Orc Lord

“Hey,” one soldier said, tossing away a shovel-full of mud.

The soldier next to him stomped his own shovel into the mud and grunted, “Yeah?”

“Do you think… we might actually win this war?”

The other soldier shrugged and tossed more mud away, bending down to pick up something he saw shining, which turned out to be a blade with a greenish orihalcum hue. “I dunno. We might? His majesty’s a better commander than I expected, at least.”

“That’s pretty lukewarm of you,” the first soldier laughed. “This is our second major victory in as many days. His majesty took down a whole retinue of assassins in his nighties!”

“Heh, yeah.” The second soldier turned the magical blade over in his hand. “We lost our food, though. Any idea what we’re gonna eat tomorrow?”

“No idea, but I’m sure his majesty will figure out something.”

“A month ago, I’d’ve told you not to hold your breath, but now…? Yeah, why not? Long live the king.”

The first soldier grinned and dug his shovel deeper. “Long live the king!”

***

General Hoffman stood near the northern edge of camp, lit more by torchlight than the weak glow of dawn. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes on the horizon, but nothing out there stirred.

“… Anything?”

He asked the soldier next to him, one of the lookouts, selected because of a vision-enhancing skill. They would be able to see much farther and clearer than he.

“No sir,” the lookout replied.

The General held back a sigh and turned to pat the soldier on the shoulder.

“I’m sure they’re just running a little late. Keep an eye out.”

“Yes sir.”

The General returned to the command tent. Unpleasant as the prospect was, he now had to begin planning under the assumption that the forces he’d sent to raid the enemy camp were lost. It was a non-negligible number of men, so all he could hope was that they had taken out a good number of Claymore forces before they died. The lack of information was truly painful at a time like this.

Speaking of information, however, the General startled at the sight of an unexpected guest in his command tent. Orc Queen Vyra was there, seated casually on the floor. Prince Verde stood in a corner of the tent, as far from the monster as possible, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

“You—how did you get in here?!” General Hoffman asked indignantly.

The monster raised a brow in his direction and tapped the carpet. “I made a tunnel,” she stated simply, as if that wasn’t a huge breach in trust and decorum. “We’re going to need it, I figure, since you lost the bet.”

“What?”

“The bet we made. You lost it. Your troops were completely routed, and the enemy only lost some food and a couple of lookouts in exchange. They’re digging the precious metals I gave your Kingdom out of the mud as we speak.”

The General felt his blood chilling, but he wasn’t ready to just take this monster at her word. “And I’m supposed to just take your word for it?”

“Will you only trust what I say when it’s good news?” she smirked. “I’m the one who told you where the enemy camp was. Of course I had eyes on it.”

Hoffman frowned, “I can’t exactly hand over control of my army to a monster without even seeing any evidence that what you say is true.”

“Ha!” The Orc Queen laughed without mirth. “Give it an hour at most then. Not all of your men got caught in the mud; the ones who were toward the back should be returning soon.”

The Orc Queen folded her arms and shut two of her three eyes. She clearly had no intention of leaving, and the General didn’t want to broadcast the fact that their command tent had been breached so easily. So, Hoffman started discussing next steps with Prince Verde.

Soon, they were interrupted by a voice from outside.

“Sir!” A soldier called through the tent wall, “it’s Captain Orvas, returned from the enemy camp! Permission to enter, sir?”

The General turned to glare at the monstress, who was already peeling up the corner of the carpet and sinking silently into the earth. He gritted his teeth and called back, “Permission granted, captain.”

A healthy young man in full-plate entered the command tent and saluted. He had his helmet off to show respect, and a weary, shadowed look on his face.

“Status update. How did the mission go?”

“Sir, of the 250 troops who went to raid the enemy camp, one hundred and six are dead. The main force was unable to approach due to the condition of the terrain. The detachment was able to fulfill one of its goals: the enemy food stores were destroyed, but they weren’t able to assassinate the enemy king. The explosion worked against us, waking the enemy camp and giving them the opportunity to freely shoot our troops who were caught in the mud.”

The General controlled himself not to act as furious as he was, replying coolly, “Thank you for the report, soldier. Dismissed. You and your company get some rest.”

“Sir, yes sir!” With a lingering look of shame, the captain left the command tent.

General Hoffman clenched his fists in frustration, but Prince Verde looked unsurprised.

I’ll bet she knew about the mud flat north of the enemy camp, Verde thought. If she’d wanted to, she could have warned us.

It felt bad. The prince knew that the General was being played, but what could he do about it? The Orc Lord had decided she wanted to borrow their army, and the general wasn’t allowed to know that Vyra was the Orc Lord, either.

The prince just had to be satisfied with the answer he’d gotten for himself before the General walked in.

“Are you really going to let our country win this war?”

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

“Why? Wouldn’t you like to annihilate us along with everyone else?”

“Honestly, I would enjoy that. But, for various reasons, I need you and your country to survive this war, your highness.”

“Is that enough evidence for you?” came a muffled voice from underground. The carpet bulged and rolled back and the monstress rose back up out of the soil. “Now that that’s settled, here are the rules. First:”

Vyra reached out, wrapped her oversized hand around the general’s head and twisted it forcefully on its axis. His spine snapped and he crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Prince Verde jerked back in terror but gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound to alert anyone outside or redirect the Orc Lord’s ire.

Vyra looked at the prince, “He was too rebellious, and the quality of command is about to noticeably change, so you’ll be in charge on paper from now on. Is that understood?”

The prince clenched his white-knuckles fists. “I won’t say no since I don’t want to die.”

“Thank you,” the monstress smiled and nodded. “Your army is mine to command: you pass on my orders exactly, no more and no less. I’ll come in secret via this tunnel so that the men think you’re still leading them. And we’ll disguise the general’s death as a suicide.”

Verde smiled bitterly and let his head hang. He felt bile rising in his throat but kept it back with willpower. I wanted to lead the army, but not like this.

“I got it.”

“Good. Second rule: our armies will remain separated. I’m going to use only the forces and resources that your army has at its disposal: humans versus humans. A battle of force would end too quickly, I want to clash wits against the man who lit the swamp on fire with his enemy’s torches.”

Verde sighed. “Are there more rules?”

“Not yet,” she shrugged.

“Then what are your orders, your majesty?” A hint of contempt leaked into his voice, but the Orc Lord only smiled knowingly.

“Once the General here “commits suicide”, convince the army that he left you in command. Claymore must’ve sent some men to follow your fleeing soldiers. They need food, and they know where your camp is, so we need to be ready to receive them. Here’s the plan…”