attempt to escape.

            “Then would you leave this insult to fester?” the troll asked, leaning forward as he reached his bone-clawed hand around, grasping the elorc by the chest. “Would you do nothing, like a coward?”

            Never. Leo will die. But this plan is suicide, and I need something better, even if it’s longer term.

            “And the other thousand or so chieftains?” Kruegar asked drily. “Their honor isn’t impugned?”

            Bone-Troll looked confused.

            “Their honor isn’t insulted?” Kruegar asked again, this time in simpler language.

            There was a knock at door, surprising Kruegar. He’d asked not to be disturbed. Given how Blood Tribe chieftains—especially those that were of the brood of Grathink Demonborn—conducted themselves, he figured the demand would have been honored.

            “Yes?” Kruegar asked, holding back his building rage.

            The door opened, and Marglaz the orc stepped in. “I’m deeply sorry to disturb you, your mightiness, but there’s someone here… well, kinda here… that I think you should meet. She says she wants to hire us to, um… kill the elf king.”

            What? Someone already wants Leo dead? And wants to pay me to do it? It can’t be this easy.

            “Who?”

Margalz must have taken that as permission because he stepped inside. He carried a small glass orb with a grey crystal at top and bottom and silver filigree around it. “The petitioner, your mightiness. Lady Mavis Orsini of Steelport.”

Marglaz held the orb out.

Kruegar stared at it, one eyebrow raised. Did the wound go to this asshole’s head?

A voice floated into his mind as the orb pulsed. It was a feminine voice, but it was hard and edged with ice in his mind. A dangerous voice. It reminded him of the head mistress from his old orphanage, and Kruegar fought back his fear. That was decades ago, Kruegar. You have the power now.

“I am pleased to speak with you, Chieftain Kruegar Bloodhands. I am Mavis Orisini, head of the Orsini trading house in Steelport, and holder of a council seat on Steelport council of houses. Word of your recent exploits, uniting the tribes and taking Port Yuval—”

“Red Port,” Kruegar interrupted out loud.

“Red Port then, has reached my ears. Your port makes things easy. I want to hire you to destroy someone for me.”

“My minion tells me it’s King Leo Evans,” Kruegar said. How did that pathetic little cretin become important, anyway? I mean, he was obviously flailing around when he killed my men, but this…

“No. Although, I assume he needs to die as well. I want you to kill George Orsini, my cousin, and Leo’s seneschal. Also, George’s son, Ty Belmoria.”

Interesting. A family dispute.

“I also want you to capture and enslave three people for me as well—elves or half-elves, all of them, and all of them located in that city. Val Belmoria, Ola Belmoria, and Lily Willowynd. And I want the site of his city once its captured, to make a trading post for my house. They have less people, in total, than you have orc warriors. It should be quite easy.”

No idea who all these people are, but if that number is true, I suspect I can manage to capture them. If…

“Now, wait a minute.” Kruegar smiled to himself. “I want three things in return. The first is payment up front. Two thousand gold. Non-negotiable. My people are my resource, and I won’t expend them without good reason.”

Kruegar noticed a few of his chieftains nodding along, as if what he said was good sense or even good, as opposed to an admission of his own utilitarianism where their lives were concerned. He also assumed that meant the voice was projecting into everyone’s head… although perhaps they were just hearing him speak out loud.

There was a long pause before Mavis answered. “Done.”

“Secondly, I need transport—transport and provisions. I don’t have any ability to get my orcs to the fight.”

“Well, that’s where a trading house comes in handy—and why the port you just seized is important. I can muster the ships necessary to move your entire army into his ridiculously named new city, Star Port. King Evans has no fleet, and no knowledge we’re coming. Two thousand orcs landing in his city of twelve hundred should make incredibly short work of this upstart kingdom and my cousin.”

It looks like Leo made friends in all the wrong places. Just like on Earth. But he did cause me to lose two people… I’ll make sure my brothers stay here and hold Red Port. I don’t want to risk them in combat. This should be fast and easy, a quick payday, then back to building the empire with them.

There was a pause, and they orb spoke again. “What’s your third demand?”

“I want to know why. Not why you want a trade port. That’s obvious. I want to know why you want revenge.”

“That is a private matter.”

“Maybe for everyone else. But I’ll be neck-deep in the blood of your enemies. It’s personal for me now.” Although, in truth, this was always personal. But she doesn’t need to know that.

There was a longer pause before the orb answered. “I have always hated George, for beating me at everything. He was chosen to be the head of the house at an early age. He was the little genius that could do no wrong. Every time one of my organized ships came back with a twenty percent profit, one of his came back with a fifty percent profit. But it was honest competition, until he betrayed the family and then acted like he had won somehow. When he threw away the slaves we purchased, and got rid of the house’s huge potential benefit, then acted all self-righteous… that was the day I began to truly hate him.”

The orb paused, and Kruegar felt her hate, born of frustration and humiliation, emanating from the orb to his mind. That hate I can understand.

Then the orb continued. “But when I have the mother of his children—and his daughter—enslaved in front of him, and seize one of the most valuable trade locations in the world from him at the same time—then, in his heart of hearts, he’ll know I’ve won.”