I spent the rest of the night hunting and filling up my stash. I did not need much, the hawk’s body alone would feed me for two nights probably, but I wanted to have some extra food saved up in case I had to use lots of magic or was otherwise unable to hunt.

As day came about I took off to spy on the ork town. The two rivers met at the southern end, one of them going around, the other straight through. Walls surrounded the buildings. They were about five metres tall and maybe two thick. Gates sat at three positions, pointing towards the valleys. Most of the town was built in the same single floor style as the villages. Only near the eastern wall, where no gate was, ramshackle huts and makeshift structures replaced them. The outer sides of the walls were inscribed with runic symbols and symmetric patterns reminding me of Celtic patterns. My point of interest was almost directly in the middle of town. The large buildings around the plaza were bustling with activity even though it was still early in the day. Orks went in and out of buildings or stood in pairs and groups, chatting.

There were a few more open spaces in town looking like marketplaces. Bartering chatter and marketing calls sounded out. I even spotted the occasional goblin, though they mostly kept to their area. The run-down huts to the east. I was a little confused. From Roguk’s tale, it had sounded as if they were slaves, but they seemed to be free, if poor. The orks also acted rather human-like. More than I had expected with all the fantasy stories I knew about. I was up quite high so I could not make out many detailed words, but it was clear to me they spoke their own language. The goblin language was nowhere to be heard, maybe it was actually some kind of secret code?

Then I saw the first sign of suppression. An ork walking down the street grabbed a nearby goblin and put him in a bag. No amount of struggling would help the little guy and he was carried off into a nearby building. I was interested in what exactly was going on there but I did not want to get too close. Maybe one of the orks would spot me and decide they would rather have owl than goblin today. And I had no idea what kind of magic they had at their disposal.

So I flew towards the centre and started circling over the house with the atrium. Nothing was going on. It was probably too early in the day. I wanted to see when something happened but I also had no desire to stay up in the air all day. So I waited for an opportune moment and landed on the roof. I had made sure to take a path away from the plaza and pick a timing with nobody watching the area where I approached from. It was a bit risky but traffic was low in the backstreets. Not like the place earlier where I only had the approach from the main street.

It took until after noon for something to happen in the courtyard. I nearly fell over from the sudden sound of a door being slammed open and a deep voice grumbling along. Carefully, I edged forward to get a better look. A diminutive ork stood in front of an open door with a large tome in his hand. He wore purple and white robes made of simple looking cloth but to my senses, they appeared magically charged. Golden embroidery ran along the hem, well-used leather boots peeking out from underneath. On his head sat gold-rimmed goggles with purple lenses.

The door stood open and as the ork stepped forward to inspect the central pillars small figures filed into the atrium. They were simple humanoid shapes made of wood, stone, wax and even one from iron. Or maybe another silvery metal. Golems. All of them were a little shorter than me, maybe forty centimetres tall and carried objects in their hands. There was a feather, some white crystals without any mana in them, possibly quartz, some yellow crystals with mana in them, which I identified as aer mana and for some reason a potato. Other golems carried jars filled with magical power. The mana seemed to have taken some kind of liquid form in them. The jars were placed in a symmetrical fashion between the outer pedestals, the items on the pedestals. The very centre pedestal was the only one no golem approached. Instead, the ork mage, or thaumaturge as Roguk had called it, pulled out a much too round orb from his robes and put it down carefully. I was especially surprised when I noticed it floating a few centimetres above the pedestal.

Soon after the golems had retreated into the house. The ork went around to check on the jars and pedestals and once satisfied turned to the centre. He took out a short wand from his robes and swung it in the direction of the floating cube above the centre. I noticed a small amount of mana flow from wand to cube and once it reached the cube started to spin around itself. While it slowly picked up speed, the jars started to give off their mana which floated into the orb. Mana coalesced into a cyclone of colours around it and, once all of the jars emptied out, was sucked in with a popping sound. At the same time, the objects on the surrounding pedestals started floating on their own. Golden, white and yellow sparkles appeared on them and the items became dust that shot into the central orb. With a small sparkling explosion, the orb fell down on the pedestal. The ork jumped forward to pick it up and carefully cradled it in his hands. Then he fastened it onto the tip of his wand and gleefully waved it around.

After a short celebration, the mage took a stance with his wand pointed at the wall below me. I noticed a small amount of mana flow through the wand into the orb and after just a moment a ball of lightning shot forward and impacted the wall with a bang. He had just made a weapon. A ranged weapon. And I was sitting right where he was looking at, as he marvelled at his success. The ork’s mouth stood open, his eyes wide behind his goggles. I looked at him. He looked at me. It was time to leave.

Before I could send out an explosion of shadows to hide my ascent, a suddenly fog spread all around. As if half the air had suddenly turned into water, everything had turned an impenetrable white. I could barely make out the ork spinning around, eyeing his walls. This was the perfect opportunity to escape. A few beats of my wings and I would be gone. Only, I was not sure what this fog was and where it came from. It had to be magical but it felt very much like normal fog. I was also worried about the water seeping into my wings and making me unable to fly. Though in retrospect that should have made me leave earlier. I did not leave. I stayed and watched the ork. He seemed on guard but not panicked. He even eyed me every once in a while but apparently, his concerns were something else.

After a few minutes of just sitting there and watching him, something changed. I felt a presence close in. Something heavily loaded with mana. It came from the direction of the plaza, the ork right between it and myself. And it moved towards us. Or towards him? A few tense moments passed, the ork had apparently not noticed the approach before finally, I spotted it. A grey shape of armour floated into my view across the courtyard. It had legs and arms and a head, just like a person, but where there was no armour to cover its body I only made out more darkness. Shadows, black and purple, flowing like smoke. It felt very similar to my [Owl’s Shadow], just combined with the eldritch mana I had absorbed a few nights ago. The armour was made of a near-black metal and covered in golden runes.

Where this thing had come from, I had no clue. But it seemed to hold little interest in me and so I kept watching it slowly float forwards. As it reached the edge of the roof, the ork spotted it as well. His posture changed to a combat stance and just a moment later three orbs of lightning were already flying upwards. The first was completely stopped by a golden sheen appearing in the air around the armour. The second broke through the magical shield and exploded right afterwards. The third hit the armour square in the chest. Lightning arced all over its form, but it showed no reaction. Instead, it slowly floated downwards and extended an arm. From its hand, a ball of rainbow energy shot downwards, right at the ork. He jumped to the side and half rolled, barely dodging the explosion.

Lying on his back, he extended the wand forwards again and shot another set of lightning orbs. Again, a golden glow intercepted. This time, the first orb was enough to get through. The second and third both impacted the armour straight on. Blue and violet flashes lit up the fog. It was time for me to leave. But I wanted to watch. And so I stayed. The armour once again looked to be impervious to the ork’s attacks. It shot another flickering ball at its adversary. This time the ork was slow to dodge and the edge of the explosion clipped his left side. A scream of pain and anger sounded out, muffled by the fog.

Suddenly there was movement coming from the door leading into the courtyard. Three small shapes walked out, armed with what looked like miniature crossbows. They aimed at the armour and fired. Then, they immediately reloaded their weapons without looking for any cover. Before they could loose a second shot, a ball of energy impacted at their feet and a metallic bang and cracks sounded out through the fog. While the golems had bought time, the ork had pulled out what looked like a black ball with a silvery flame burning around it. The flame weirdly enough did not burn his hand. The ork lugged the ball at his enemy and on contact, a large explosion sounded out. Shards of metal flew everywhere and embedded themselves in the walls and ground. I took cover behind the roof.

As sudden as the fog had appeared it was gone again. Just like it had never been there. I heard the ork groaning down in the courtyard and slowly edged forward. The whole place was a mess. Pedestals had fallen over or were shattered into pieces. The ground and walls were covered in holes. No trace of the armour was left, I deduced it had disappeared just like the fog. The ork sat leaning on one of the central pillars of the structure that was surprisingly still intact. He struggled with his robes, trying to get out of them. Maybe he wanted to treat his wounds. He shouted something in his language and a voice replied from inside the house.

Moments later a goblin appeared in the doorway. An underfed goblin wearing nothing but a loincloth and with scars all over his lower arms. The ork impatiently bellowed at his underling, he wanted help. He needed help. The goblin hesitated. A wave with the wand got him to finally move. Once the goblin had helped the ork out of his clothes and wrapped them around his wounds he was rewarded with a slap from the ork’s healthy hand and something that sounded explicit without even knowing the language. The goblin was knocked down and whimpered back into the house, muttering some kind of apology. This was the perfect target. A powerful mage, a bad person and already injured.

When the goblin returned with some kind of ointment for his abuser, he found a body lying in a pool of blood with its neck opened up.