IDWTBTHQ Chapter 85 - A Beer, a Broad and a Bonfire

The telemancy tower of Brettholz was usually the most tranquil part of the Marquis's palace, as the telemancers needed every bit of peace and quiet they could get to better concentrate on their job.

Right now, however, incredibly loud angry screams came from the tower.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE HAVE TO STAY HERE?” Jones shouted over the twinstone, making the marquis flinch and cover his ears, while the telemancers in the room frantically tried to turn down the volume.

As soon as he had received news of the orcs sighting, the nobleman had decided to personally speak with Jones through the same special equipment he had used to speak with Marcus, months back. He couldn't get visual contact on account of Hoggs being the only one in his service who knew how to operate that part of the magical machinery, but the other telemancers had assured him that they could handle the vocal broadcasting system.

Sadly, it turned out that while they did manage to establish a vocal connection they had no idea how to set the volume to acceptable levels, something which was made worse by Jones panicking and refusing to keep his voice low.

“WE ALREADY FOUND THE ORCS! WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT?” Jones kept screaming, and Eisen felt his whole body shake from the sheer volume of that noise. In response, the marquis gritted his teeth and decided he had enough, grabbing the copper wand that channeled his voice to the twinstone and shouting back some orders.

“Calm down, Jones!” He cried. “And keep your damned voice down! You're making my ears bleed here!”

There was a small pause, and when Jones spoke again, he had stopped screaming. His voice still came out incredibly loud, but this time it was an almost acceptable volume.

“Aye, sir.” He grumbled. “But could you at least tell me what we're  supposed to do here? We found the orcs, so why can't we go back to Brettholz?”

“The issue is that we're looking for an army of orcs, while the one you've seen seems more like a regular tribe, from your report. ” Eisen explained. “And we already knew that there are orcs in the forest, so stumbling on a few of them is nothing noteworthy. What you have to be on the lookout for is a number of orcs great enough to be called an army. Only then, when we'll have proof of the existence of such a threat that doesn't come from just the goblins, we'll be able to call for reinforcements from the capital. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jones replied, albeit in a clearly unsatisfied voice.

“Good.” The marquis said. “And you'll have to be particularly alert from now on. Those orcs you have seen may have been scouts or foragers for a bigger force, in which case you can expect more of them to come in greater numbers.”

There was a small pause, as Jones processed what Eisen had told him.

“Understood.” The telemancer finally replied in a nervous tone. “Uhm... just out of curiosity, you're still going to send my replacement in two days, right?”

“Yes.” Eisen said. “But I'll send him not as a replacement, but as reinforcement.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean that you're staying there for a while longer.” The nobleman explained. “Since you were the first to make contact with the orcs it's likely that they are coming your way, so I'm sending you more people to keep better watch on your area.”

“WHAT?” Jones shouted, making Eisen's ears hurt once again. “MY MISSION WAS TO STAY HERE FOR TWO WEEKS! WHY ARE YOU CHANGING IT!?!”

“Calm the hells down, Jones!” Eisen shouted back angrily. “It is not up to you to question my orders! You just have to follow them!” He paused for a second and then added: “I need more people in our outpost and I've got only another Vex Wyvern to spare for transportation. So having you make the trip back here would leave some of the other guards with no means of escape, which would basically be a death sentence. So you either obey my orders or you explain to your comrades there that you are willing to let them die for your convenience.”

“Aye, sir.” The telemancer replied in a more subsided tone, although he still sounded far from happy. “I'll obey and relay your orders to the others.”

“Good.” Eisen said. “You do that. And keep me informed in case anything else happens.”

After this exchange, the call ended, and the marquis started heading back to his office, followed by his bodyguard. However, as soon as he got down from the telemancy tower he found himself face to face with one of his servants, who was accompanied by none other than Trakk, the Goblin General.

“Excuse me, my lord.” The servant said. “Mister Trakk requested an audience with you. I told him that you were currently occupied in the telemancy tower, but he said that he'd wait for you to be done.”

The marquis mentally groaned, as he had hoped to be done with his duties for the day. However, whatever Trakk had come to discuss was certainly rather important.

“Very well. I can spare some time for him.” He said. “Let's go to my office, shall we General Trakk?”

“Of course, your lordship.” The goblin replied politely. “After you.”

They started walking, seemingly without any animosity or hostility, though the marquis' bodyguard put himself between his liege and the short gray humanoid.

During the winter, Trakk had become a familiar figure in the palace of the marquis, paying visits whenever he and his kin came to trade in town. It had started a few months back, when the leader of the goblins had asked the marquis for the permission to come and sell and buy some goods in the market of Brettholz, and the nobleman had decided to allow it, albeit under strict surveillance.

That had turned out to be a really good call.

Trade had been languishing after the goblin invasion, further increasing the toll on the province's finances, but Trakk's arrival had changed that. It turned out that the goblins had brought a veritable trove of rare and valuable materials from the forest, and in addition to that the Goblin General had proven himself to be a very skilled haggler. During his first visit to the market he had brought some truly impressive wares and sold them at outrageously low prices to various merchants while buying various common goods (like building materials and raw metal) at at least twice the normal price. Word quickly got out about this and a week later, when the goblins came back to Brettholz, many more merchants were there to partake in the chance to take advantage of the goblins' inexperience.

Sadly for those merchants, this had all been part of Trakk's plan.

The goblin had intentionally let himself be ripped off the first time in order to lure more merchants to Brettholz and once the supply and demand ratio had been turned in his favor he started haggling for real, getting a much, much better price this time. That said, he still made sure that the merchants would still profit from the trade in order to make them come back again and he promised to come back with more goods every week, thus creating a steady, regular business and revitalizing Brettholz's market.

And of course, the goblins profits weren't just economical, but also social and political. Not only were the locals slowly getting used to the goblins, since they visited the town every week, but the prosperity they had brought had also greatly improved the humanoids' reputation among the people. Sure, no one trusted them yet, but the open hate and resentment they were initially regarded with had started to dissipate.

It was an impressive achievement indeed, and as a ruler himself Eisen couldn't help but feel admiration for Trakk's skills, not to mention the fact that the goblin was also a really pleasant company, being polite, refined, cultured and a sparkling conversationalist, not to mention a devilish gambler and chess player. And to top it all off, Trakk also offered all kinds of helpful suggestions and advice that inevitably ended up benefiting both Eisen and the province as a whole.

All things considered, it was not a surprise that the marquis always found some time to spare for Trakk, though he still didn't trust him entirely.

They reached the marquis's office in about a minute and, as usual, they sat at the different ends of the room, with the desk between them and the bodyguard standing right next to his liege.

“So, what brings you here, Trakk?” The nobleman asked. “May I offer you some wine, or anything else while we talk?”

“I sincerely thank you marquis Eisen, but I fear we don't have much time to waste on such pleasantries.” The goblin politely declined. “If you don't mind, I'd get straight to the point.”

“By all means.”

Trakk made a small pause, seemingly gathering his argument before talking.

“Originally, I came here to ask for your permission to build some warehouses outside of the walls.” Trakk replied. “Mostly to store my goods. This way, we'd increase the efficiency of trading with the rest of the kingdom.”

“That's a sound proposition.” The marquis nodded.

“However, while I was waiting for you, I couldn't really help but eavesdrop a few words from your telemancy call.” He chuckled. “Though to be fair, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole city heard it. You should really turn down the volume if you want some privacy, dear marquis.”

“I actually wanted to do that.” Eisen replied in a vaguely annoyed tone. “But sadly my chief telemancer is occupied elsewhere, and as it turned out he's the only one who can properly control the vocal system.”

“Anyway, the words I picked up made me rather worried.” The goblin continued. “From the sound of it, it seems like your men met some orcs in the forest.”

“They did.” The marquis confirmed. “But they were just a few orcs, and the Vex made quick work of them. They could have just been a regular orc tribe wandering into Vex territory.”

“That's unlikely.” Trakk corrected him. “When my people left the forest most, if not all, orc tribes were already under Blueskin's control. Moreover, it's rare for orcs to show up so far up in the north, since they usually stay in the southern part of the forest where there are more preys. If you add these two facts together, it becomes probable that those orcs were either scouts or foragers for a bigger force expanding to the north, most likely because they've exhausted their food reserves in the south.”

“That's a possibility, for sure.” Eisen replied, giving the goblin a very meaningful look. “If the orc army really does exist, that is.”

The goblin made a sad smirk in response.

“Well, we're going to find that out soon, aren't we?” He said. “Speaking of which, may I ask how you intend to prepare for the orc arrival?”

“I've increased the number of patrols in the forest, but apart from that can't really do much before I get a reliable confirmation of the existence of the orc army.” The marquis shot a glance at the goblin. “The capital won't send me reinforcements until then, and my province is too worn down after the conflict with your people to mount up a significant defense.”

“Fair enough.” Trakk nodded. “However, there is a problem with this course of action: if the orcs reach Brettholz before the reinforcements from Rennhafen your province is going to be razed to the ground.”

“I'm well aware of that.” The nobleman replied with a sigh. “But sadly there is nothing I can do about it. I'm not in the good graces of the Council of Nobles and they are the ones controlling the regular army.”

“Understood.” The goblin said. “If things are like this, then I'd like to ask for your permission to take the matter of the defense in my hands.”

“What do you mean?” Eisen asked, feeling a bit suspicious.

“Well, it seems that there is a high probability that it'll be up to us goblins and to the Vex to keep the orcs occupied until reinforcements from Rennhafen arrives.” Trakk explained in a business like tone. “Therefore, I'd like to improve the odds by doing some preparations beforehand. But in order to do so, I need your permission to lead part of my forces outside of our territory.”

The goblin then waited for the marquis's answer, but Eisen didn't answer right away. Instead, he stared at the goblins as if trying to see inside of his head, while he pondered the implications of that request.

The nobleman felt really reluctant to let a recently hostile and rather untrustworthy armed force wander freely in his territory, but on the other hand if the orcs were really coming then they needed all the advantages they could muster.

In the end, Eisen decided to reach a compromise between the two courses of action in order to minimize the risks involved.

“Fine.” He said. “You have my permission to leave your territories and prepare for the upcoming battle.” He raised his finger. “However, there are a few conditions. First off, you and your underlings will have to be unarmed when you are outside of your territories. Second, you will have to be accompanied by my guards and won't get out of their view. And third, you will only get command of your goblins. You'll have no authority on humans, beastmen or Vex.”

“Understood, but I have a question about the first condition.” Trakk said. “Are tools like axes included in the weapon ban? Because we're going to need them to make the necessary preparations.”

“Fine, you can have axes and tools like that.” Eisen conceded. “However, no armor, shields, bows or spears.”

“That's fine.” The goblin nodded. “Oh, and I'd also need you to call the Vex Queen on my behalf. I'm going to need her cooperation in preparing for the invasion, but I don't know if she's going to listen to me unless you told her to.”

“I'm going to call Sir Marcus tomorrow morning to ask her to collaborate with you.” The nobleman said. “But I won't give her any order, nor you'll have any authority over her. Also, I want a detailed report of anything you're going to do.”

“Understandable.” Trakk nodded again, and then he got up. “Then, with your permission, I'll be on my way now. I'd love to stay a bit longer, but I have much to do and I want to get back to my territories this very evening to get things started.”

“By all means.” The marquis said. “We both have a lot of work ahead of us. I'll contact you through my telemancers if there is any news about the orcs.”

“Thank you, marquis.” The Goblin General said. “Goodbye, then, Marquis Eisen. It'll probably be a while before we can meet again, and I hope that next time you'll have more reason to trust me.”

“Goodbye, General.” Eisen replied with a smile. “May the Lord watch over your steps.”

And with this final exchange Trakk stepped out of the room.

Many miles south from Brettholz, in a camp at the border between the Caligare Forest and the mountain range known as the Ashen Peaks, the orcs were having a party.

The camp itself was really rudimental, being little more than a grassy clearing with some bonfires lit all over and a huge tree at the center, but since the weather was clear and the temperature was really mild it was still very pleasant. Besides, the presence of the huge tree at the center made up for the lack of other amenities.

That plant was known as a Lucor Tree, but it was commonly called the Sweet Death by the denizens of the forest. It bore delicious fruits, whose smell was absolutely enticing to the point of being intoxicating, and whose nectar, while not technically poisonous, had a narcotic effect so strong that a single drop could send even a fully grown orc into a coma on the spot. The tree would then extend its roots into the unconscious victim, draining them of every nutrient and making more fruits to attract even more prey.

However, a goblin tribe had discovered that by watering down Lucor nectar and letting it brew for a few weeks they could make a delicious liquor, which retained just enough of its narcotic properties to induce a strong sense of euphoria.

And since Blueskin had eaten the leader of that goblin tribe consequently acquired that knowledge, he had decided to put it to good use, introducing his kin to the joys of alcoholic beverages.

As a result, all around him the other orcs were merrily drinking, eating and sometimes even fighting each other, with the winner screwing the loser, while the oni sat on a tree stump like a king on his throne, observing the merry chaos around him and deciding that it was good.

After all, they certainly had good reasons to celebrate.

For starters, they had gained complete control over the central part of the Caligare Forest. From the Greenward Mountains in the south to the Ashwood Hills to the north, there was no other race left that could oppose them. The Piraca had been exterminated during the siege of Mount Fang, while the few remaining Rantul tribes had also been dealt with or forced into hiding. This had allowed the orcs to drastically expand their hunting territory within the forest, solving the food shortage they had when they were confined to a smaller territory.

And speaking of food, the quality of what they ate also improved drastically, mostly thanks to Anak’si, the captive Rantul Matriarch. This was because sentient, thinking beings were somehow tastier and had better nutritional value for the orcs compared to normal animals, and the Pale Matriarch had the power to turn pretty much any living being into a Rantul Hybrid. This surplus of “intelligent meat”, as the orcs called it, had been a great boon for Blueskin’s forces, making the orcs stronger and helping them evolve faster, to the point that now there were more than a thousand ogres under the oni’s command.

And finally, after they had secured food and stability, they would also get better equipment thanks to the deal that Blueskin had made with the kobolds.

The kobolds were a reclusive race of humanoid lizard-furret-dog thingies that lived in caves under the Ashen Peaks, and they were also the single most advanced race of the Caligare Forest, at least technologically speaking. More specifically, they were particularly talented blacksmiths, and they had the closest thing to a proper industry that Blueskin had seen in this world, being able to mass produce things like plate armor and metal weapons. However, despite their technological proficiency, the orcs still surpassed them in power by a large margin and they knew it perfectly. So, once the orc raiding parties had started threatening their homes, the kobolds had desperately tried to find a diplomatic solution before the conflict would escalate, and luckily for them Blueskin listened to them. A quick negotiation later, a deal had been brokered and the kobolds had accepted to give a regular tribute in weapons and armor in exchange for being left alone. Moreover, in order to definitely seal the deal and show their good intentions, they had gifted Blueskin a custom made suit of plate armor and a huge, ornate battleaxe.

The axe was certainly a cool and useful weapon, which he had started to keep always as his side, but the armor had been rather disappointing. It was a far cry from the cool armor suits he had seen in anime, as it looked mostly like a bulbous boiler and it got in the way when he used his shapeshifting powers. Nonetheless, for all his complaining he was actually glad to have it. A ridiculous armor was better than no armor at all, and besides it was actually quite resilient and comfortable to wear. Hell, it even had a roomy enough codpiece to hide and protect any random boner he could get during a battle, which was actually a feature he had been glad for in the last few weeks.

Blueskin sighed. His current sexual frustration was the only sour note in an otherwise perfect symphony, mostly because he didn’t have any way to vent it out. Sure there were a lot of ogres he could fuck if he wanted to, but they looked absolutely hideous. The only thing with a passable look in the camp was Anak’si, the Rantul Matriarch, but since she had a huge, disgusting spider for a lower torso there wasn’t much the oni could do with her, except playing with her titties… which was actually something he liked to do, from time to time.

He sighed again. He wished that Tiny-Sneaky was with him right now, but for some reason the cute little ogre was always away on various self-imposed missions, like keeping tabs on the expansion on new territories or exploring dangerous locations. This was a commendable sense of duty, and Blueskin had to agree that the missions she went on were very important… but he still wished that she stayed with him more often.

“Well, maybe I could order her to do that next time I see her!” He thought, taking a sip of Lucor liquor out of a bowl. “I mean, tending to my needs should be her top priority now that there isn’t any pressing threat! In fact, running around doing whatever she pleases is terribly irresponsible of her!”

He then kept chugging his drink while complaining in his head for a while. He was so absorbed in this activity, not to mention slightly drunk, that he didn’t notice the furtive figure that approached him.

“Blueskin.” A weirdly high-pitched ogre voice said. “We need to talk.”

The oni immediately turned around, and found himself face to face with none else than Tiny-Sneaky.

“Tiny!” Blueskin cried. “You’re back! Now this is a pleasant surprise!”

He got up in order to hug the feminine ogre, but Tiny-Sneaky took a few steps back, getting out of his range.

“I have something important to tell you.” She said. “I need you to listen to me now.”

“Can’t I listen while we celebrate a little?” The oni asked with a lustful smile. “You’ve been away for so long, and I really needed you…”

“You wouldn’t really listen while fucking me.” Tiny replied with a hard voice. “And what I have to tell you can’t wait. I found something that could become a threat to us all.”

Blueskin grimaced and felt a fiery rage flashing in his head in response to that rejection, but after a moment he managed to calm himself down. After all, Tiny-Sneaky had proven time and time again that her judgement was sound, and if she was in such a hurry she probably had a very good reason.

Besides, it’s not as if he couldn’t satisfy his urges after she’d finished giving her report.

“Speak then.” The oni ordered. “What’s this threat?”

“Humans.” The feminine ogre promptly answered. “And some other creatures I don’t know about.”

“What!?!” Blueskin cried in surprise. “Humans!?! Where? What happened? How did you find them?”

“I found them up in the north, in the Ashwood Hills.” Tiny explained. “A foraging party was attacked by an unknown race with only one survivor managing to escape, so I went to spy those creatures to know if they were a threat.” She made a small pause. “I found their nest in some old ruins covered in some weird gray stuff, and they certainly looked dangerous. They are similar to bugs, and there are hundreds of them in there. They are also very aggressive and hunt down everything that passes near their nest.”

“Fine, you’ve discovered a dangerous race.” Blueskin interrupted her, speaking with an annoyed voice. “There are probably dozens of such races in the forest. A few hundred bugs are not a threat for us. And most importantly, how does this have anything to do with humans?”

“I was getting there.” The ogre said. “While I was spying on those bugs, I also saw humans coming in and out of the bugs nest.”

“And what were these humans doing in there?” The oni asked.

“From what I could see, they were patrolling the area.” Tiny-Sneaky replied. “Or at least this was what they did outside of the nest. I don’t know what they were doing inside, because the bugs guarded the place too well to approach it unnoticed. Even for me.”

“How did the humans and the bugs interact with each other?” Blueskin asked. “Did the humans give the bugs orders or something?”

“No, actually.” The ogre shrugged. “They just ignored each other, from what I could see.”

“So… you’re basically saying that you found a bunch of humans living with some overgrown bugs and patrolling their surroundings.” Blueskin frowned. “That doesn’t seem as threatening as you made it out to be. Or is there anything else you’re leaving out?”

“Well...” Tiny-Sneaky muttered defensively. “I can’t be sure, but I don’t think that the humans actually live there. It felt more like when you assign orcs to guard our borders, and they make a temporary camp for themselves…” She stopped for a moment, trying to find the right word.

“An outpost?” Blueskin suggested.

“Yes! An outpost!” The ogre nodded. “The humans there all acted like hunters without actually hunting… scouts, I think you called them. And I heard nothing to make me think that there was a village or anything like that in the nest, so it must have been an outpost to guard the human borders.”

“Fine, let’s say that it was a military outpost.” The oni said. “I still don’t see how that could be a threat to us.”

“Well… if it is an outpost, doesn’t it mean that it must be near the human lands?” Tiny asked. “I mean, our outposts are all near our territories and I can’t think of a reason why the humans should make theirs far from their lands. And if that is true then...”

“Then our northernmost forces are getting near the human lands!” Blueskin interrupted her as the dangers of the situation dawned to him. “Shit! If our foragers invade any human settlement during their raids, they could start a war while we’re still unprepared!”

Sobered up by this realization, the oni started thinking out loud, trying to come up with a proper course of action.

“We’ve got to send runners to our tribes in the north to tell them to stop venturing any further.” He said. “Then, we’ve got to investigate these humans… ideally we should capture some of them alive, so that I can get information from them.” He paused for a moment. “But before everything else, I should consult my personale oracle.” He turned and gestured to Tiny-Sneaky to follow him. “Let’s go, Tiny.”

The ogre followed her leader, and the two made way through the orc camp, ignoring the partying orcs and occasionally shoving away the ones that were too slow to get out of their way in time. They headed straight for the border of the camp, where two figures were chained to a tree and guarded by four ogres.

Those prisoners were Anak’si and Turemalac, once leaders of their respective races and proud enemies of the orcs, but they looked nothing like their proud past selves. The past months of captivity had thoroughly purged them of any semblance of arrogance, and now they were battered, dirty and broken.

The Crimson Devil was the one that looked the worst. He was skeletally thin and his once crimson skin had faded into a pale, sickly pink. Moreover, his skin-wings had been torn to shreds in order to make sure that he couldn’t fly away, and only some pathetic flaps of skin and cartilage dangled from his arms. He was sitting on the ground, looking utterly miserable.

The Arachne was definitely in much better shape physically, as she had managed to regenerate her missing limbs and was seemingly well fed as well, but she also gave the impression of being utterly broken inside. Both her human and spider parts were huddled onto themselves, shaking like a leaf, and her human eyes were staring into the distance with a blank expression on her face.

Blueskin couldn’t help but smirk when he saw their terrified expression when they noticed him approaching them. It was always incredibly satisfying to see his enemies humiliated in such a manner.

“Give the Piraca his bowl.” The oni ordered the ogre guards. “I need a prediction on an important matter.”

“No! Please!” Turemalac cried in panic. “‘I’ve already made two predictions today, and I’m too tired for another one! Just let me rest for tonight, I beg you!”

However, the only effect these desperate pleads obtained was to make Blueskin slap Turemalac hard in the face, sending the Piraca on the ground, screaming in pain.

“I’m not asking if you feel like reading the future, I’m bloody ordering you to do it, filth!” The oni said in a hard voice. “Unless, of course, you’re telling me that you really can’t make the prediction that I require of you… in which case, maybe you’d be more useful to me as a meal than as an oracle.”

There was a ravenous light in Blueskin’s eyes that made it clear that he wasn’t bluffing, and that convinced Turemalac that he better do as he was told.

“I-I do it, sir.” He said, still laying on the ground. “I can still be useful. Please don’t eat me.”

“Atta boy!” The oni laughed. “I’d hate having to eat you right now… you’re just skin and bones. I really got to fatten  you up a bit, just in case I need a snack in the future!”

While he was talking, an ogre guard brought a huge, sealed pot in front of Turemalac and then lifted the lid, revealing that it was almost completely full of glowing Piraca goo. The Crimson Devil let out a tired sigh and then slowly picked himself up and kneeled in front of the pot, putting his hands inside of the goo.

“What is it you wish to know?” He asked, in a resigned tone. “Ask your question.”

“I want to know about the human outpost in the north.” Blueskin replied. “I want to know if an attack led by my subordinates would manage to catch a human alive.”

The Piraca Emperor nodded, closed his bulbous eyes and opened his beak. Then the goo in the pot started boiling and some of it turned into a greenish steam that flew directly into Turemalac’s mouth. The Crimson devil stood motionless for a moment, and then he spoke in a solemn voice.

“The odds that an attack led by one of your subordinates would manage to catch a human alive are 7.3%.”. He announced.

“That’s not enough.” The oni said. “What if I personally lead the attack? What would the odds be then?”

The pot was quickly getting empty and Turemalac’s body was visibly tense with effort, but the Piraca answered again.

“The odds that an attack led personally by you would manage to catch a human alive are 86.71%.” He replied.

“That’s better.” Blueskin nodded with approval. “If you want something done, you have to do it yourself!” He paused for a moment, almost about to leave, but then he made another question: “Oh, I almost forgot. If I lead the attack myself, what are the odds that the humans would manage to alert their main forces?”

This time, Turemalac started shaking with fatigue and went even more pale as the pot got completely empty and more green steam flew into his body. He spoke, but his voice was broken and pained.

“The odds… that the humans… would manage to… alert their… main forces… if you lead the attack… yourself… are… 3… point… 2… percent.” The Piraca muttered, and then, with an hiccup, he fell to the ground, twitching convulsively.

“Well, I’d say that this is enough for tonight.” Blueskin commented with a smirk, watching his old rival and fellow reincarnator writhing on the ground. In his opinion, there was nothing quite as satisfying as watching the humiliation of your enemies.

“Put a blanket on him or something and let him rest for tonight, and give him food and water if he wakes up.” He ordered the guards “Also, don’t toy with him or the Rantul Matriarch. I need them in condition to travel for tomorrow.”

“Yes sir!” The guards replied as one, leaving the oni satisfied with their performance. He doubted that the orcs and the ogres would ever be intellectuals, but at least he was managing to forge them into passable soldiers.

“Very good.” He said, turning around. “Let’s hit the sack then. We leave tomorrow for the northern outpost, so we need to be well rested.”

“Ok, sir.” Tiny-Sneaky said, and she started walking away.

“Wait a second, Tiny!” Blueskin called her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The feminine ogre froze for a moment, before turning around with a cautious expression on her face.

“I… was going to sleep. Like you said.”

“Well, your bed isn’t that way.” The oni said with a lustful smile. “You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

“Sir, I don’t know if this is the right moment to…”

“Oh, screw it!” Blueskin interrupted her. “I decide when it’s the right moment. And I want you now. You’ve been blueballing me for weeks with your leaves, so now it’s time for you to take care of my needs.”

Tiny-Sneaky didn’t reply right away. For a moment a fiery, angry light flashed in her eyes, but it died quickly and the ogre took a submissive pose.

“Of course, sir.” She said, in a resigned tone. “As you order.”