Ogre Tyrant

Chapter 21 – Sounds of war – Part Two

Chapter 21 - Sounds of war - Part Two

Taking in the sight of the shambling corpses, I was vaguely reminded of a dozen or so different zombie movies I had seen while on Earth. They were slow and poorly coordinated, but they also seemed completely undeterred by any form of harm or discomfort.

The first of the smaller undead to enter a pool or section of water would disappear entirely, almost certainly torn to shreds by the piranhas dwelling within. However, by the time a second or third undead entered the same body of water, the swarm of piranhas would already be floating dead and lifeless on the surface.

After watching this process repeat itself a few times, I realised that a protracted engagement with the walking dead would only prove fatal. Whether it was because their blood and flesh were deeply poisonous, or if they possessed a literal aura of death, I did not think the somewhat anemic constitutions of the Serpent-kin would fare well in combat in either case.

To my immense surprise, the Asrus soldiers had begun quickly forming a defensive crescent both ahead and wrapping back around my own position on either side. Only three ranks deep, I sincerely doubted the soldiers battle line would be able to hold back one of the putrid hulks for more than a few moments before being either dashed apart or cast aside.

Even so, they formed ranks without complaints, and I briefly wondered if perhaps the effect of the banner was responsible. I had only begun to consider the possibilities when two senior officers presented themselves before me. A middle-aged man and woman, I recognised them from the Colonel’s camp. The man, although higher ranked, still appeared to hold the woman in high esteem.

“Chieftain Tim, I am Cpt. Kristof of Asrus kingdom’s ninth legion, and this is Lt. Rook of same,” Cpt. Kristof's speech was clipped and taciturn, giving the impression that he was not used to speaking so many words consecutively. “Our infantry will screen against outlying threats while Archers and Rangers provide support from within the defensive perimeter,” he shifted uncomfortably for a moment before preparing to speak again, but was interrupted by his companion.

“You are too important to risk,” Lt. Rooke stated bluntly, “It would be best if you prioritised your safety and took up a second defensive position inside of your Settlement.”

“No,” my reply caught them both off guard. “I will not retreat until every one of the refugees is safely within Sanctuary’s walls.”

The pair of officers stared at me for a couple of moments before the woman broke the silence.

“Fine,” Lt. Rooke agreed, much to the surprise of Cpt. Kristof, “But my Rangers could be put to far better use with some tactical elevation,” she pointed to the gatehouse, “With your permission, I would like to take up an overwatch position with my men in your gatehouse.” The way Lt. Rooke asked the question made it somewhat clear that she already had an argument prepared to justify the request.

Even though the gatehouse would provide an expansive view of Sanctuary as well as the approaching undead, I had already made my peace with the fact that the soldiers would be entering Sanctuary and would see certain parts anyway. There were simply too many undead, if I didn’t let the human soldiers retreat inside, I doubted they would be able to break through and return to their own camp without devastating losses.

“Fine,” I agreed, much to her apparent surprise. “Lower the ladders!” I called out loud enough for the defenders in the gatehouse to hear.

“You will allow us within your Settlement?” Cpt. Kristof asked, his eyes darting between the approaching undead, his own soldiers and the gate of Sanctuary.

I nodded, doing my best to convey the reluctance I had for such a necessity. There was technically nothing about the Settlement itself that could cause any problems by observation alone. Even the Grove was something that while rare, was far from unique. But allowing the soldiers inside would drastically limit the Daemons freedom of movement as well as their contributions to Sanctuary’s upkeep.

At the rate the refugees were entering Sanctuary, there was a very real possibility that open fighting with the undead could be avoided altogether. However, the way the undead horde was fanning out reinforced my reluctant decision to allow the humans inside.

I was momentarily distracted by a string of golden status alerts in my lower peripheral vision and then the bright flashes of light from the brothers bearing my banner. Alongside the Surgeons, I had invited them into my personal retinue in order to earn them as much Exp as possible from treating the refugees.

My Banner Bearers were not alone, as more refugees streamed through the gatehouse and into the safety of Sanctuary, human soldiers would briefly flash with golden light, though the light was not nearly as intense and did not linger as long.

The first attack made against the undead came from Lt. Rooke up in the boughs of the gatehouse tree. The arrow she loosed didn’t seem all that special, the fletching only buzzing faintly as it whipped through the air and towards one of the bloated hulks.

However, just before striking the enemy, the arrow burst into flames then smacked into an exposed section of its pale putrid flesh.

As if doused in kerosine, the putrid hulk spontaneously combusted, its skin erupting into flames. Unfortunately, a half-second later, the flames were completely extinguished, revealing that the undead was seemingly unharmed.

No doubt dissatisfied with the results of her first attack, Lt. Rooke fired again, this time targeting the hulk’s armoured head.

Her arrow flew true and disappeared into the hulk’s visored helmet.

Conditioned by years of zombie movies and television shows, I was shocked when the putrid hulk just seemed to ignore the traumatic brain injury like it was nothing. The arrow hadn’t even noticeably slowed it down at all.

Judging by the unphased, yet undoubtedly dour expression on Cpt. Kristof’s face, I was very likely the only one who had expected a different outcome.

As the undead drew closer, the other Rangers and Archers began opening fire. Unlike Lt. Rooke, they focused their attention on the smaller and less armoured bodies of the shambling Goblins and Serpent-kin.

Almost all the refugees were now sheltered within Sanctuary, but only a handful of walking corpses had been felled. The prospect of so many undead assaulting the gate functionally uncontested drew a deep-seated resentment within me. As the shambling undead continued to draw closer, I grew restless and decided that I needed to do something.

“Spear!” I snarled, holding out my right hand expectantly as I released a familiar wave of mana into my bloodstream.

A nearby Serpent-kin obediently placed their wooden spear into my hand as a palpable aura of expectation spread amongst those minions present.

Picking a target at random, I settled on one of the putrid hulks located near the front of the undead horde. Hurling the spear with all my might, I watched it arc through the air with a grim sense of satisfaction. With my only source of experience at javelin throwing coming from high school sports, I held no delusions about expecting to hit my target. Much to my Phys-Ed teacher’s sorrow, I was pathologically incapable of landing a javelin within the scoring zone.

*BOOM*

The near deafening crack of thunder was accompanied by a bright flash of light from the Banner Bearers. When the light faded, chunks of rotten flesh and torn limbs were still raining down ahead and on top of the undead horde.

As I had expected, I missed. My throw had gone long and wide to the left, likely having missed my sighted target by ten or more feet in spite of its immense size.

“Another!” I held my hand out expectantly and sighted my next target. I knew I wouldn’t hit whatever I aimed at, so the key would be in harming the target through collateral damage.

Taking a short run of a half dozen steps, I threw my second spear. Watching it arc towards the undead, I could already tell that it too had gone wide. I closed my eyes and slowly retraced my steps, holding out my hand for another spear.

*BOOM*

When the bright flash came again, I was unphased, my eyes protected from the bright intensity. I could see two thinned areas amidst the ranks of the undead horde still implacably shambling towards our position. To my intense aggravation, they were either side of the leading hulk.

Even though I still had mana to spare, I decided to hold it in reserve. Just about all of the refugees had now entered Sanctuary and by my current estimation, everyone would easily manage to withdraw before the undead reached our current position.

I frowned and reconsidered the shambling horde of undead. They were far too slow to catch anyone in the open, even the human soldiers could still skirt around them and return to their own base if they were careful enough. So why had the enemy sent them? Something didn’t feel right...

Unable to dismiss the feeling, I hastily cobbled together a quest for the Daemons to share with the Surgeons and Porters. The only reason I could think of for the enemy to ‘allow’ the refugees to ‘escape’ unharmed, was if their plan depended or accounted for it already.

In my haste to see the refugees to safety, we had forgone individually inviting them to the Settlement, from screening them for disease and other Status Conditions...

<Lord! Multiple hostiles have been detected! They are congregating in the vicinity of the hospital!> Gric’s telepathic communication was urgent, but not panicked.

I was then vaguely aware of a couple dozen other such voices whispering in the periphery of my mind. It wasn’t that the Daemons were using my brain as a relay, so much as my own connection to each of the Daemons through Sanctuary’s Totem was too primitive and I hadn’t disconnected from the communication as cleanly as I should have.

With my paranoia vindicated, I felt no relief. Instead, my anxiety only seemed to multiply. I had allowed a pack of wolves through my front door uncontested and had no idea of what they were capable of. The fact that they were converging on the hospital made it even worse.

Was this the enemy’s plan? To trigger an orgy of violence amongst the wounded and massacre my healers?

I knew that trusting the humans completely would almost certainly backfire, but leaving them ignorant of the threat would be far worse. I amended the quest targets to include both Cpt. Kristof and Lt. Rooke. After a moment's thought, I included Toby, Clarice, Nadine and Col. Klive. If the enemy had infiltrated Sanctuary, then it was entirely possible that they had snuck inside of the humans military base as well.

Cpt. Kristof immediately shifted his entire attention to me, his dark eyes scrutinising my masked face for a few seconds before looking purposefully towards the last refugees being shepherded through the gatehouse. “You are certain?” Col. Kristof asked dourly, his deep voice surprisingly devoid of doubt in spite of the requested confirmation.

I nodded and pulled down my mask. With so many non-citizens entering Sanctuary at once, I had not been able to determine friend from foe. “Your men can’t be trusted,” I stated bluntly, “Do not leave the vicinity of the gatehouse.” I left the obvious threat of ‘or else’ unspoken.

Cpt. Kristof gave a nearly imperceptible nod before turning back to his men to begin issuing orders for their withdrawal into Sanctuary.

“Back through the gate!” I waved expansively and directed the Serpent-kin and Deep Orcs to retreat back into Sanctuary. I tried to remain calm, convinced that any one of the refugees on the other side of the gate could be an enemy, and that any over hostile action could trigger a bloodbath.

I had little fear for my own people. After all, most, if not all, had some form of Class and had levelled up multiple times, making them far stronger than they otherwise would be. Somewhat ironically, it was the refugees I was most concerned for. With so many of them already wounded, and an absurd number of children...

Looking out over the milling throngs of refugees, I could see a veritable horde of children being led towards the safest location in Sanctuary, the Grove. It made sense of course, without orders to do otherwise, the Serpent-kin and Deep Orcs were acting true to their base nature, preserving the future generations.

With a sudden painful twisting in my gut, I knew I had stumbled across the enemy’s primary objective. He wanted to gut Sanctuary from the inside out, he wanted to provoke an open war, a war where he could use their grief to bait them into ambush after ambush, until there was no one left...

“Lash?!” I looked around but saw no immediate sign of her. I had intended to have her use her pulsing barrier as a last resort. The stipulation of enemy and allies in different Abilities suggested that they could differentiate targets independently of the user.

I was about to issue a quest to the Daemons, but I stopped and altered it as I recognised Lash amongst those escorting the children. Instead, I directed the quest to Ril. Lash, the other escorts and the Goblin children had very nearly reached the Grove, there was no way I would be able to reach them in time. So, my quest for Ril was simple, to have Lash use her Ability and have the escorting adults fend off the hostiles as long as possible while I brought help.

<Understood!> Ril’s response came immediately upon receiving the quest, <Other Daemons notified, coordinating response.> Her sudden shifts in demeanour were something I still wasn’t used to. One moment RIl would behave like a six-year-old, another like she was in her mid-teens. Then there were situations like these where she would take on the slavish mannerisms of a cadet in a movie version of boot camp.

I decided that for the time being at least, it didn’t matter. There were far more important issues at stake than a week old Daemon’s personality disorder.

<Lord!> The skittish communication identified Wraithe almost immediately, <There have been almost forty cases of the Blood Pox Condition despite the absence of symptoms! Only the higher levelled Hospice Surgeons have been able to identify those infected thus far!>

<What about the hostiles?!> I demanded, my thoughts muddling through the message as best as I was able.

<None of those flagged as hostile have taken action, but they are acting suspiciously. What are your orders?> Wraithe’s nervous energy was infectious and it took me a moment to shake it off.

<Have porters shadow them. If they become overtly hostile, try to restrain them. If they are undead, destroy them.> Assuming the worst, I didn’t feel like I had any other choice. The enemy had not only sent a trojan horse of enemies amongst the refugees, but he had infected them with what I could only assume was measles as well...

<As you will, Lord!> Wraithe promptly severed the connection, but I still felt the bridge forming to other Daemons in her vicinity before it cut completely.

Forcing myself to appear as calm as possible, I replaced my mask and determinedly headed towards the Grove, ignoring the small party of ragged refugees trailing along behind me.

Separated from the other Goblins, the differences were like night and day.

The Goblins trailing behind me had paler skin and pockmarked rashes. Then there was the unsettlingly intense hunger in their eyes...

A shockwave of rapidly expanding amethyst light signalled the beginning of Sanctuary’s counter-assault. As I had hoped it would, Lash’s barrier drove out the enemies hidden amongst the crowded mass of children while leaving the children more or less unharmed.

Caught by surprise, the formerly hidden enemies were too stunned to react and caught a second wave of Lash’s barrier as she urged the other Deep Orcs and accompanying Serpent-kin to usher the children to the safety of the Grove.

The infected Goblins following me were the first to react, screaming and bodily throwing themselves at me with their teeth bared.

Pushing their similarities to Toofy from my mind as best as I was able, I stepped back and swept my left hand out in a vicious arcing backhand.

*BOOM*

The first Goblin violently exploded in a spray of splintered bones and gore, the shockwave sending its seven companions tumbling through the air and crashing into the ground. Two of them suffered broken arms, while another’s leg was thoroughly dislocated.

[You have slain {Forest Goblin (Wight): 2 } +600 Exp]

Sparing only a half-second to check the Status Alert to confirm my suspicions, I hardened my heart and brought my foot down on the prone scrambling form of the crippled Goblin.

*Crunch*

Even though I wasn’t sure what a Wight was exactly, I didn’t really doubt that it was some form of undead. Most notably because the Goblin I had just crushed underfoot had been roughly forced in two, yet was still scrambling to claw and bite at my leg.

Just like the Deep Orc Ghouls, physical contact with the Goblin Wights had triggered black Status Alerts of their own.

[ You have successfully resisted a {Life Steal} effect. ]

Reading one of the Status Alerts was a mistake, my momentary pause provided an opening for the remaining undead Goblins to renew their attack and generate dozens of new Alerts in the span of a few seconds.

Even though my HP remained unchanged, and the Goblin Wights failed to pierce my skin, their claws left a lingering chill against my skin all the same.

More than a little freaked out by what the Life Steal effect implied, I swiped wildly at the Goblin Wights with my morningstar while trying to avoid touching them as much as possible.

Unfortunately, the undead Goblins were too small and quick, nimbly dodging aside or ducking under my sweeping blows.

While I was far from beginning to feel tired, repeatedly missing with my attacks and being bombarded with black Status Alerts was taking a psychological toll.

Frustrated, I was about to resort to channelling mana for Thundering Strikes in an attempt to stun or destroy them with the concussive area of effect. However, just as I was about to do so, two of the Goblin Wights suddenly stumbled and were held firm by small roots wrapping around their lower legs and ankles.

The whole patch of ground around me had come alive, roots whipping and wrapping around the confused undead as they attempted to leap away from one mass of roots only to become ensnared by other roots coming at them from behind.

Trying not to think too much, I dashed the undead apart with my morningstar.

A similar scene took place in a few pockets of fighting around Sanctuary, as roots and branches dragged the undead Goblins to the ground or at least hampered their ability to dodge long enough for Deep Orc’s and Serpent-kin to stab, bash and slash them to pieces.

While I wanted to think Hana had been responsible, the grappling vegetation’s movements were far too stilted and aggressive to have been her handiwork.

True enough, I could see the poorly disguised forms of Daemon Druids skulking through the barrows near each of the conflicts that had taken place. Furthermore, I could just about make out Qreet swiftly headed towards the hospital from the direction of the Grove.

Assuming there was still more fighting that needed doing, I glanced briefly towards Lash and the other defenders dispatching the undead separated from the children. Confident that they had things well in hand, I ran off towards the hospital as well.

It was complete chaos.

Dead and dying Goblins were bleeding on the ground while Surgeons and porters were locked in a deadly battle against dozens of Goblin Wights, all while the wounded refugees cowered and ran for their lives.

Qreet was standing stock still in the entrance doorway, her gaze locked intently on the undead and her fingers feverishly spasming through different motions in such rapid succession that her hands looked like twisted bony spiders.

However, Qreet’s efforts proved insufficient to stem the tide of violence, as each Wight she forcibly drew out of the bloody melee was replaced by two others.

“YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” Hana’s scream from the second floor caused the hospital itself to quiver and shake.

*Shunk*

A branch as thick as my arm tore up through one of the undead, expanding to twice its width in under a heartbeat and causing the Wight to rip apart.

*Thwack, Shonk, Thwick”

More branches and roots ripped out of the floor, ceiling and walls, grasping or impaling the bewildered undead and tearing them to pieces like some timber variant of a Lovecraftian Elder God.

As devastating as Hana’s rage-fuelled assault on the invaders was proving to be, there were some very close calls as the wooden tentacles homed in on cowering refugees. However, each time they drew close to a refugee, Qreet would twist and drag her arms as if wrestling with an invisible titan which would then cause the attack to be redirected elsewhere.

Knowing the Daemon Druid would not be able to match Hana for long, I discarded my morning star and left the hospital. Looking up towards the second floor, I braced my legs and then jumped high enough to grab hold of a windowsill. Dragging myself in through the window, I could see Hana wreathed in a deep emerald haze of mana, her face fixed in a mask of pure hatred.

Nearby, the familiar rodent-like form of Wraithe was bodily shielding her patient, the numerous ragged bleeding wounds on her body and the mutilated pockmarked corpses in the immediate area serving as a testament to her devotion to duty.

“HANA!” I shouted and began moving towards her while trying to think of how to calm her down.

At least a little surprised, Hana gave a start and her aura of mana briefly flickered before a spiked branch erupted from the floor and very nearly gored me in the stomach. “SO!...MUCH!..PAIN!” Hana screamed, her limbs visibly shaking with spasms and tremors.

The floor became a carpet of half-inch thorns that pierced my feet, ironically dealing the first damage I had taken from the whole invasion.

Gritting my teeth, I staggered forward. My sheer weight crushed most of the thorns underfoot, but the small cuts already opened by the first thorns allowed others to slip into the flesh of my feet and tore painfully as I raised my feet to take each new step.

I had now managed to come within arms reach of Hana, but my feet were a bloody mess and several sizable spikes had begun growing from the floor, walls and ceiling. I had to make a choice. If I left Hana as she was now, there was no telling how much damage she would do, not just to the refugees and those within the hospital, including myself, but to Sanctuary’s defences as a whole.

*Clap*

Despite dialling back my strength considerably, my heart ached and my face flushed with shame as Hana toppled to the ground. Regardless of the rationale and justifications I had for doing so, slapping Hana in her distressed state made me feel dirty.

The protruding spikes stilled and then slowly began to conform back into the interwoven structure of the building. A short while later, the thorns browned and flaked away as well.

Even though it hurt to move about, I made sure to move Hana onto a convalescence bed near the unconscious forms of Wraithe and her patient. My open-handed slap had knocked Hana out cold, and to my immense shame, broken her jaw.

It didn’t take long for one of the Daemon Surgeons to rush up to the second floor to tend to Wraithe’s open wounds. Once recovered, it was Wraithe who then tended to myself and Hana, despite my protests that the Daemon should rest and allow her wounds to fully heal first.

However, whether it was because of loyalty, a rebellious streak or a twisted interpretation of the Hippocratic oath, Wraithe chose to ignore me, and after tending to us, limped downstairs to tend to others.

Left alone with Hana and the young woman Wraithe had so doggedly protected, I couldn’t help but wince as I assessed the damage. It was clear that one of the Hospice Surgeons had already made preliminary attempts at treatment. The young woman's extensive burns had been liberally coated in what smelled of aloe, although there was also the acrid stench of burnt sugar and something else.

Unable to be clothed without the fabric irritating her wounds, her bare naked body exposed the horrifying extent of the damage. I conservatively estimated that ninety-five to ninety-seven per cent of the young woman's body was covered in severe burns. The empty cavities of her eye sockets made it obvious that the young woman was blind, and from what I could make out from between her broken black teeth, her tongue was not likely to recover.

It was more than just morbid curiosity that compelled me to examine her condition, it was guilt. Despite the noticeable withering of the ears and her discoloured skin, just by Hana’s reaction alone, I could only assume that this young woman was another Dryad. Somehow she and Hana had shared experiences through a special link and with Hana’s previous trauma, it had driven her into a hysterical fit of grief fuelled rage. I couldn’t blame Hana for how she reacted, but I needed to keep an eye on her to make sure she wouldn’t lose control like that again. Despite how much we needed her, I seriously considered whether there would be any viable methods for keeping Hana unconscious until the Surgeon's efforts had time to reduce the burn victim's pain.

Coordinating with the Daemons in short bursts telepathically, Sanctuary slowly came to order again. However, there was a serious problem, the surviving leaders of the Forest Goblin refugees, a trio of Elders, were refusing to join Sanctuary without first having a personal meeting to negotiate with me first.

Trusting Wraithe and the other Daemon Surgeons to keep a watchful eye on Hana in my absence, I reluctantly headed to the cookfires to negotiate with the Forest Goblin Elders.

Still painfully aware of the undead presence outside of Sanctuary’s walls, I felt somewhat vindicated in my earlier assumption that the enemy intended for Sanctuary to succumb to disease before actually trying anything. The shambling horde had reportedly pulled back out of bow and crossbow range shortly after the gate had closed. Despite their numbers swelling well over a couple thousand in the half-hour after their first appearance, they still made no signs of drawing closer or beginning any form of attack.

Confident in the mundane and Eldritch Abilities of my Surgeons, the prospect of a potential epidemic was still bearing heavily upon my mind as I arrived at the cooking fires.

Contrary to my initial expectations, the three Forest Goblin Elders did not seem to be united in their desire for negotiation.

All three Elders looked to be in their late seventies by human standards, with mottled liver-spotted skin and far more wrinkles than seemed appropriate for people the size of children. They each had two honor guards that somewhat matched the style of dress and mannerisms of their charges.

The first Elder was a male with a clean bandaged stump in place of his right arm, and his body was littered with many smaller scars that could be seen beneath his bloodstained padded cloth and leather armour. Although the Elder’s expression was dour, I could see a grudging respect reflected in his eyes.

The second Elder was a female with strange trophies woven into her bushy white mane of hair and a bird-like carving hanging from her neck that reminded me of Ushu’s spirit focus. She seemed strangely relieved by my arrival, so I assumed she was in favour of her people joining Sanctuary, or at least far less opposed to the idea than the others.

The last Elder, a male with long droopy ears and a tattered gold silk robe appeared to be the holdout. He seemed genuinely frightened of me in spite of the fact that I had already stripped off my bloodstained pants and tunic, lowered my mask, and was making no overtly hostile gestures towards the Elders at all.

Gric had already been attempting negotiations and had been eagerly awaiting my arrival since they suddenly stalled. “Lord! Allow me to introduce the honourable Elders of the Sunrock tribe,” he proceeded to point to each of the Elders in turn, “Elder Skrit is their warleader, Elder Whisp is the tribes foremost Shaman, and Elder Clink is the tribes ‘negotiator’,” Gric put a strange emphasis on the title of negotiator, although I wasn’t sure why.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Tim,” Elder Whisp smiled in greeting, revealing teeth just as sharp as Toofy’s, “For my people, I thank you for saving us all.” She bowed her head deeply and was joined in the gesture by Elder Skrit and their collective four guardians.

“Surprise help appreciated,” Elder Skrit agreed, “Many Sunrock saved, thankful to you.” The Elder's speech was somewhat stilted like Toofy’s, as if he knew what he wanted to say, but struggled to string the right words together to express it in a more articulate manner.

“You’re welcome. Truthfully, my friends and I didn’t know if there would be any other refugees besides the humans, but I am glad we could help,” I explained honestly. It wouldn’t bode well for our relationship if I started it with an easily verifiable lie, so I opted for the truth.

Elders Skrit and Whisp nodded in understanding, but Elder Clink’s right eye twitched irritably.

“Gric has informed me that you have concerns about your people joining Sanctuary?” I asked rather bluntly, unsure of how best to bridge the subject.

Before the other two Elders had a chance to answer, Elder Clink spoke up first, “Ogre-”

I flinched.

“-wants slaves! Sunrock be no more, is a trap!” Elder Clink insisted to his compatriots, barely acknowledging mine or Gric’s presence. “Ancients tell, dark days long enslaved under Ogre and Orcs! Sunrock fight and be free! No enslaved again!” Neither Elder Skrit or Elder Whisp seemed impressed by Elder Clink’s argument.

“Sunrock ancients threw own poop at enemies,” Elder Whisp countered derisively, “Live scared in trees like prey. Sunrock are not prey!”

Elder Skrit nodded in agreement, “Sunrock not prey. Sunrock choose destiny, not dead ancients.”

Elder Clink became more agitated, “Human allies no like Ogre! No trade with Sunrock! No trade, Sunrock be hunted, die!”

Again, neither of the other two Elders seemed to agree with him.

“Human traders betray Sunrock!” Elder Skrit growled angrily, balling his fist so tight his knuckles turned white, “Enslave Shaman! Leave Sunrock to die!”

Elder Clink recoiled behind his protectors, though neither seemed keen on the idea of holding back the one-armed Elder of war. “Lies!” He insisted shrilly, “Ogre lies to make Sunrock slaves!”

Now Elder Whisp was angry too, “Lies?!” She shrieked incredulously, “Lies! Yes! Human trader lies from Clink’s mouth!” Elder Whisp’s eyes began to glow with a light amber, almost golden, light as she took hold of the bird carving hanging from her neck.

Elder Clink grew white as a sheet and fearfully cast his eyes up towards the sky, his pupils darting this way and that like a terrified rabbit.

“Sunrock judge you,” Elder Skrit hissed through curled lips of disgust.

A translucent shimmering golden hawk the size of an SUV appeared behind Elder Whisp, coils of radiant golden mana emanating off of its spectral form.

At once, every Forest Goblin within the vicinity, except Elder Whisp and Elder Clink, fell to their knees and raised their hands in supplication as if in the presence of a god. Which, I supposed they were.

Gric’s expression was far more calculated and controlled, as he was gauging the potential strength of the golden spirit-hawk before us.

“You have summoned me, little ember?” A soft feminine voice lilted from the spirit-hawk’s beak, but it felt more like the limited telepathy of the Daemons than true speech.

Elder Whisp bowed low, her bushy white hair falling over and around her head, “Sunrock, humble servant begs you judge accused traitor of the tribe!” She raised her head slightly and pointed to Elder Clink, who in turn flinched in terror.

The spirit-hawk remained silent, cocking its head to one side as it regarded the covering form of the accused. Without warning, the spirit-hawk disappeared without seeming to have accomplished anything besides scaring the old Forest Goblin half to death. Or so I thought...

“Guilty traitor!” Elder Skrit spat after raising his head, the sentiment shared by the other Goblins, even Clink’s own guards.

Elder Clink had fallen to his knees, his head slumped against his chest. After a few moments, he slumped to one side and fell to the ground, exposing the charred and blackened remains of his eyes still sizzling within his skull.

“It is finished,” Elder Whisp signed regretfully, no doubt recalling better times or perhaps the better elements of the dead Goblin’s character before his unfortunate betrayal. After a minute or so of dwelling upon her own thoughts, she shifted her attention to me instead. “Clink was traitor, but some things said worry us too,” Elder Whisp cautiously explained, her words receiving a small nod of agreement from Elder Skrit. “Sunrock do not wish to be slaves, need to be free to choose own destiny.”

I nodded in understanding, “I think that there is something of a misunderstanding,” I explained, “I don’t want to enslave anyone. But I won’t try and mislead you either. Joining Sanctuary means giving up a small measure of freedom. Just as members of the tribe must bend their will to yours to achieve the most good and overcome disaster, so too would you all need to bend to mine.” I waved expansively at the gathering crowd of Forest Goblins, Deep Orcs and Serpent-kin, “A tribe needs leadership, and that is the role I provide and have provided since founding Sanctuary. I direct people and materials where I think they are needed and can do the most good. I provide advice and take it in turn. I offer Classes to my people, so they can strengthen themselves and better support one another, but I leave their choice on what path to take up to them,” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice so loud, but I was getting swept up in the moment and couldn’t help it, “I don’t want slaves, I want a tribe, a clan, a nation, a family! A place where children can grow old without the fear and predations of war, famine and disease!”

I took a moment to calm myself down and steady my breathing again. The events since my arrival in this world had really left their mark, and I was surprised by how readily the words came once I began to give voice to my feelings.

“I do not rule alone. While no one else has the same level of authority as I do, I am not so arrogant as to believe I know everything, and I frequently consult with those whose opinions I trust in order to make the best decisions I can,” I paused and took a few moments to match the gazes of the two Elders, “By giving up minor freedoms, your people will become stronger and better able to protect themselves. You fear my unjust tyranny? Then lead your people as my advisors and bring greater prosperity for us all!”

I meant every word. I had no intentions of ruling Sanctuary on my own, or being some sort of petty dictator catering to my own desires and ignoring the needs of my people. If the Labyrinth’s Settlement functions didn’t outright force me to be in charge, I would hand the title over to someone else more qualified in a heartbeat. But since I couldn’t do that, recruiting and promoting those best suited to lead and advise was my best alternative.

In the wake of my speech, Sanctuary had become deathly quiet, as if everyone was holding their breath in anticipation of what would happen next.

I began to wonder if perhaps my impassioned speech for united prosperity at the cost of minor freedoms had in fact crossed the line into fascist territory. It was hard to describe how little I controlled the citizens of Sanctuary, especially since there were occasions where I literally did almost the complete opposite and all but outright forced cooperation during periods of crisis. Did that make me a tyrant though?

I was broken from my musings as both Elders took the knee before me, each holding a hand over their heart.

“You have proved friend and ally to Sunrock, Lord Tim,” Elder Whisp proclaimed loudly, deliberately projecting her voice as best as she was able, “I will join you!”

“Skrit witnessed Lord TIm’s strength!” Elder Skrit tensely shook his remaining arm in the air, “Sunrock grow strong again! Stronger! Skrit join Sanctuary!”

With both Elders proclamations complete, the gathered Goblins of the Sunrock tribe cheered and cried out in celebration, and after overcoming their initial surprise at the intensity, Sanctuary’s existing citizens joined in as well.

In comparison to the grand speeches, inviting both Elders into Sanctuary was comparatively anti-climactic, requiring only a brief touch from my hand and for them each to accept the invitation. After inviting both Skrit and Whisp, I began explaining how the Settlement functions worked and that I wouldn’t be able to promote them until the required number of total citizens was met.

Neither of them seemed to mind all that much, very likely having done the rough approximate math on their own and realised that once all of their people were invited to the Settlement, that both of them would then be able to receive promotion.

To put it most simply, the original Settlement had allowed one Lord, one Overseer and three Underlords. After reaching a population of five hundred, every additional two hundred and fifty minions would unlock another Underlord position for promotion. So assuming every Sunrock refugee joined Sanctuary, which seemed like it would be the case, two new Underlord positions would be made available for the Elders to be promoted and make some progress towards the next milestone as well.

True enough, even though it took Gric, Lash and myself the better part of ten minutes of near-constantly inviting the refugees to join Sanctuary, we managed to unlock a fourth Underlord position. After Promoting Whisp and having her bring some more order to the process, the remaining refugees, mostly children at this point, were invited into Sanctuary and assigned temporary housing and light duties while I gave Skrit his promised promotion.

To my surprise, both Forest Goblin Elders qualified as literate and actually knew both the spoken and written language used in the Asrus Kingdom. Once they explained the fact that they had previously established strong trading relations with the ‘human settlement’ on the river and been trading with them for multiple generations, it made a fair bit of sense that they would endeavor to overcome the language barrier in order to secure the best deals and avoid being taken advantage of.

Confident that I could leave them to coordinate their people and make arrangements with Gric for anything they needed, I decided it was high time to have a meeting with the human officers. They had been behaving themselves thus far, near as anyone could tell, but their presence still put some of my people on edge. Given that they would most likely be trapped here for some time, we needed to establish some ground rules and make arrangements for their accommodations. I had anticipated the refugees, but not another two hundred and fifty or so human soldiers.

As if expecting me, both senior officers waited a short distance away from their men, but well within what could be considered the boundaries of the gate.

I had brought Lash with me, because I was feeling more than a little drained from making that speech earlier and putting on a confident front really wasn’t helping my stress levels, so her presence helped keep me a little more centred. Besides, she may notice something I miss, or recognise something important for later.

“Chieftain Tim, it is good to see you are well and have put down the undead insurgents,” the Captain offered in greeting, “If you need assistance in cleansing the area, I can arrange a work detail to-”

“It’s fine, thank you for your concern,” I interjected, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

We really didn’t need the help, or, not in that regard anyway. The higher level Surgeons, both Hospice and Field, had unlocked a sterilisation aura that could be activated to ‘disinfect’ and ‘sterilize’ objects, environments and corpses within somewhat limited distances of themselves. The Daemon Surgeons had already put those with the ability to work cleaning the hospital and the barrows so those already infected with the Blood Pox could be treated without unnecessarily exposing others.

“We were not prepared to house so many people, but assuming you can tough it out for tonight, shelters can be provided for you and your men tomorrow,” I explained hastily, wanting this to be over with.

The Captain nodded, “This is acceptable. We have temporary shelters that can be erected if given a suitable area to make camp. We also have sufficient supplies of food for days under rationing, but arrangements will need to be made for fresh drinking water.”

I nodded in agreement with his requirements and then stopped as I reconsidered the food situation. There were functionally two ways I had thought of generating enough food to stave off mass starvation.

The first, and most dangerous, was to temporarily allow Swamp Lurkers to spawn within Sanctuary. Near as I could tell, they spawned in the water like the piranhas, not on land, so it would be a relatively controlled hunting scenario. The downside was that if I was wrong, there was a high chance that there would be widespread deaths unless we could literally get everyone up off the ground,

The second, and safest, was to try and grow nutrient and calorie-rich foods using the Druids nature magic. The problem with that plan was that the spices and limited varieties of vegetables the Colonel had gifted me, were either unfit for the task or incredibly work-intensive on the Druids side. Growing a single bulb of garlic seemed to be reasonably easy, growing one hundred simultaneously was much less so.

However, soldiers' rations could be a gamechanger. From my limited understanding, a soldier’s rations were meant to be packed full of calories, salt and necessary vitamins to ward off basic diseases and keep the soldier in fighting shape.

“Your rations, what’s in them?” I asked somewhat excitedly.

The Lieutenant pulled a waxed linen parcel from one of her belt pouches and offered it to me, “Dried fruits, nuts, berries, that sort of thing,” she explained, a hint of a smile on her lips suggesting she had guessed my reason for asking.

Opening the waxed linen packet, I nearly cried in relief as I recognised the familiar shapes, colours and smells inside. The fact that whoever made these rations didn’t remove any of the pits or seeds was almost more than I could take and I found myself leaning on Lash for support. Assuming I was right about how the Druid’s magic worked, we had a very real shot at turning Sanctuary’s dire food situation right around!

*****

Cpt. Kristof watched the Ogre Chieftain and his Mate excitedly head off towards what he assumed was the food production area of the Settlement. Even though the Colonel’s reports had expressed that the Ogre had a fondness for new plants, Kristof made a mental note to amend it to include both savoury and sweet preserves as well.

He wasn’t an idiot, Cpt. Kristof understood that whatever magical means the monsters of the Settlement had at their disposal were capable of encouraging rapid plant growth. So it made sense for the Ogre Chieftain to be excited about the prospect of adding variety to their diet while also lessening the need to hunt wild monsters to sustain themselves. If he was in the Ogre’s place, Cpt. Kristof would likely be just as excited too.

“Do we have any new orders from command?” Cpt. Kristof asked, assuming that Lt. Rooke had already apprised the Colonel of recent developments.

Lt. Rooke nodded, “The priority has been upgraded to Absolute,” she stated somewhat excitedly.

“Absolute...” Cpt. Kristof needed a moment to process it. Absolute priority was almost universally reserved for protection and training details for members of the royal family...or assassinating rival heads of state...

“You think he isn't worth the priority level?” Lt. Rooke asked somewhat jokingly.

Cpt. Kristof shook his head, “No. If what you saw is true, and combined with what we already learned, Absolute might be insufficient...” He didn’t say it lightly. Absolute priority meant that every soldier was expected to die if necessary to accomplish the objective, and that any number of civilian casualties would be considered acceptable collateral damage. Rules of engagement could be freely broken, treaties violated, the objective was, literally, Absolute.

“How long do you think we have?” Cpt. Kristof asked dourly, his thoughts drifting to those of his family home.

Lt. Rooke didn’t answer right away, instead intensely watching the Ogre conversing with his mate in the distance. A qualified master of lip reading, and afforded the sight of a bird of prey from one of her Class Abilities, she was no doubt gathering additional intel. “Maybe a year...” Lt. Rooke replied quietly, “Less if something isn’t done about the ‘Bloody Baron’.”

Cpt. Kristof nodded. It was more or less what he had expected. His thoughts lingered on home again, of his wife and their two sons and daughter... “Do you think the Ogre-”

“-Tim!” Lt. Rooke corrected sharply without looking away from her target, “He hates that word.”

Cpt. Kristof nodded and bit the inside of his cheek to serve as a reminder. He had read the reports and knew to trust Lt. Rooke’s instincts. “Right. Do you think Tim would take in human settlers?” Cpt. Kristof asked warily, knowing that the question could be misunderstood as borderline treasonous.

Lt. Rooke was quiet for a while, then blinked and sighed as she turned her attention to him instead. “He would, and already has, although perhaps not in name. The innkeeper and his family, remember? Not to mention the humans from the expeditionary force we helped rescue. That’s almost guaranteed to be why the Grand Marshal upped the priority, and he wouldn’t do anything without his Majesty knowing about it.” She let out a long breath, shook her head and wistfully regarded the sky, “Absolute priority...fuck me...”

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