Chapter 12
A spiny insect, like a cross between a horned beetle and a hornet, hovered with a crackle, dispersing the stuffy, chilly air. About the size of a grown man's finger, it buzzed its wings much louder than you'd expect from a creature of its size. Maybe it was the good acoustics of the tomb, though. Or maybe it was the fact that there were thousands of miniature monsters like it flying and crawling all over the room.
The insect swung from side to side in the air, obeying a silent order, and took another turn. The creature was not interested in the meaning of what was happening, it just did what its master wanted. If it understood the command.
Marius glanced around the tomb. The stale peace was disturbed by the stirring, ominous humming and crackling of hordes of mindless predators. They crawled over bas-reliefs, columns, magic lamps, and joints of marble in the floor. A cloud of tiny killers hovered between the vaulted ceiling, tens of meters high, and the floor.
Marius put his finger up. The insect immediately sat on it and froze.
Lich was disappointed. Not for the first time. He expected more from this spell than he got.
[Unholy Swarm]
From what he knew of this spell, it meant that the caster's will summoned many undead insects, whose bites poisoned and infected the target with a variety of diseases. The swarm is obedient to the caster's will and capable of executing simple commands. Move, attack, rest.
It was one of his priority spells, and he always used and maintained it from the beginning of the battle. Of course, it was on the list of the first to be tested in the changed conditions. And here he received another blow to his ego.
Marius realized that he had no idea how it worked. Between the moment in which he wished to summon the Swarm, and the moment in which the creatures crawled out of every crevice, there were processes going on that were hidden from him. Where do the soldiers of the Swarm come from? What is the nature of the diseases they spread? Where do their instincts, contrary to the logic of survival, come from? What connects his mental command to their actions?
He had hoped to find answers to these questions by studying the Swarm now, but he failed. There was a given - using the spell gave the stated result. There were more opportunities to control it than he remembered, but here it was more a matter of never thinking about atypical use before. There was simply no reason to give non-combat orders.
It was humiliating, unacceptable, and... It was a fact. He was just using a tool without knowing how it worked. Yes, it was possible to justify himself with a simple explanation. The Lords of the Dawn had given him this spell. Everything in the past world was of their will, and it seems little has changed now. A universal axiom, requiring no proof.
But to accept such an explanation now meant to sign away his personal inability to comprehend the essence of things. To admit his limitations, to deny his intellectual superiority over the other vassals. To lose the advantage and reject the dream of becoming something more than the gatekeeper to the blessed abode of the last Lord.
These thoughts made it almost physically painful.
The dream of seeing the world through the eyes of the omnipotent Lords has cracked. How can he comprehend the absolute essence if he cannot even make sense of that which is part of himself?
And so it was with everything. It had been a week since the Prophet had left Dawn City, and the entire week had been devoted to research and testing. A complete failure. In everything. All spells and skills worked as they should, with some variation in power, area of effect, and duration. No more than that. The mystery of processes remained a mystery. Only the action and the result were revealed to him.
Swarm, sensing the sluggish flare of his anger, flinched, ready to lunge at his target and tear it to shreds. Marius scolded himself for intemperance and calmed down. The globular cloud beneath the ceiling returned to its smooth rotation.
As he snapped the insect off his finger, Marius looked at his apprentice.
Lias sat on the floor, staring calmly at the lich hovering opposite him. The swarm didn't come within arm's length of him, Marius had ordered it.
In these days, Lias had changed his attitude toward apprenticeship, accepting it for what it was. Marius was pleased with this fact. The man's calm and fearlessness in front of the world revealed to him avoided tedious training. Of course, this balance of mind did not come as a free gift. He lost a lot of weight, his hair turned white, and he began to sleep and eat with complete indifference to the process. Though, from Marius' point of view, this was a vanishingly insignificant change.
With his inner vision (which again he could not explain), Marius saw other changes in him. The faintly shimmering source of power, at first merely unpleasant, grew stronger and larger. It had gained a kind of purity that somehow didn't irritate the lich, though it was the opposite of undead nature. The soul became more firmly attached to its physical form.
"Did you read the book I gave you yesterday?" said the lich.
"No, mentor, I have only just begun. The knowledge in it is very difficult to understand, and I have only just begun to grasp it."
"A mere two hundred pages of simple theses. - Marius put a bony palm to his face. - Schematics and step-by-step instructions. What is it you couldn't understand?"
"Forgive me, I'm sorry to disappoint you, mentor." Lias pulled a book out of his bag, wrapped in a soft gray cloth. "I got stuck at the beginning. Here, the first diagram, the layout of the power lines..."
Lias opened the page he was looking for. A Sign of the Power, one of the basic components for applying magic beyond the caster's level. A chain of such signs was required to outline the area in which the spell would be cast. Once inside the outlined area, Lias, whose maximum was rank 2 magic, could apply a third.
Marius remembered every page of every book in his necropolis perfectly. The first day after his meeting with the Prophet, he reread everything he could reach. This drawing was garishly and inaccurately drawn, as, in general, were many others. Surprisingly, the different copies of the same books were absolutely identical. The drawing, drawn by an amateur and clearly by hand, was resolutely indistinguishable from the same drawing in other volumes. A deliberate inaccuracy on the part of the great calligrapher? A thoughtless copying by means of unknown tools? So many questions and not one answer.
I guess you were confused by the fuzzy lines and floating angles here and here. I can understand that. I constantly overestimate your intelligence... Here's a note and a footnote, and on the other side of the page are clear numbers that should be used as a starting point for plotting. The drawing is only meant to generally visualize the result.
"Thank you, mentor. I'll do my best..."
"Of course you do. From the obvious, I suppose you'll need a drawing tool."
"I will ask Lady Rangeso, if you will let me." Lias bowed respectfully, standing up.
"It makes no sense, her tools are too complicated for you. You'll make mistakes and waste your time. Perhaps it makes sense to send you to the library to the alive..."
It was obvious that the kid's shoulders trembled with hope.
"Do you hope not to return? Leave your vain hopes and avoid painful regrets. You are in my hands, and this state of affairs can only change for one reason"
"Which one...?"
"By the highest order of the Prophet. He has entrusted you to me. You are my disciple until he commands otherwise."
Lias bowed silently, and some hesitation did not escape Marius.
"Is there something you want to ask me?"
"Yes, if you'll excuse me."
"I will."
"The Prophet... Is this the faceless gentleman who sent me to you?"
"Faceless... I hear that definition again. Yes, that's him."
"I would like to know more about him, if possible."
"Perhaps later. Right now, you're still incapable to realize what he is."
"Is he... God?"
Marius burst into a rage and immediately cooled down.
"You are thinking in terms of a weak creature, and your delusions are forgivable. You cannot compare the power of those who influence the world according to its rules with those who create those rules. The Prophet is of the latter. For now, just accept that fact. Now go."
Lias nodded respectfully and headed for the exit, hidden in the shadows.
Marius returned to the research of the Swarm. He had already figured out that he could control not only the whole Swarm but also a single element of it. Now it was necessary to find out if he could break the Swarm into more than two parts and control them simultaneously...
After a while, he noticed some changes in his perception. There was a feeling that someone else was present in the crypt. Marius ordered Swarm to fill the entire space of the crypt. The insects, chirping aggressively, rushed to carry out the order. Not a single insect encountered an invisible obstacle, which meant that the "presence" was not physical.
Someone whose presence is felt but not palpable, who is not recognized as an enemy and to whom the crypt's defenses do not react.
Marius relaxed, letting the presence touch his mind.
"Malicriss. I was expecting you earlier"
A cautious stirring of outside thoughts and feelings was felt in his mind.
"I allow you to stand before me. Don't dig any deeper than necessary for the conversation. I am much stronger than you are. In all ways."
An outside current of thought became an image before her eyes. An elven woman with dark purple skin, with silver hair tied in a ponytail. A worn, faded sutana, a cloth blindfold over her eyes. Hands respectfully folded at her belly.
She bowed.
"Thank you for letting me talk to you, Gatekeeper. I'm sorry if I was impolite."
"I guess you didn't come out of your hole for etiquette."
"That's right." Malicriss straightened up, showing an enviably proud posture. "I'm here on business. We hadn't spoken in person before, and I chose to be polite. Well, for starters. You say you were expecting me?"
"That's right. A week or so ago, you appeared like that to Draga. Whatever the goal, I'm guessing you didn't achieve it. And given your reputation, you don't have much choice about who else to contact."
Malicris smiled weakly.
"Do you think I'm guilty of betrayal, too?"
"You committed it on direct orders from Lady Lilim. It wasn't your choice. The others think it was a collaboration, but I find it ridiculous. Like a murderer plotting with a knife."
"You don't think I'm guilty?"
"No. But I think you have no right to exist because you constitute a precedent for the unacceptable. Nevertheless, this is my personal opinion. Since the Lords have deemed otherwise, I can only humbly accept their will."
"You don't hate me?" Malicriss smiled guiltily.
"There's no reason for that. Leave these attempts to influence me through mimics and tone. I've been dead a long time, and I'm not interested in such games. Why are you here?"
Drow hummed, returning the cold expression to her face
I want to know what's going on. Something has changed, and I'm sure you understand far better than anyone else what has happened. You're dispassionate, intelligent, and open-minded. I can't imagine who else to talk to. Draga hasn't fulfilled expectations, it's true.
"Why didn't you contact me right away?"
"I had a definite plan that did not include a clever assistant. It failed."
"I suppose the plan was to remind the Prophet of your existence so that he would reconsider his sentence?"
"I know you think all Lords are flawless, but... They really are capable of forgetting unimportant things."
"A big misconception based on superficial judgment. But it doesn't matter. In a nutshell, our world ceased to exist, and the Dawn City with all its surrounding territories is now in another world. The basic theory is that the Prophet, at the moment of the demise of our world, transported us all to the other world. He himself has made it clear that he does not support this version."
"What do you think?"
"This is still only a hypothesis, confirmed only indirectly. It is subject to change."
"I'm sure of your judgment."
"Be that as it may. I believe that we did not begin our actual existence until that very moment, or rather a few nanoseconds after it. I'm not sure yet. I have analyzed all the data available to me and find too many inconsistencies. Our history before the death of the world and the actual state of affairs at this moment do not allow us to accept the generally accepted idea of transference as it is."
"That explains a lot. Lords are capable of more than that..."
"Right. Our creation, according to some sketches, fits quite well into the whim of a higher being. It is too early to tell more than that."
"Is there any information about the world we are in?"
"Poor and inaccurate. Based on the information I got from a few natives... in the High dialect, I guess you could say it's "a miserable sandbox with no hard guards and a depressing loot".
"The High Dialect... It has not been lost during my imprisonment, it makes me happy. I didn't expect to hear it again." Malicriss's smile had a touch of real joy in it.
"As long as I exist, I won't let it disappear," the lich bowed gallantly. "So you've heard my side of the story. Now satisfy my curiosity. What are you planning?"
"Well..." Malicriss grinned coldly, raising her face to the ceiling. "First, to take my place. I want recognition and power. In absolute terms, to rule in His name and for His glory."
"Daring ambition for a prisoner with the mark of a traitor," Marius remarked caustically.
"Daring doesn't mean empty. You have ambitions too, and we are on our way."
"Are you offering a partnership?" sniffed the lich.
"Rather, friendship and alliance. We can be very useful to each other."
"And what good are you to me?"
"If you help me gain power... This is a new unknown world. Not everyone will bow to us, there will be many wars. You will take whatever you want. Books, scrolls, research, materials, countless bodies, living and dead. Anything that can provide you first after the Prophet."
"It's tempting. And what do you expect in return?"
"Your intelligence, your power, and your influence. First, get me out of the cells. I'll need your help later, but I won't burden you too much."
"If you start fighting for power the way I think you will anger the Prophet. What do you think I would do in that case?"
"Will you destroy me? I have no objection. All I can promise you is that I won't do anything stupid like a rebel. One such mistake is enough. I want the approval and recognition of the Prophet, not his wrath."
"I should warn you that Wilhelm wants the same thing you do. And I predict that Illadria will support him. It won't be easy to compete with them, even for you."
"Don't think about it. I can handle it. They don't have you. I do."
"If look at it with an open mind, you might succeed. Wilhelm is mundane and petty, Illadria is naive and has no ambition, Draga has no influence, Warboss doesn't care about this mess at all, he just wants war..." Marius scratched the knuckles on his chin. "You definitely have a chance."
"I'm glad you understand that. Let's discuss the details..."
Wilhelm loved luxury. Not flashy and flamboyant, in the sort of "all the most expensive things in a pile," which, on the contrary, made him a little squeamish. He liked real, quiet luxury that could not be faked or imitated.
In his workplace, everything suited his tastes. Massive furniture made of rare stone, polished parquet, fluffy carpet, literally beaming with purity. High windows overlooking the palace square, half-covered by burgundy curtains with gold embroidery. On the walls are portraits of the Lords and a tapestry with the symbol of the guild.
In a nice environment and work well.
Wilhelm stretched broadly, leaning back in his chair. On the massive marble table in front of him was a stack of papers that had already been signed. He was done with the business of the day.
The end of the week was like an endless marathon. The euphoria of the "Event" was gone, but his duties as governor remained. He had a huge pile of things to do. Civil, economic, and military problems demanded his attention. And he was surprised to note that he had never worked so hard before.
Most of the civil inquiries he simply rejected with a glance. There was neither the desire nor the time to waste time on the personal troubles of citizens. The rapidly accumulating appeals of this kind were put aside for the time being.
But there were appeals that could not be ignored.
The cunning merchant invested in several stores. He got debtors and started demanding concessions from them, which, in fact, he was not entitled to. Nothing contradicts the Lords' established order if you look at the general rules. But to allow an ordinary merchant to gain the power to demand something from other citizens? They need a solution that, on the one hand, will restrain the insolent businessman, but, on the other hand, will not be simply the arbitrariness of the authorities. A new law is needed that would clarify the rights and obligations of citizens in the field of investment.
A family of draconians complains of the constant noise near the central lake. The Lords have established that half the shore is set aside for masonry, and it used to be fine. Now the other half is where the guards used to gather after their shifts. It's a beautiful winery with a great view of the lake; why not, and it's close to the barracks. But the eggs need silence, or they might hatch early, and that's not good for the cubs. Everyone is right, a compromise is necessary.
Orcs. A small gang went for a walk in town, got drunk, lost their commander, and stole an anvil from the blacksmith. They do not remember why. The commander woke up, caught the hooligans, and told them to drag it back, but the scandal had already been raised. Warboss promised to take action, but we need to figure out how to calm the blacksmith and avoid this in the future.
Today alone he handled three dozen such cases. He issued two new laws and six decrees, spending a total of almost half a day on these proceedings. And this was just a warm-up.
The army demanded attention. The war machine was suddenly no longer flawless. Starting with little things like reserve equipment. The size and shape of the armor for humans and elves differed significantly from the same parameters for the draconians. Lizards are on average a third as wide and taller than humans and have different body proportions. And while stripping armor from a fallen elf and putting it on a human is no problem, it's not going to work with draconids. Neither would a quick mobilization of the militia. The lack of a uniform standard requires extra attention to supply.
The same is also true for formation training. All three of the Dawn Mist army's species worked well together in training, as long as they only had to maintain their restraining formation. The draconians' tall stature was perfectly counterbalanced by their specific stance.
Problems began when maneuvering the units. The lizards stood out here as well - they needed more room to turn than the others, due to their build and powerful tail. In the old world it was never even an issue, but now it's become a problem. And it could not be said that the draconians' loss of formation was to blame. One, two, or ten fighters who have lost their basics is one thing. But all at once?
Another quirk of the new world that cannot be left as it is. To deprive lizards of the privilege of serving the Prophet? To deliberately go against the order established by the higher beings? Unacceptable on principle. All the more so because, as soldiers, the draconians were above reproach. Powerful, hardy, able to handle the harshest of battles.
It's good that they eat what everyone else eats. At least there's no ruse.
Wilhelm rubbed his face with his palms. Nutrition was also a problem and, personally, his unforgivable mistake. When he did his calculations, he overlooked an important fact. Orcs and lizards consume significantly more provisions than humans and elves. Farm output, as it now appeared, did not cover consumption. He still had to answer for this failure, and now he tried not to think about how he would justify himself to the Prophet.
Although he, no doubt, had already foreseen everything. As well as many other things. It's about the time most of the orcs went to conquer the forests outside the mountain valley. It was a victorious war, a test of combat effectiveness in a new environment, a bone to the ravenous dogs of war, a smoothing of relations between the leaders of races, and an opportunity to quickly improve weaknesses in the organization without too much distraction to riotous ruffians. And also, a reduction of the food burden.
Wilhelm grimaced and pushed the thought away. In any case, the problem was no longer burning at the moment. Instead of self-blame, he should have thought about how to fix the problem in the long run.
He rose from his chair and pushed the bell on the table with his palm. The oak door immediately opened and a servant appeared in the doorway. Wilhelm, not focusing his attention on him, ordered to prepare a tea table on the main balcony. The servant nodded and disappeared unnoticed.
A new, carefully cultivated habit is to relax with a view of the city after finishing the day's work. What could be better than a wonderful view and a fragrant drink? Only the same, but in good company.
Illadria was already there, taking a seat on the other side of the table. Her very presence suited the setting. The openwork table, the finest gold china, the silent presence of the servant, frozen in the shadows. A white dress.
As he sat down, Wilhelm was once again pleased with her company. It wasn't even the fact that the elf was so damn good-looking and skillfully emphasized it with her clothes and manners. She was a great conversationalist with whom to share a confusing thought, redefining it for herself. She was equal.
"I was already preparing to spend the rest of the evening alone." The enchantress smiled coquettishly and took a bite of her cookie.
"And don't even dream. If you have come, you must bear it." Wilhelm sat down across from her.
"A lot of work?"
"A lot, you know how it is. Sometimes I think that everything is going to hell, and we don't see it yet."
"As long as you're king here, nothing will go anywhere, I'm sure."
"You're right there. But you know, sometimes I wish I could tear myself apart into so many little Wilhelms and be everywhere at once. I could go on and on with the paperwork, follow orders, take requests, supervise road construction, I could go on and on and on."
"Don't tell me you don't like what you do," the elfish girl shot her eyes.
Wilhelm raised his index finger admonishingly.
"That's the authority, baby. I command it, the rest of them obey it. How can you not love it?"
"You're so imposing..." Illadria chuckled into her palm.
"But, no, I'll ask," Wilhelm pretended to be indignant and threw a cookie in his mouth. "You have nothing to do at all, I think."
"Well, that's not true. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get griffins not to tear each other apart when they're not under saddle? Not to mention how to pair them up. At first, it was just a nightmare, they didn't understand who was their enemy and who wasn't. So many people were crippled."
"The lords somehow handled them."
"Yeah. Who are we and who are the Lords."
"Also true. So you say it was bad at first, but how is it now?"
Illadria lit up with pride.
"For now we have a fourth pair, and we can expect eggs from the first pair in a couple of months."
Wilhelm's hands spread in admiration.
"Congratulations. You know who the main candidate for the second chicken is, don't you?"
"I can guess," the elf girl grinned. "I'll put you on the long, long list. You probably won't have time to do it anyway."
"Hey," Wilhelm said indignantly. "It's not funny."
Illadria laughed softly in response to the indignation, and Wilhelm relaxed.
"Actually, I'm not sure what it will look like yet," the elf continued with regret. "The cubs will have to take their example from the adults. And the adults... They are so aggressive, almost wild. They obey very few people, and even then, they are more likely to tolerate them. I'm sure the Prophet could tame them, but..." she spread her hands sadly.
"But the plans of higher beings are not an area in which we can demand anything. I see. Why don't I send in some of the toughest of the elite guards? Drakhs, for example. They're not easily maimed. Perhaps the gryphons need a show of force to show them who's boss. If they don't understand nice, why coddle them?"
"I don't know, we could try, but I won't let them near the ready pairs. These are manageable, but if they get mad, it's all for naught."
"All right, wait for them tomorrow morning. Arrange as you see fit."
They sat in silence for some time, watching the gathering dusk. From the huge balcony, they could see the street lamps lighting up and the warm glow of the windows one by one.
Wilhelm finally broke the silence.
"Can you tell me how it's going out there? Warboss stopped keeping me informed after he tried to send me prisoners."
"Why did you turn him down?"
"I don't want to take care of hordes of wild outsiders. His war, let him sort it out for himself. It won't make any difference in his dumpsite, but I won't let him turn our City into a barbarian camp. That's what I told him. I'm not going to let him turn our city into a barbarian outpost," Wilhelm said.
"You should have been more delicate with an equal," Illadria pointed out tactfully.
Wilhelm was indignant.
"With an orc? More delicate? You've got to be kidding me!"
The sorceress paused for a moment, choosing her words.
"William, you miss the point that your crown does not mean something to everyone. Until the Prophet has not appointed an elder after himself, we senior vassals are equal. And if you spoil your relationship with the Warboss, it will certainly do you no good, do you understand?"
Wilhelm grimaced.
"Yes, I understand. But... Well, the hell with it," he waved his hand. "Anyway, we're not really friends right now, so I don't know what's going on outside the mountains. And you should know too, you've got all the scouting on you. You won't tell me, will you?"
She thoughtfully sipped from her thin cup and began her story.
"In short, everything is according to plan. The Prophet allowed the use of portals for landing, with certain conditions. Orcs hit the biggest settlements on the first day, slaughtering the main local leaders. There is no statehood as such, just parity between the strongest tribes. Goblins, ogres, and trolls mostly, and magically altered beasts. There is also lizardfolk, very far away in the eastern part, they do not interfere in this squabble, so they are not touched yet."
"Lizardfolk?"
"Yes, like the Draconians, only degenerated. So far I know that they are a primitive communal system, with either the beginnings or the remnants of a developed culture. In any case, their habitat is beyond the limits of the intended conquest. No losses especially, less than a hundred orcs as of this morning. Strong opponents were not met, personal participation of Nobs was needed only twice. After the fall of the main settlements only scattered tribes remained. No one there expected a big war. Especially not so fast. Not all the locals even know exactly what's going on, so the orcs are having all the fun. There are collaborators too, the most far-sighted have recognized the power of the orcs at once, and there are more and more of them. Many are fleeing the forest."
"Wilhelm raised an eyebrow with interest."
"Collaborates? Who are they?"
"Mostly goblins, they are used to serving the stronger. There are also ogres and trolls, but they are few. These almost always stand to the death, surrendering only females with babies. By and large, when you finish the path through the mountains, the forest will be completely under our control."
Wilhelm smoothed his beard thoughtfully.
"This is good, just when there was a shortage of building wood and fuel, and here are the workers at once. And orcs are likely to settle there, the valley will be quieter. Do you know the situation outside the forest? I'd like to know about the neighbors beforehand."
"No intelligence has been done there yet, the information is very sketchy. There are small human settlements along the edge of the forest, and that's where our border runs. The Prophet, as you remember, personally went beyond it, and left no instructions for that. His plans should not be disturbed by unnecessary initiative."
"I am interested in the neighbors, because in addition to the current problems there are global ones. The issue of timber is practically solved, but what about fabrics? We won't be able to produce them in the quantities we need. It's the same with paints, clay, and alchemical components. Or silver, gold, iron, coal, even common salt. There hasn't been any deep exploration of the mountains yet, but I can already tell for sure that there are almost no ores or minerals here. Only iron, and not much of it. There are reserves of it all, but they are not bottomless, and it's good to know where to replenish them. Whether it's trade or war, we need to know who we'll be dealing with and think everything through in advance."
"Trust in the Prophet. I'm sure he knows exactly what to do and will show you the way at the right time."
"You're right, but I'm ashamed to rely on Him for anything and everything," Wilhelm said. "We exist to spare Him the trouble of dealing with trivial matters. So I'd prefer to eliminate the problem before it even manifests itself. Or at least have a solution, and preferably more than one."
Illadria put the cup on the saucer and looked bored at the darkened sky.
"And you also want to prove yourself, to be put in charge in his absence."
"Of course. Who else? Warboss? Or Marius, perhaps? Ha! I, and only I, am good for it. I was born for it."
"We've already talked about it, I remember. And don't bother reminding me of our agreement; I remember it, too."
The sorceress stood up smoothly from the table.
"I have to go. It was good to see you."
Wilhelm also stood up.
"I'm glad, too. I'm sorry if I was rude, I'm sorry."
"I'm used to it. I'll see you."
Illadria's figure disappeared into a myriad of rapidly extinguishing fireflies. Wilhelm smoothed his beard again. A remarkable woman. Beauty, intelligence, patience, tact. She would make a far better wife for the Prophet and mother for the heir than a mentally unstable demon.
And much more controllable.
Twilight was gathering in the Great Forest of Tob. A favorite time for any hunter. Any prey is especially wary at this time. And intelligent ones included.
Ryu, who had recently been the chief hunter, cautiously poked half his face out of the grass over the cliff. The cliff is not that high, four meters, no more. At a distance of two arrow flights a small lake, at the point where the underground river came to the surface. And there was a settlement on the bank. As big as three of Ryu's former settlements.
It's well hidden, all around cliffs and trees up to the sky. If you don't know where it is, you can't find it, you can't see it. Only by the tracks. If the local hunters are fools. And there are no fools here.
But Ryu knew where the settlement was, he had been here before. Other goblins had come from here to Ryu's settlement for women and slaves. They took what they wanted. The settlement was then halved in size. Ryu followed them for many days at that time. Those goblins came here.
What could one little Ryu do then? Nothing. Just watch and remember. But there is much he can do now.
Life changed abruptly after the orcs raid. When he was shot in the leg, he thought he was going to be killed. The orc laughed at him, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him back to the burning settlement. Thrown into the pit. There were already many goblins in the pit, women, and very young children. There was so much screaming that Ryu thought his head would burst. After Ryu, a few more goblins were thrown in, also wounded.
Then they took them out one by one. When they pulled Ryu out, he didn't even fight back. His body was almost out of blood, his leg was swollen. He didn't want to die, but he was ready. He was thrown on the meeting ground under the feet of the conquerors. And between them stood the same elf. Standing by himself, as if they hadn't pierced his legs with spears.
The elf did not seek revenge. He only asked. How he had been hunted down, how he had been caught. Ryu did not want to be tortured, so he told everything. The elf gods did not demand torture. Ryu hoped for a quick death. But the elf just talked to the head orc and left. Then the orc spoke to Ryu.
Then everything became clear. New masters had come to the forest. Strong, brave, and cunning. Ryu could choose whether to serve them or die. Of course, Ryu chose to serve, and he did not regret it.
First they cured his leg. They gave him some tasty drink, his leg itched and was as good as new. Then Ryu helped interrogate the other goblins, giving them the main message. Serve or die.
So Ryu became chief among the survivors. And he also began to lead orcs to other villages, so that they could attack unexpectedly. Then he was allowed to appoint leaders among the other survivors. He was responsible for the choice by his head and was very careful. If anyone could cause trouble, Ryu would kill him himself, at once. Just in case.
He was given everything he wanted. Food, the right to all kinds of women, even allowed to take something from the loot. Of course, he didn't have to get cocky. The slaps they gave them were hard. They also didn't torture prisoners.
Ryu didn't understand it at first, but then he did. He heard it, matched it, and understood it. A god had sent them to war. A very powerful god who spoke to them himself. No shamans or poison pollen. Their god was not interested in pain, no need to torture anyone. On the contrary, it's better to kill quickly.
The goblin gods do not approve of a quick death. They love screams and cries. But who cares about the goblin gods? Where are they? And the orcs are right here, and their god doesn't like it. A strange god, demands little, gives much. Live, love, kill whoever they say. In return, there will be no hunger, no pain, no fear. And after death - just a dream. If you serve well, God wakes you up and you live again. It may not be that simple, but it's better than the goblin gods. They demand much and give little. And not for everyone.
Ryu likes to torment, but he can be tolerant if necessary. He too wanted to pray to such a powerful god, but the orcs only laughed at him. They said he had to earn it.
Nothing ever came easy to Ryu. He always deserved what he had. Earn the right to pray? He would earn it.
Today he led the orcs to another settlement. It was nice that the green death was obeying him. No need to be flattered, but it was nice.
Here it is, the ruiners' settlement. The fence is ogre-high, with a moat in front of it, and stakes staked at the bottom.
What could little Ryu do then? Nothing. Cry out of anger and walk away. What could he do now? Put two fingers under his tongue and blow a deafening whistle.
The ogres were angry. They were over three meters tall, incredibly hardy, and monstrously strong. They had always considered themselves the masters of this part of the forest, and they had always been treated as such by its inhabitants. Even in foreign territory, ogres were rarely attacked. Ogres always took what they wanted, and that was always normal.
Now, something incredible was going on. The chief of the tribe was outraged.
His tribe, part of a conglomerate of tribes, was moving into a large settlement. To pay tribute to the paramount chief, to confer, to divide the territory, to sort things out. Halfway across the day's march to the settlement, he encountered the pitiful scraps of another tribe. A dozen big men had lost their chief and families. Exhausted, wounded, burned.
After a short conversation, it turned out that they had fled the settlement. That the overgrown goblins had attacked the place and killed everyone. The chief laughed and told to kill the cowards.
As the tribe reached the settlement, he realized that there was some truth in the story. The huge settlement was a smoking ruin. A search of the ruins yielded very little. Hundreds of hacked-up corpses of ogres, goblins, pigmen. Not a soul alive, the bodies badly chopped
And then the tribe was attacked. Not the main force, only about a hundred men. The goblins, but they were chest-high, almost armorless, and had horrible-looking axes.
The chief quickly realized why those he met were fleeing from battle. The overgrown goblins were incredibly ferocious, fierce, and skilled fighters. The ogres took the attack relaxed, relying on their size, strength, and the thickness of their skins.
And they were very wrong. They were much larger than the strange goblins, and much stronger, too. Otherwise... The first row of ogres was simply shredded. The goblins attacked in unison, three on one, one ducking under their feet, the second kicking their arms, and the third jumping on their shoulders and stabbing them in the face. As soon as the bloodied carcass fell, the goblins would lunge at the next victim. The confusion and anger of the ogres at the rear only made the situation worse; ogres' clubs were not the kind of weapon that was convenient to hit a fast opponent with. A scramble ensued, with these goblins piranhas and tearing apart the clumsy strongmen.
The chief realized at once that he was not going to get anywhere in this fight, so he ordered a retreat. Even if his men had won that hundred, there were clearly many more. He had to throw most of the tribe into the ruins of the city to hold off the enemy, and run shamefully away. He was still haunted by the fierce cries of the tribe dying under the axes of the strangers, as soon as he closed his eyes.
The ogre sensed that these goblins were not here in passing, that they would still have to be confronted, and he wanted to be ready for that. He brought the rest of his tribe to the village near the pond he passed through on his way to settlement and decided to wait here.
The local goblins weren't happy about it, but who cares what a goblin thinks. The ogre chief only cared about food, walls, and meat for the first ranks of the fray, and here it was all there. All unnecessary structures were dismantled, the wall was reinforced, and stakes were added to the moat. All that remained was to wait.
At last.
The quiet woods surrounding the lake exploded with a multi-voiced roar as darkness fell.
"WAAAAAAAGH!"
The chieftain kicked the goblin, considered the leader here, and blew the old, broken horn he always wore on his chest. The sleeping ogres awoke, crawling out of their tents and barns. Angry and sleep-deprived, they walked over the goblins' heads toward the walls.
The chieftain runs around the settlement, pushing the laggards along. He wanted the goblins to take the first hit, but the ogres simply ignored them, and it was too late to change course. There was no time to regroup. And the green ones were glad, scattering out from under their feet and hiding.
"You will pay for this later!" The ogre raged, seeing the scattered host.
And from the forest cliff, the enemies were already advancing. In the darkness at this distance, the ogre could not tell what formation they were in, or even how many of them there were. But he could see that they were carrying long logs.
He realized too late what was going on. His hopes for the moat and the walls, low though they were, were in vain. When they reached the moat, the goblins, straddling the logs on either side, began throwing them against the walls.
"WAAAAAAAAAGH!"
The ogres behind the wall, unable to see what was going on, were frantic with the desire to break the skulls of underdogs. The chief's warning cries were not heeded.
The overgrown goblins, having thrown the edge of a log against the wall, immediately scrambled up the wall. A few seconds and the first of them were within sight of the ogres. Only they knew what they were going to see, and the ogres didn't. And so they struck first.
"WAAAAAAAAAGH!"
There was a surprise for them, too - the ogres now had armor. The ogre leader took his strongest warriors with him, his elite, who were armed with the best. The blows of the first wave brought only a rumble, and the response did not take a moment.
One of the ogres got his bearings, after all, a few clubs went up and down in the darkness, and there was a wet crunch and a wheeze. One ogre managed to catch his attacker by the shoulder, pin him against the wall, and then swing his fist into his chest. The blow was so powerful that the wall shook, and the blood-splattered generously all around.
The first wave of attackers was repulsed, but only the first... The enemies kept coming, the armor-clad ogres no longer even observing the appearance of formation, but simply waving their clubs at random. Sometimes successfully, most often not.
"CHOP THE FATTIES! WAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
One by one the armored carcasses fell. Some were wounded in the legs, some were already dead, each one's fate sealed. The chief gritted his teeth. He did not stand in formation, but watched the battle from a distance, so it was easier to see what was going on and so it was easier to command.
Total defeat. Walls, armor, preparations, all useless. Well, at least these green bastards wouldn't get off easy. The chieftain roared and dashed for the walls.
The triumphant entrance into the fight didn't work. He swung wide, but he lost his balance with a sharp pain on the back of his knee, and the cudgel clattered awkwardly against the wall. A moment more, another flash of pain, and his arm fell away. The chieftain fell on his side, tried to turn around to at least grab one of the insolent creatures with his healthy arm. He looked back, and all he could see was the edge of a razor-sharp axe in front of him.
Ryu stayed out of the fight. No one called him, and he didn't get upset at all. When a lion fights a bull, it's better for a jackal to stay away. He did his job. He showed them the place, helped them get there unnoticed, and gave them a sign.
It has been that way before, and it will be that way again. The forest has a new master and a new god. And woe to him who didn't realize it in time.