The group continued south until the sun reached its peak, pausing only briefly along the dusty trail.
At last, Knez was staring at his destination, the fortified port city of Skarven, Constantine. The scale of the structure and its massive walls mesmerized him. He sat there for a few minutes, breath slowed, as he mentally stripped away the layers—dismantling it subconsciously in an attempt to understand how it was built.
A sharp cough from Borte shattered the trance. Knez blinked, turning to Anna's parents. "I have fulfilled my promise to your daughter. See that she's safe—and that your shaman treats her illness." They nodded, the father's eyes glistening as he reached for the girl. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice cracking. Knez lifted Anna from the saddle and placed her gently in her father's arms. He paused, glancing at the child who stared back with unblinking curiosity. "One more thing. Why wasn't she afraid of me?" The man offered a smile that twisted at the corners, bittersweet as overripe fruit. "Anna doesn't know fear. From the day she was born, we've never seen her flinch—not from storms, not from beasts. It's why she approaches things others flee, like chatting with orcs as if they're old neighbors. But it's landed her in trouble more times than I can count..... though you, sir, could pass for human yourself, the way you carry a conversation."
Knez's mouth quirked into a grim smile at the word 'human'. "Keep her out of trouble, then," he said, bidding them farewell as they galloped away, all three of them on the muddy gigentean, which had seen better days for sure.
Knez lingered, observing the defenses of the fortress and its walls. It was his first glimpse of such a bastion, a marvel of human ingenuity that dwarfed the tribal strongholds he knew. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away and swung toward Borte and Hermeti. "Let's..." The word caught in his throat. Borte couldn't see Hermeti's face because she was supporting him from behind. But Knez saw it clearly: Hermeti's skin pale as ash, his eyes glassy and unseeing. "Let's continue south," he finished, his voice steady despite the knot in his gut. At that same moment, Anna and her parents got to the gate of the castle, and the iron roared open to let them through.
Back at the Tagaro tribe's camp, Jamuka was pacing up and down in front of empty cages that should have been holding his prisoners. "How did this happen?" All the warriors stood a few meters away from him, their faces averted and axes in hand. "What are you all waiting for? Spread out—find them!" But just then, a scout burst into the clearing, his chest heaving. "Chief, twenty tribes' worth of soldiers are marching towards us!" The camp simply erupted into chaos as every orc quickly packed up their remaining belongings, ready to bolt.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Knez guided Borte far from the city's shadow before halting in a secluded thicket. "Let him go, Borte. He's gone." Her eyes widened, but she knew better than to question his sparse words. She leaned closer, her hand pressing against Hermeti's chest—cold, unnaturally still. A faint smile lingered on his lips, dark blood trailing from the corner of his mouth like spilled ink. She shook her head, praying that she would wake up from this dream to the familiar scenes of her cage, but reality wasn't going to bend to the will of a lone orc. Tears streamed down her eyes as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. She understood the peril—they were deep in hostile lands—but grief had caught her off guard.
She slid from the saddle, pulling Hermeti down with her. Cradling him in her arms as she rocked gently, her mouth salty from tears that seemed to have no end. Knez remained mounted, his eyes scanning the horizon for patrols, buying her what moments he could. But the sun dipped lower. He dismounted, snapped a thick branch from a nearby tree, and began digging. Sweat beaded on his brow, soaking him thoroughly as the hole deepened. When it was ready, he approached Borte, gently prying Hermeti from her grasp despite her wordless pleas. He lowered the body into the shallow grave, covering it with soil, then piled stones atop to ward off scavengers. Placing the final rock, he glanced back at Borte's crumpled form. "He died free. Our ancestors would welcome him with open arms, a chief among chiefs." Fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Knez lifted her then, her limbs limp as a rag doll, and hoisted her onto his gigentean. She slumped forward, too drained to sit upright.
He swung up behind her, steadying her with one arm, and released the gray gigentean to roam free. They rode south on the black beast in silence, no words spoken, no noise made except for the occasional ruffling of grasses and the thudding of hooves and perhaps Borte's occasional muffled whimpers. Knez's mind wandered back to the city's grandeur, its walls a puzzle he itched to unravel. But soon, a new sight loomed: kilometers ahead, a force of three thousand soldiers marched westward, led by shiny figures, and above them flew the Skarvan banner, illustrating a white eagle clutching a scroll in one talon and a sword in the other.
From their vantage position, Knez watched the army move as a single entity, boots striking the ground in perfect rhythm, creating a thunderous roar that echoed across the plains. Mounted knights were wrapped head to toe in metal plate, lances upright like forest spires. Their formations held tight, no stragglers, no chaos—a far cry from the wild tribal skirmishes he knew too well. His lips twitched at the sight of their weapons, edges keen enough to slice the air itself. The sheer scale gripped him; he'd never witnessed such a host, and it pulled at his focus like a current.
But a tightened grasp on his arm from Borte grounded him; the potential consequences of what he was doing jabbed at him. To orcs who only knew of tribal wars, this was a sight to behold but not too great to die for. "We have to leave this area. Being this close to such a huge force is risky," Borte rasped. Knez exhaled loudly. "I know," before nudging his gigentean east to make a long detour around the army.
