With the clattering of carriage wheels on pavement coming to a halt, a pair of caramel colored horses let out satisfied whinnies. The thin and graying coachman started to get down from his seat, but his passenger was not patient enough to wait for him. Echoes bounced off the nearby manors: the result of the carriage door being thrown open with considerable force. Fortunately for the coachman, the paint on the carriage didn't seem to be damaged from the impact.

He recovered from his flustered state and called out to the young lady who was quickly strutting away.

“Y-young miss! The payment?”

The woman who looked to have just reached adulthood looked over her shoulder, displaying her wide blue eyes and soft pink lips. She wore an expression of surprise.

Didn't you look around, old man?

“The servants will be out to take care of that,” she said simply. Her chin-length, white blonde hair bobbed as she faced back toward the front. The heels of her boots made crisp sounds on contact with the stone walkway. Soon enough, a servant did come to pay the flustered coachman.

“Mother! Sisters! Brother! Your precious Claudia is home!”

The cheerful, bell-like voice rang out, and a beautiful older woman, wearing her golden hair in a high ponytail, held in place by a thick braid, came to meet its source.

“Claudia, dear, I know you had a long journey, but it’s rude to yell in the house.”

“Mother!”

Claudia ran to the Marquise and they embraced each other in a hug. The two women wore similar styles: dresses with long slits down the sides of the legs, for better mobility; pants beneath those, for modesty; and swords at their hips, for various reasons.

Reuniting with her daughter brought a smile to Renée’s face, but she spoke up anyway.

“I mentioned in my letter that it would be quite empty when you returned here. Silvia is preparing for her wedding ceremony, and Anise got an apprenticeship to a prestigious knight order. Marilyn said she might finish her expedition and return here before you go back, but it may be just the two of us.”

“What about my little brother? Has he come for our duel yet?”

The Marquise’s lips creased into a worried frown. “I haven't heard from him yet. Hopefully, he’s doing his best to train himself.”

Claudia looked at her mother’s face and held her fist up proudly. “Even if he trains until his hands bleed in that style that no Sartiella knight could admire, there’s no way he’ll be able to defeat me!” The girl’s shoulders drooped. “That said, mother, weren't the conditions too harsh? Even I don't think Rudan should go back to that worthless academy.”

Renée smiled weakly. “Claudia, you know how necessary it is for knights and nobles to build good relationships with each other.”

“But Rudan isn't going to become the head of this family! Marylin is! If I just use my own connections to get him into a knight order, there would be no problems! The experienced nobles may be fine, but those immature ones that only pull up whatever piece of scripture is convenient for them--when they don't have any idea what they're talking about!--aren't worth the rust they would leave on my blade!”

“Claudia, please choose your words with a bit more caution,” Renée chided softly.

“But it’s true!” the girl chopped through the air with her arm. Though her expression was furious, her eyes were moist. “Why do they have to make my sweet little brother feel like he’ll curse his family if he wears nice dresses and grows his hair long?! Would it kill them to tell him he looks cute instead?! Lord Ashtante never cursed us in all this time, so why do they think they have the right to judge us?!”

“Claudia,” The Marquise tried to cut the young woman off, but ended up simply embracing her instead. The girl’s hands gathered up the fabric of her mother’s dress and held it tightly, squeezing her eyes shut.

“We never made him do anything he didn't want to do,” she whimpered. “Mother, I don't want to fight him like this.”

Renée comforted the girl until she stopped crying, then had the servants bring some tea. They both sat quietly on opposite sofas, sipping tea until they had calmed down.

“I'm sorry, mother. It’s been too long since I was home. I started feeling nostalgic about too many things.”

“No, I understand that I'm asking something difficult of you.”

Renée looked at Claudia, remembering how she had had to endure two more years at the academy that had split apart their family, while taking care not to sour relations with the other nobles as much as possible. And because some of the culprits had been big names, she couldn't even defend her family’s actions without making the situation worse.

The will of the Gods comes down so seldom, nobody cares until it gains tangible form. That being the case, once enough loud voices say Sartiella is a house of blasphemers, it becomes true as far as the lay people care.

Despite Ashtante showing no signs of considering them to have sinned, the people decided otherwise. How foolish.

“The idea you had before, Claudia,” Renée started slowly, “it was quite good.”

“Mother?”

“Social connections can still be built if he joins a knight order, and he’s five years behind in his academy lessons. It seems a bit late to send him there now.”

Without being able to contain herself, Claudia jumped to her feet, staring at the Marquise with wide eyes.

“After you duel your brother and win, we will tell him this new plan.”

Holding both fists in front of her chest and trembling slightly, Claudia raised her arms in a victory pose and shouted, “Alright!” She looked at her mother with sparkling eyes. “First thing tomorrow, I will track him down in the city and drag him here!”

***

While sitting alone in an office-like room without windows, a man with sharp eyes and dark brown hair let out a long sigh. He had a tall and well-muscled frame, but also a handsome face and tidy attire. It was the kind of man who would look just as natural in an office setting as out in the field, with plenty of a leader’s natural charisma.

Of course, thanks to Andorin Kingdom’s caste system, this dark and windowless room was the best this man was able to have. The fact that it was fully equipped on the inside was enough to prove his personal worth; a worth that had been established through meticulous planning and many coldhearted victories.

To think this War Orc village vanished as well.

The five star Ranger, Balk Chevarin, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again.

In addition to the information he had recieved from the Human traitor Elianora, he had sent Rangers to investigate all throughout the Orcs' territory. One of the few Orcish words Humans understood had come up over and over again in the western and southern villages: Orc Lord, along with the Holy Orc chief's name, Vyra. The implications were disasterous.

He could be reasonably sure that Humans were not helping the Monsters avoid being seen. He had stayed in the city and sent out an entirely new group to investigate the War Orc village where the Orc Lord was allegedly staying--not a soul from the first group besides himself even knew that a second expedition had been launched. Whatever movements were happening in the Black Mountain forest were entirely unrelated to the outside world.

Which only makes it more difficult to interpret what this new incarnation of the Orc Lord is trying to do.

According to the various scraps of paper laid out on Balk’s desk, only two other Orc villages had been abandoned--all the others were continuing as usual. So what was the Orc Lord doing? If she wanted to gather a horde, she wouldn't have limited it to three villages.

More pressingly, why did she lead them out of the Western region?

At the location of the abandoned War Orc village that the Human traitor Elianora had marked for him, carriage tracks had been found. No matter how ridiculous it was to think that Orcs had started making use of carriages, Balk forced himself to entertain the idea. However, those tracks lead to the Southern region of the forest, which was home to Monsters much stronger than Orcs.

Normally, one would think that the war-hungry Orc Lord would be waging a battle against the Fomors in the Southern region, but the numbers she had gathered were far too small for that.

He had hoped that foolish girl Runa had been deceived into thinking that the Orc Lord possessed the Holy attribute. If, however, it were true, for what reason would a Holy attribute creature gather a small force and invade Fomor territory? There was only one reason for these strange movements that Balk could imagine, and it caused him to grind his teeth in frustration.

She is likely aiming for their demonic altar.

It wasn't common knowledge in this part of the world, where Fomors were a small concern, but their true nature was demons who had fallen out of favor with the Sin Lord Baythes. The altar they had built in the center of their territory would produce Demonic spirits that would cause irritation to any nearby Holy creatures. The distracted Orc Lord would quickly eliminate that first, and then her attention would shift to something else.

The very fact that she had the presence of mind to infiltrate enemy territory with a small group, and precisely target the most troublesome location, meant that this most recent Orc Lord was a bit clever. Even if her next aim was to take on the Black Mountain and wipe out the Demonic Beasts living there (something the Humans would appreciate her doing), she might first try to gather weapons, supplies, and breeders by attacking human nations.

Worst of all was that Holy spirits would reject fighting against their own kind, rendering many of Humanity’s most capable heroes unable to face this Orc Lord directly. It was well known that even the greatest of armies could be defeated if the enemy’s strongest combatant held more power than their own, so cutting these people out would make one nervous. Arranging appropriate troops in this case would be needlessly more complicated than in the past. Knowing that he would be the one to have to report all of this was what was making Balk sigh.

I will at least wait until the unit returns with information on where the carriage tracks lead to.

***

Shortly after Vyra was found unconscious (and a meeting had been held to determine what would be done about it), Oolga and Rigdam had found themselves sitting on opposite sides of her body, staring awkwardly at each other. Oolga wore her usual plastered smile, while Rigdam wore a stern expression to hide his nervousness.

Finally, when everyone else had been gone for a while, Oolga broke the silence by resting a hand against her cheek. “My, Rigdam. It’s been a while, hasn't it?”

“... So the mother of my daughter is willing to behave like a parent for once,” he responded, without trying to hide the aggression in his tone.

To Rigdam, all Oolga was was the woman who had appeared after he had proven himself the strongest of all the chiefs, dragged him into the woods, beat him until he could no longer resist, and repeatedly harvested his seed until she was satisfied. After that, she simply left him there and vanished on her own. She was a devil and a violator before she was a person.

And she was the worst kind of devil: one with a charming mask, clever schemes, and the ability to see into the hearts of mortals. She even had plenty of bite for her bark.

“It hurts quite a bit when you say it like that. I have been trying in my own way, you know? I've even started to be more honest with her. That’s something that’s difficult for me, you know?”

Rigdam frowned and looked away from the masked monster in front of him. It wasn't healthy to look at disturbing things for too long.

“Are you giving up?” Oolga called over. She smiled when there was no response. “You shouldn't give up like that. You're the better parent, after all.”

Despite himself, Rigdam looked back over, causing Oolga to chuckle.

“What? You look surprised. Orc children typically raise themselves, didn't you know? Since you and your mother came over from a different tribe, were they more meddlesome there? Well, it’s clear that you're able to raise a person in a way that I simply am unable to.” A grin tugged at her thin lips. “But our daughter is the way she is, you know? There are parts of her that aren't parts that “people” have. If it’s those parts, would you still be able to raise them? Can you promise you wouldn't try to smother them instead? Do you think you would see me in those parts and hate her for it?”

Rigdam gritted his teeth. “What kind of point are you trying to make with this?”

“Every Orc Lord until now has died a dog’s death,” Oolga said bluntly. “The two of us should at least be able to agree that we don't want the same fate for our daughter.”

“And you claim to know a way to prevent that,” the large Orc rolled his eyes.

“Like other Orcs, the Orc Lords have always raised themselves. Nobody taught them how to conquer through the wars they loved. Nobody taught them how to protect the people they cared about. This time, let’s work together and raise her to do both.”

Relaxing his folded arms and facing her properly, Rigdam finally spoke in a straightforward tone. “I'm listening.”

“You will raise her to be a person; raise her to protect what she should protect. I will raise her to be an abomination, an aberrant, and a violator, so she can conquer whatever she wants to conquer. With that being the case,”

Rigdam looked on in amazement as Oolga lowered her snout to the ground, until it nearly touched the soil.

“You have my apologies, for breaking your pride and body as I pleased. I did it after receiving guidance from my skill , because I very much wanted this child to be born. I hope we can put this matter behind us.”

Rigdam stared, but the devilish woman didn't raise her head. After some time, he finally spoke. “I would have raised her that way even if you didn't ask me to, but I guess I'll thank you for the apology.”

With that, Oolga raised her head and didn't speak again. Still, the tension that had been between them had changed into something less hostile. The two were able to tolerate each other while they guarded their daughter’s body. Oolga would occasionally feed her the milk her body was still producing, so she wouldn't starve or become dehydrated. When the sun became too harsh, Rigdam would set up a canopy made of pelts to keep her cool. Her sleep was deep, so they didn't worry too much about waking her.

The Goblins, which had trouble keeping still, would occasionally trot around to the east side of the city and report how much the spell had spread. It was one way they tried to predict when the Lord would wake up again. Time steadily passed like this, as each person did the best they could in this tense situation.