“So you’re going back to the city of Clifnal? That’s no trouble, we were headed there anyhow.” Karl shrugged.
“No, the fortress City of Bethoke. You will be brought to the Overlord’s Temple for questioning on suspicion of being a spy.”
“Whatever, as long as they’re interested in buying tools, it’s fine by me. You don’t mind if we make a few pit stops at the farms along the way, do you?” Karl asked.
“What part of this are you not getting?” The demon asked.
“The part where you think you’re in charge here. If it wasn’t likely to offend the delicate sensibilities of the War Cleric, we would be having some harsh words about your assumption that you can just throw around accusations and detain merchants.
I would think that you would be a bit more understanding when you’re asking for a favour. There are countless nomadic tribes out here, after all, and it would be a shame if we walked away the next time you met one.”
Karl could feel the glares that he was getting, both from in front and behind. However, after a few seconds, the Demon relented.
“Alright, you have a point. Until we can prove that you’re the spies from the Golden Dragon Nation, we will ask that you accompany us as honoured guests.”
“That’s much better. Lead the way. But I was serious about stopping at the farms. They’re the ones most likely to need the tools, and my wagon is nearly full.”
The Demon sighed and motioned for his unit of a hundred soldiers, mostly at the Ascended and Commander Rank, to encircle the wagon.
They had just started to move when something in the Demon’s pocket began to glow.
The unit leader took out a flat stone object with runes all over one side, then stared at the other.
“It looks like our guest is a prophetic one. There is a nomadic Orc Tribe coming our way. We won’t be able to avoid them with the slow-moving Wagon, so everyone should prepare for a fight.”
Karl cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, we’ve got Dragon Clerics with us. Do you mind if we trade some food to the Orcs before things get messy?”
“I swear to the Vampire Gods, you are the most annoying Troll that I have ever met.”
Ophelia poked Karl in the back. “If you’re trying to get him to kill us before we make it to the city, you’re on the right path. But that’s not the greatest idea I’ve heard to convince people that we’re not spies.”
A few of the nearby soldiers chuckled, while Karl smiled at her. “They’ll get used to my loveable personality soon enough. Besides, if the lovely ladies of the church have created some food supplies, the Orcs will be happy to see them.”
From high overhead, Hawk gave them an update.
[There are a lot of Orcs, and they’ve already got weapons out. I don’t think that they’re going to be willing to negotiate.]
That could be bad news, but the soldiers were surrounding their wagon, so it wasn’t like he could drop back and stay out of the mess. All that Karl could do was wait to see how things turned out.
Once they were a hundred metres apart, the Orcs began shouting a war chant, a rhythmic battle cry in time with their advance.
The Demon at the head of the patrol reached into his coat and set off a marker flare of some sort that sent bright-green smoke billowing into the sky.
“We will need your people to stay back. Not that we don’t trust your capabilities, but it’s safer not to mix our force.” One of the soldiers informed Karl as he prepared to join the fight.
“No problem. We will wait right here.”
With the two groups moving towards each other, that put Thor and the wagon well out of the way of the hostilities. As long as they weren’t dragged into the fight by a retreat by the soldiers, there shouldn’t be any issues.
But as soon as Karl decided that this was a great opportunity to simply leave while the Orcs butchered the patrol, more soldiers started to appear out of portals all around the smoking beacon.
Now, it wasn’t the soldiers who were outnumbered, but the Orcs. The two sides’ current numbers were close, but it was unlikely that either side would fight to the bitter end out here in the middle of nowhere, for no good reason.
The Orcs just wanted a good fight, and they would calm down once they had one, Karl assumed. That was how they had been every other time that he had met them.
Karl dug through the items that the Elves had loaded into his inventory and brought out a stack of paper and a fountain pen that he loaded with a bit of Hill Giant blood from Thor’s space.
“What are you doing?” Ophelia asked as he began to write with a smile on his face.
“I want to make a spell book for Crushing Blows. None of you can use it, but the leader of the Orcish force can. He’s an unarmed combat specialist, you see. Crushing Blows adds damage to blunt impacts based on Rank.
Once this fight is over, we can trade them some food as a show of goodwill from the church, and I will give him the book as a first meeting gift.”
“That assumes that he’s going to be alive at the end of the fight.” Dana reminded him.
The massive Monarch Rank Orc sent a soldier flying with a single blow from his fist, which was easily larger than the soldier’s head.
“I think that he will do alright. They don’t have a duel challenger here to fight him, and I’m not about to volunteer to get beat up for sport.”
One of the reinforcement groups sent a runner over to see what Karl was doing, a nervous looking Satyr that was even shorter than Lotus, and barely Ascended Rank, by Karl’s estimation.
“You are not going to join?” He asked as soon as he arrived.
“The Clan looks like they’re doing alright. I am just a merchant who sells wares through the nomadic areas and a few of the cities. The first group of soldiers asked me to stay out of the fight, as they didn’t trust my loyalty was to them and not to the Nomads.” Karl explained.
The Satyr nodded. “Wait here. The leader will want to talk to you soon.”
Karl laughed. “The other one said the same thing. Don’t worry, I’m not going to run away while you’re in the middle of a battle. Not that I would make it far with a loaded wagon.”
The Satyr hesitated to return to his leader, and Karl saw that all of the unit leaders were fighting the Orc Clan leader at the same time.
“They never learn, do they?” He asked.
“What do you mean?” The Satyr asked.
“Well, it’s insulting to gang up on a Clan Leader, isn’t it? If you want to fight him, you should challenge him to a proper duel. Four on one is just rude, and makes them look weak and cowardly.”
The Satyr looked confused. “You understand the way of the Orcs?”
Now everyone was confused. Even Ophelia was baffled about what sort of policy they had regarding the Orcs.
“Did you never consider talking to them? Just ask them for a trade or a challenge. It’s not that hard. We figured it out the first time that we met them.” Ophelia insisted.
The Satyr was thoroughly baffled.
“You speak Orcish?”
