After what remained of the Chiefs had discussed how to deal with the current situation, they disbanded, directing their efforts to overseeing the various relief efforts. Because it was a heavily emotion issue, Bazarath himself oversaw the gathering of the dead. There was no choice but to burn them with an army of hungry Orcs approaching. Feeding the enemy, when one of their main motivations was surely food, was utterly unacceptable.

“Gather some torches and kindling,” Bazarath ordered once all the bodies had been put into piles. “Find some logs to lay at the base, if there are any.”

The hooves of a few of the warriors were dragging. They were tired, but more importantly, this was spirit-draining work. Many of the faces stacked up on one another were familiar, even intimately so. Bazarath was the same, and there were good people he knew among the dead. The way they died was unfair and disrespectful to their strong spirits and long hours of training. It wasn’t something easy, lighting those people on fire, so Bazarath had resolved to throw the first torch himself.

If possible, he would see if he could draw forth some words that could light the people’s hearts on fire as well.

However, a rolling, tumbling sound spread across the sky, and the moderate cloud cover became something more substantial.

“Is it that time of the year already?” Bazarath murmured, staring up at the sky.

Soon enough, fat drops of water began to strike upon the soil. A warm and wet smell saturated the air, apparently coming from both the chilly sky and the hot earth at once, mingling in the middle to become the familiar smell of fall rain.

The funeral pyre for the dead would have to be postponed. The sky rained heavily when it decided to rain at all, and soon the logs were soaked. Everyone who could quickly took shelter in the huts that had been repaired. Those who were too slow put their all into repairing additional huts for cover.

The rain will set us back, and the bodies will be too soaked to burn for a full day at least. How troublesome. At least the Orc Lord will have to stay put for a while as well.

***

Guh. It's raining.

After flying in the air for hours, the cooling rain was a bit pleasant, but it didn't make my fur armor any lighter. Come to think of it, I’d never seen it rain here before. I assume it was just raining while I was asleep, like it did where I lived on Earth.

Unfortunately, the rain only got heavier. The drops themselves were thick and heavy, and it came down in sheets. It’s no use, I’m going to land by Durghan’s group.

My descent was a tad faster than I intended, and I got my feet all covered in mud thanks to landing too hard. Whatever, it’s just mud. The stuff doesn’t feel too bad, until it gets all dry and itchy. I shouldn’t have to worry about that while it’s raining like this.

“Brother,” I called out. “Sorry, but I couldn’t stay in the air with the rain like this.” Honestly, it was taking too much effort just to keep my wings from dragging in the mud behind me. I’m sweating all over, not that anyone can tell.

“Well,” he folded his arms, “I don’t blame you. Did you see what the Fomors were up to?”

I held my chin, as if it would help me remember more clearly. “Erm, I think they just ran to get out of the rain? They put everything else on hold, from what I could see.”

Brother looked to be running some ideas through his head, so I kept quiet. I’m not in charge of this expedition. Leave it to the others, I kept reminding myself.

But, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t care about the rain and just charge in anyway. For the others though, especially the weaker troops, that’s probably too dangerous. I wonder how well pig feet can find their footing in mud? Wouldn’t it mean death if you slipped and fell? The enemy could just stab you right like that.

Why would I want to fight anyway? My instincts are telling me to, that’s why. They say good things will happen if I run off and fight now. And that’s exactly why I’m not in charge.

“We’ll keep with the original plan,” Varoon finally said, and I blinked twice, staring blankly.

“You mean, we’ll go now? In this rain?” What was the point in removing me from command if you’re just going to make the same stupid decisions I would?! “Isn’t that dangerous?” I found myself looking to the others for support.

“It isn’t as dangerous for us as it is for them,” Momma smiled serenely and chuckled. “I’ll be at a slight disadvantage, but I brought my axe, so it’s no problem.”

I’m sure my face was begging desperately for a more detailed explanation. Durghan spoke up with his own thoughts, “Fomors are much bigger and heavier than us, and they have thick fur. Fighting in the mud and rain is much more difficult for them than for us.”

“For that exact reason,” Varoon interjected, “they’ve instinctively holed up under cover, and they’ll probably assume us to do the same. This is exactly the type of unguarded moment we were looking for.”

“So the plan hasn’t changed,” I stared in bewilderment.

Brother nodded, “It hasn’t.”

“I,” my feathers ruffled, “I have to go back up there?”

“Please do.”

I wanna cry!

“Ah, actually, there is something you could do. Just before we’re in range, please use one more area attack to thin their numbers a bit more. It doesn’t have to be nearly as big as the last one. Maybe use like you did with the villages?”

You, why did you have to phrase it that way? I got my hopes up for a second!

This sucks, but I’m an Orc of my word. “Alright, I’ll do it. Can I have about five minutes to rest first?”

He nodded, “That’s fine. We’ll wait for the scout to come back before we head out anyway. He should only be another minute or so.”

Ah, five minutes. had started to work its magic, but my stomach was a little empty and it was running on fumes. To fuel the skill a little more, I crammed some random leaves and branches into my mouth. They’re probably not poisonous… and I have anyway, so it should be fine.

Come to think of it, there’s something else I’ve never really mentioned before, but I probably should have. I don’t know if an Orc’s taste buds are weird, or if it’s an effect of , but I’ve never eaten anything that tasted bad… except for those frogs, but they were poisonous. So, yup, besides poisonous things, everything tastes good to me. There’s only good food and even better food to choose from, so I don’t have that problem of Human reincarnators where the subpar cuisine makes them miss Earth food and try to redevelop it. Not that I could ever reinvent those foods in the first place. My cooking skill was permanently stuck at level one back home. A fried egg was about the limit of my ability, and no matter what precautions I took, part of the egg would get stuck and ruin the non-stick pans, so I was basically banned from cooking to protect the cookware.

Since coming here, I haven’t had the chance to ruin any dishes. Cooking is the women’s work, after all.

What? I’m a woman too? No, I think you’re mistaken. My girl power measures at zero no matter how many times I check…

Anyway, the scout returned, and everybody got back into formation and started their march.

“Sister,” Varoon called out, in a slightly hurried voice, “That female Small Baphomet with the power to teleport, she came over a little while ago. We put her body in one of the carts to bring back. Is that fine?”

I was a little startled when he said that. Something like that happened? Maybe I should have looked over in this direction every now and then. I’m glad they were able to handle it on their own. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’d like to try something with it after this is over, so don’t go eating it in the meantime.”

I saw Irsha give Fiara a friendly nudge a little ways off. I wonder if Fiara suggested they keep the body for me. Did I tell her about my plan to experiment with reviving the long dead with my Law? Well, I’ll thank her for it later, since they’re marching off already.

had repaired the various muscles I use to fly, so I had no more excuse to be standing with my feet in the mud. With a begrudging groan, I leapt and took off. I’d been working really hard on my leg muscles in my training lately just so I could get enough air to do that. It’s definitely worth it. Looks so much cooler than running like a duck.

***

Varoon marched at the front of the troops. The layers of tree needles buried in the dirt made the mud a little more manageable, though he did need to force his feet free every now and then.

I can’t really call this rain lucky. It’s nearly fall, so it was bound to start up soon, but I’m glad that it happened to rain today.

They marched until they were just outside the closest Fomor camp. Luckily, a mutiny had completely emptied one of them. If they attacked the closest camp next to it, the reinforcements from one side would take too long to show up, and it would be easier to drive the direction of the battle.

But seriously. Why is that sister of mine our leader? Is there anything besides power to qualify her?

He thought back on the soaking wet scout who had come running back, quickly informing them how the Fomors had hidden away from the rain and how one camp had been devoured by another.

“Oh yeah, something like that did happen,” Vyra had muttered.

What the hell? How do you forget to mention something like that? Neither did she mention anything about the female Small Baphomet before he brought it up, even though he gave her plenty of time. Did she really fail to notice their battle, even with three kinds of spells flying around? Honestly, this was why she wasn’t in charge of this battle. With Vyra’s memory and attention span, she’d probably start making decisions based off her instincts or something crazy like that.

Then, just on time, plenty of pained bleets rang out and mud spikes could be seen poking through nearly every hut.

Ironically, our leader is pretty good at following orders, Varoon teased gratefully, making a motion with his arms for the troops to hurry forward. Living Fomors, who weren’t pinned in place by firmed mud, had already started to evacuate their huts, and the Orcs came at them ruthlessly. The Fomors’ movements were slowed by their heavy, wet fur, and several Orcs teamed up on each of them at once, doing their best to force their huge adversaries back. Already, a few of them had had their hooves slip on the mud and fell over backwards, only to be brutally assaulted from above by crowds of Orcs.

The Fomors weren’t helpless. Some of them were still able to fight well even in the heavy rain. Others fought with a terrifying abandon, taking great damage, but dealing even greater damage to the weaker Orcs.

Reinforcements from other camps were coming quickly. Varoon could already see the nearest ones just a few breaths away. Injuries on both sides were racking up quickly, but only two Orcs had fallen so far, and no War Orcs had died.

If everything went according to plan, soon, the strong would settle into battle against the strong, and the peons would continue fighting each other. Then, his sister would determine which enemy was the strongest from above, swoop down and destroy him, then move on to the next one, and the next, and each of their strongest fighters who were relieved of duty would stampede among the peons before the lesser Orcs took on too many casualties.

If it went according to plan, that was.