They all stared at each other for a few seconds, unsure what part of the conversation the others weren’t understanding.
Then a large Orc with a club in his hand pointed at Ophelia.
“Hey thick, sexy and furry. How about you come over here and show me if you would make a good wife?” He shouted.
“If you wanted a strong woman to spank you like your mother should have, you just had to ask.” She shouted back.
Karl laughed, but the Satyr looked confused.
Perhaps he just wasn’t familiar with crude humour.
Ophelia sized up the Orc, and then nodded for Karl to buff her up. They were both Commanders, but she wasn’t taking any risks of ending up as some random Orc’s wife.
Haste, Terrorize, Brutality and Trollish Regeneration stacked with her own Berserk Terror skill, and she transformed into a four-metre tall Dire Bear before charging at the Orc.
“Goddess, she is massive. What is she doing? I thought your team was sitting the battle out?” The Satyr asked, panicked.
“Weren’t you listening? The Orc challenged her to a bridal duel, and she went to beat some sense into him.”
“How am I supposed to know that when they’re shouting in Orcish?”
The Satyr was waving his hands in frustration as he screamed at them. Karl looked back at the others, but the ladies just shrugged. They had only heard one language, the Common Language.
But Thor thought the whole situation was hilarious.
[What if the only reason we get along with them so well is because we’re the only people who speak Orcish, other than the Orcs?] He chortled, laughing out loud along with his thoughts.
Ophelia and the Orc were going at it in a brutal battle that looked like they had a vendetta against each other, but Karl could see that they were both pulling their strikes so that they wouldn’t seriously injure their opponent.
It wasn’t a war, or a duel to the death. It was more like Orcish flirting, and while Ophelia was playing along, it was clear that the suitor was about to be rejected, as her last strike had nearly put him on his back.
Once he was on the ground, he was done for. In Dire Bear form, she was much larger than he was, and she could just pin him to the ground with one massive paw.
They all watched for a few more minutes until Ophelia got the final blow and got the Orc in the back, pounding him face down into the dirt.
A few other Orcs whooped in celebration nearby, laughing at his misfortune as Ophelia rubbed him in the dirt for a few seconds before backing away and transforming back into her Werebear form.
The Orc got to his knees and made a show of bowing before Ophelia before standing up to look for another challenger to improve his combat skills.
The Satyr snapped his fingers. “Wait, if you can speak Orcish, can you end this insanity? Ask them for a parlay or something?”
“At the start, maybe. But it’s a bit late for that now. There are a lot of dead on both sides already. Once there are deaths, it’s generally too late for talking.” Karl sighed.
If he had known that for some reason he could understand the Orcs when nobody else could, he would have insisted from the start.
“I need to tell my leadership. I will be back.” The Satyr informed them, before turning to run off.
“Do you think that it’s the system translating? The Orcish tribes seem to have more memories of the past than others, so maybe they still have an affinity with the System?” Dana whispered, just loud enough for the others to hear.
Tessa nodded. “That’s as good of a guess as any other reason. We all understood them just fine, but we’ve all got active systems, while the Monsters here didn’t need one to be strong.”
Lotus looked excited as she realized something. “Orcs have their own Gods, but they include the World Dragon in their pantheon. I think Tessa might be right. They still have some lingering affinity with the System. In fact, they might even have a limited version of the System still active, like the other Elites do.
But they’re Orcs, and they all pick the warrior class, other than a few Shamans. They are different from other species, but that makes me wonder what they were like in the past. You met them during that time Bishop Misty sent you to, right?”
Karl nodded. “They were strangely civilized. They were smart, and spoke with a very refined accent. There is still some of that, like the fancy pants that the messenger they sent us was wearing.
It’s all threadbare and faded, but they remember. They’re just not willing to go to other species to get assistance to bring them back to the status they lost.”
They were interrupted by the Satyr running back with a Royal Rank soldier in an ornate uniform. Karl couldn’t pick out what sort of species it came from, but it had a bird’s head and wings, as well as arms with taloned fingers and triple jointed legs.
“Joffrey says that you know something about Orc culture and how to end this fight without it being a massacre.” The officer demanded.
“Sure, just back away. Don’t turn your back and run like cowards, they don’t respect that. But stop fighting and just back away. They’ll figure out what you’re after in a few minutes.
But if you just spoke Orc, it would be a lot easier.” Karl agreed.
“Can you assist us? I see that your Werebear friend managed to have a solo battle with one of them.”
Karl rolled his eyes and hopped down from the wagon.
“Make sure that your side doesn’t attack me. I will explain the situation.”
The officer looked overjoyed, Karl guessed. It was nearly vibrating with excitement, but the bird head didn’t show any emotions that Karl understood.
The officer called for a guard to protect them, and Karl sighed.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“Guarding you so you can make it to the leaders?”
Karl laughed and patted him on the shoulder.
“You really don’t know anything about the Orcs at all, do you?”
Karl stomped toward where the leaders were fighting, while the soldiers did their best to keep up.
A large, Royal Rank Orc blocked his way and Karl smiled at her. “I need to talk to the boss. These guys are too stupid to understand Orcish or even what a duel is.”
The woman laughed, and motioned for him to follow her.
That did not set the officers’ nerves at ease. Not even a little.
The three leaders and the boss were all bleeding heavily when Karl stepped in between them with a hand out toward both sides, signalling for them to pause their fight.
“Chieftain, these idiots asked me to translate because they don’t speak Orcish. They want to withdraw their force, but don’t understand courtesy.” Karl explained.
“That part was obvious already. Why don’t they just do it?” The Chieftain replied while glaring at the three Monarch Rank unit leaders.
“Their custom is to just turn and run away.”
The Orc paused for a second, and then started to laugh as he realized what Karl was trying to say.
[Oi, everyone back off and let the soldiers run away.] The Chieftain yelled.
Over the next few seconds, the battle calmed, and Karl sighed in relief.
“I have a welcoming gift for you once you’re done with these soldiers, as well as some food to trade from the Dragon Clerics. Let me talk to the soldiers for a bit and I will explain what they want.” Karl informed the massive Orc.
“No need to translate, I speak their language.” The Chieftain shrugged.
The Orcs might have a point about the soldiers of the Newbon Empire being idiots. The Chieftain spoke their language, and the Commanders hadn’t even tried to keep this from turning into a huge mess. It might have been a political thing, but Karl got the impression that the soldiers thought there was no other way to deal with Orc Clans.
Karl turned to the Unit Leaders.
“The Orcs have disengaged after I told them that you weren’t intending to completely wipe them out.” Karl informed them.
“Why do I get the feeling that you weren’t that civil about it? I might not speak Orc, but I am fairly certain that I was just insulted to my face.” One of the men, a tall and slender Demon with violet skin, insisted.
[Not as dumb as he looks.] The Chieftain laughed.
“Dammit, he did it again, didn’t he? That bastard speaks our language!”
