Chapter 050:

Ivano stared lifelessly at the map splayed out infront of him, only an occasional grunt and cough by the large Deweth Clansmen that surrounded him to break the silence. It was a map of the Qaiviel Kingdom, their combined Orc and Clansmen forces represented by small wooden pieces spread out through the forest. What drove him to such stupor, and brought down the mood of those around him, was how far they had gone. Or rather, not.

The invasion of the Qaiviel Kingdom had been going so well. They had achieved a complete surprise. The wretched Knights of the Plains had not known they were coming. No army had tried to stop them as they descended the mountains in the dead, worthless and empty husk of the Kar Kingdom. At least they had thought so at the beginning. Their first target in Qaiviel had failed to be taken in two days of siege. A small city on the edge of the forest, by all accounts and reports should have been barely a threat, had turned into a small fortress. An advance force had been wiped out and the next wave was being ground down against the enemy. After such a reversal of expectation, the combined Clansmen and Orc attack had come to a grinding halt while they took the bizare change into account. Now they were camped in the forest a days march away.

He leaned forward on his flimsy wooden chair, running his hand over to the small dot where most of their forces were concentrated.

“This city...” he began, his deep growling voice silencing any murmurs. “Maxill, I believe they call it...”

He looked up at his fellow Clansmen. They did not wear their usual mix of chain mail and furs. These lowlands were far too hot for that. Instead, they wore their thick cloth undergarments. Ivano briefly wondered if they realised how naked they were. None were as strong or as mighty as him, but he was not like his fellows back in their cold mountains. He knew that he needed more than just strength and force, he needed brains, intelligence and wit. And these were the best the clans had to offer.

“Why haven't we taken it?” he asked aloud.

The wind slowly picked up as the flap of the tent began to buffet about. One of the Clansmen moved to hold it shut.

“Thank you.” Ivano said, eliciting a look of surprise from their gathered faces. Most Clansmen would not have even acknowledged what he had done. Others would have berated him, physically or verbally, for allowing it in the first place. But Ivano had travelled beyond their snowy and frozen lands, and not for war. The world beyond was very different...Perhaps that was why they always lost?

The clansmen too was stunned but kept his composure as best he could.

“I'm still not hearing any answers.” he growled. The reason why he had gathered them was not to stand in awe of him, like so many of the other Deweth Chiefs wanted of their followers. He wanted them to answer him and not cower in fear of speaking their thoughts.

“There have been many reports of our soldiers dying in the night.” one of his assembled clansmen began to explain. “Qaiviel huntsmen and archers have been roaming the forest, setting up traps and ambushes for our forces. Mainly to the south of our armies.”

“Hmm...” Ivano looked back at the map.

The forest was not particularly large but it was very thick. Dense trees, sometimes barely a human's width between them, and giant boulders and deep ravines had hampered their way. They were rotating forces to push through and find a path, sending those back when they became too weak to rest and regain their strength. All the while, a few lone hunters would pick off at them before disappearing into the darkness of the forest. Only a few arrows and losses but it was working. Morale was low and only falling lower. It still begged the question of how they knew to have those forces roaming through the forest and attack them at first sight. Had someone told them of this attack? That seemed to be the most sensible answer. There was no other reason why there would be Qaiviel soldiers in the forest, ready to attack them without warning.

He glanced at each of the men and women gathered. Nothing was on their faces to hint at treachery, and surely a traitor would have trained themselves to act calm in this situation.

“How many have we lost?” he asked, running his rough and calloused hands through his hair.

A female clansmen, far more slender than most, spoke first. “As of nightfall, eight hundred and thirty.”

“What?” Ivano roared. All present seemed to shrink from his shout. “That's....We only have thirty thousand clansmen....Are you saying we've lost nearly a thousand out of sixty before we've even begun our campaign?”

“Yes.” she replied, she did not shy away. “We have not been able to catch the Qaiviel forces that are harassing our forces and they continue to harass us even now. Someone might have died while we've been talking. They know the forest far better than we do.”

Ivano raised his hand to yell at them again, only stopping at the last moment.

It's not their fault. This is why we are doing so badly, we just rage at the first person that gives us bad news. Too much anger at our own people. And not taking time to find out why it's going wrong.

However, a lifetime of his Clansmen upbringing was very hard to shift in a few winters. Closing his eyes and taking several deep and long breaths calmed the rage within him. He took his seat and looked back at the map.

“Do we still have our siege equipment? They haven't destroyed that, have they?”

She nodded again, though she stopped and frowned halfway through. “The Orcs seem to have taken control of that. We've got most of it back, but...”

His rage began to return.

“What to do you mean, taken control?”

“I am not entirely sure.” she began. “But, the Orcs say that they do not fear the Qaiviel soldiers and knights, and they should lead the attack on the kingdom. We should be in support.”

“Lead the attack?” he scoffed dramatically. “If they're smart, they should always fear the enemy. They've beaten us back every time. If the Orcs any kind of smart they would be wary and afraid of their enemy...Those wretched Orcs been hiding in the center of the war camp so they don't get attacked. Though, now they're on the south and taking most of the brunt from the hunters...Have they taken anything else from us?”

The clansmen shook their heads.

“Do a count on the food stocks...I get the feeling that they may have tried to take control of those too.”

They gave a quick nod and left the tent, leaving Ivano alone. Alone to stare at the map. He stood up and began to trace the predicted path of their invasion with his hand.

“This should have been so easy.” he said aloud, nobody was there to hear. “Head through the forest then obliterate the defences from the rear, and take out the Border Forts. And yet we stumble before the first point...That Duchess was meant to be weak...and now all this?”

He shook his head. “Something's happened....but what?”

He doubted that anyone within the war camp would know. The most recent piece of information about the eastern side of the Qaiviel Kingdom was the map that lay infront of him, and that had arrived just at the beginning of spring.

“And why now?” he mumbled again. "Not ten winters ago."

“Chief Ivano!” the slightly smaller female clansmen barged into the tent again.

Ivano sighed. He guessed what she was about to say.

“Let me guess...”

She paused. “They have tried to take nearly a tenth of our food supplies for themselves. There's been a fight, and some Clansmen and Orcs have been killed in the scuffle.”

A fake laugh left his lips. “They have more than we did to begin with...Even though we did give half of it to them in support for their stupid little inbred war.”

He looked up at the woman. “What is your name again? Forgive me. This whole thing has been very stressful.”

Names were never a good point for him. He always had trouble with remembering them and this was no different.

“Brenna, Chief Ivano.”

“Brenna...I'm not really a Chief, only that I am in charge of this campaign.”

She smiled as warmly as she could, she was not going to admit that it was the truth. Ivano had been awarded the position of an Honorary Chieftain position after beating down all opposition.

But does that make me the best person for this? To command an army of two different races? Because I can hit harder and faster than the others? The Kingdoms and Empires don't work like this. And their armies beat ours in the end...

“Chief?” Brenna asked lightly.

“Ah, yes. Brenna, come with me. We're going to have a talk with the Orcs and find out what they're up to.”

“Yes, Chief.”

He did not bother to correct her as they left the tent and headed to the Orc encampment.

Walking through the Clansmen encampment gave Ivano a real feel for his followers. Each tent was perfectly aligned with the next, giving it an orderly and regimented appearance. Normally this would not be the case of a Deweth Clansmen war host; the tents and camp on most raids would sprawl all over the land, but under his leadership it was kept under control. Mimicking the lowlanders way. Quite a few heads had to be bashed in, and three upstarts had to be put down in order for his words to be followed. But they were followed.

Every clansmen that he passed was doing something productive; sharpening weapons, repairing armour and equipment, preparing food and ensuring that their libido was not going to be an issue in the fights ahead. He could hear the moans and groans of slave men and women tending to their needs. Out the corner of his eye he caught Brenna staring into one of the more open tents.

“Are you interested?” he asked.

She tore her eyes away.

“Yes.” her reply was a refreshing surprise Ivano.

“Well, afterwards you can go and enjoy yourself.”

There was a slight smirk on her face. “I've never done it with one of these slaves before.”

Ivano shrugged. “There's nothing different about them. Other than they don't really have a choice. At least it keeps the soldiers focused.”

“Why not let them onto the thieves? Surely they can fuck the same as anyone else.”

Thieves, in this context, was everyone not from one of the clans. Their elders and stories always told them, over and over again, that they once ruled all that was known as the Shattered Kingdoms. Somehow they had lost it to these thieves. Vile magic, demons and twisted forces of nature were always to blame. To try and retake the land from them was the highest goal of anyone from the clans. Always to take back their lands. Always to fight. To kill....

But there are so many of them, and so few of us. We are so chaotic and they so ordered.

Ivano shook his head and bought himself back to the present.

“I do not approve of raping the innocent...or the guilty.”

“But they are not worthy of the lands they stole.”

Ivano stopped, grabbing her arm hard. It was quite strong and muscular underneath her clothing. She refused to budge and looked him in the eyes.

“How many raids have you been on?” he asked, not letting go.

“Three.” she answered proudly. “Two into Graterious and one into Bebbezar.”

“And why did you run each time?”

A flush of anger and embarrassment overcame her face, yet she did not answer.

“Well?” he asked again.

“There were too many of them.” she said weakly. " Their armies rallied and pushed us back. We did not run away. We were forced back, after killing many times our numbers.”

“And these soldiers that pushed you back, were they just the shining and disciplined armies you first fought? Or were they bulked up by more ragged men and women, using anything they could find as a weapon, and yet each fought with the ferocity of a wolf protecting its cubs?”

She frowned deeply before looking at the ground. “Yes.”

He released his hand, slowly she began to rub where he held.

“How many raids do you think I've been on?” she looked surprised at him. “Go on, guess.”

“Nine or ten?” she said anxiously.

Ivano shook his head. “Thirty seven.”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Older than most here.”

He surveyed the clansmen at their tents. Some were barely into their second growth, quite a few could not even grow beards. That was happening more frequently as the winters dragged on. And ground them down.

“What drove you back were not just the true soldiers.” he began. “Though they did weaken you considerably.”

He grabbed her by the shoulder, though not as roughly as before.

“When we come into these lands, and kill and rape everyone because they're theives, do you honestly think they'll just give up? When their wives, husbands, daughters and sons are raped and butchered as they cower in the shadows? When the men are slaughtered and burned, while the women beg for their lives? Then enslaved to work and die in our cold mountains...Do you think they'll run? Or will they fight because they have nothing to lose?”

He shook his head again, looking at the joyful actions of the other clansmen. They knew so little of the horrors that they would unleash and receive in turn.

“We should be coming here as conquerors, not rapists and murders.”

“We-”

“That's what they see us as.” he let go and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his upper arm. Scars and wounds littered his arm, but one deep scar caught her attention. On it was a brand, a black cross seared deeply into his skin. Never healing properly. “I got this from Bebbezar, when a merchant lord figured out I was from the Clans. They captured us, branded us, and let only me go with this. They killed everyone infront of me, after making sure that I knew their names.”

A deep frown formed on her face.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugged again. “Somebody needs to know. Every winter we get smaller and weaker while these Kingdoms and Empires continue to grow. We are destroying ourselves...Someone needs to know, before the Clans are nothing more than dust.”

He expected her to refute him, to yell back at him like many that he shared his convictions with, but she kept silent. Had he gotten his message across? Only time would tell.

“Enough of this.” He began. “There will be time enough later. But now, we have a campaign and some Orcs to deal with.”

---[]---

Compared to the Clansmen encampment, the Orcs was a sprawling and jumbled mess; many of the tents were not assembled correctly, waste of all kinds was just strewn over the ground, and the Orcs, their supposed allies, seemed more interested in fighting each other than doing any sort of work. It was more a drunken party than a force ready for war. The clansmen at the edge of both camps were on guard and kept their full attention at them, just like they were an enemy force. No Orc seemed to be on watch.

“These are nothing like the old Black Fist clan.” He mumbled aloud, marvelling at the poor state of their ally. "If they were..."

“My father once told me that he fought a Black Fist Orc.” Brenna said. “That he was a honourable, brave and worthy opponent. In the end they both walked away, apparently even became friends later.”

She looked over the yelling and writhing masses of green. Many wore their armour still, a black layered carapace that covered only some of their body. It exposed a surprising amount of their green skin, many scars lay underneath. Ivano did not understand their choice of armour. Unless it was trying to show off how tough and brave they were. Not that it would stop a crossbow bolt or even a knife into their soft spots. He had seen many go down that way. That did not explain why they were hiding behind the Deweth Clansmen.

“Nothing like this.”

As she finished, an Orc at the edge of the camp fell to the ground dead. An axe protruded from his skull. A mighty cheer rang through a small huddle of Orcs, cheering that their comrade was dead. Several started to exchange small purses of gold. The clansmen guards shook their heads as they continued to watch in silence.

“More of a mob than the army we were promised.” Ivano quietly said as he approached.

The Orcs, still jeering and laughing at their dead comrade, barely noticed them approach. Only the Orc smeared with blood, the one that had done the deed, acknowledged him. He didn't wear any of the normal armour, only blood stained pants. To defeat a fully armoured Orc in his state was impressive.

“Ah!” the Orcs smiled with his toothy under-bite jaw. “Our glorious comrades!”

Ivano could feel the sarcasm drip off his words. He could also feel the hungry stares directed at Brenna. She kept her hands on her hips where he could see the outline of a small weapon. Orcs were not exactly gentle with human women. Or took no for an answer. Something about the challenge...

“I need to speak with Zig. Do you know where I can find him?”

“Ah, Our idiot commander, huh. He's over in his command tent.” he let out another scoff as he started to wipe the blood off his green muscular frame. “He's taken quite a liking to you humans way of doing things. Keeps moving it too, not really sure why. Come on, I'll show you the way.”

“What about your...” Brenna looked at the dead Orc.

He looked at her and then down at the Orc. “Oh, someone'll get rid of him. Come on. It's not every day that I get to lead our boss.”

The Orc started walking deeper into the camp, not looking back to check if they were following, or if anything was happening to the dead Orc. Ivano gave a shrug and followed. Brenna walked very close by.

“What's your name?” Ivano asked the Orc, making careful steps to not walk in a pile of fresh shit in the middle of the path.

“Surprised you asked. Name's Snakha.”

“Snakha...You seem different to the others.”

Snakha shrugged, pushing a smaller Orc out of the way. He turned back to yell at Snakha, realised who he was, and received a punch to the face for his trouble. The other Orc slinked away as Snakha looked very proud with himself.

“My father taught me well. Spent nearly every day teaching me words and writing. To be smart and think for myself. That's before I killed him.”

“Why?” Ivano asked flatly.

Snakha shrugged again. “He threw us in the the Black Fist Clan during the civil war. Once I heard you guys were going to help out the other side I knew I needed to change sides. So, I gave my fathers head to show my new loyalty.”

“I'm sure your father's very proud."

He laughed. “If he hadn't taught me so well I would have fought with him to the end.”

More fights were breaking out as they continued deeper into the camp. None seemed to end in a fatality, just more injuries and hurt pride. It was still hurting their overall army's strength.

“What did that Orc do to you?”

“Hmm?”

“The one you just killed? Just back there.”

“Oh...He had an axe that I wanted.” A wicked smile formed on his toothy jaw.

“You killed him for that?” Brenna asked, keeping very close to avoid being dragged off by a rowdy and aroused Orc. “One of your own comrades?”

Snakha shrugged once again. “I did offer him to swap his for mine. His was only little bit better, he barely would have noticed. Idiot should have listened.”

This would have never happened with the old Black Fist Clan. How far have they fallen?

Finally they arrived at a large tent. Several Orcs lounged out the front acting as guards, very badly as they barely recognised his presence. Evidently they had been told what they were meant to be doing and but not actually enforced. It seemed that Zig had very little control over his soldiers, not that he seemed to at the beginning when they all started this campaign. Tonight was no different.

“Alright. He's in there.” Snakha said, “I need to go and recover my axe before someone else has to die. Have fun with the whelp.”

He gave a wave over his back and walked towards where they came. Ivano felt quite isolated and alone, surrounded by so many Orcs. He walked into the tent, the guards did not even try and stop them.

An assassin could just walk in here. He should be more careful, especially since that's how his father came to control the Orc clans.

The inside was nothing like his own tent. Piles of goods and food littered the floor in a disorganised mess. Books and papers lay loose over the ground, dirt trodden into them dozens of times. At the center stood a large table, several Orcs standing around it while one sat. The standing Orcs wore the full body black carapace armour while the seated Orc wore bright yellow, orange and blue clothes that looked like they belonged on a flamboyant Bebbazzar Merchant Lord than an Orc. He looked up and frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

Not, how did you get in here without you knowing first?

“You know why.” Ivano said loudly.

He had not met the Orc leader, Zig, often but he did not like those brief moments. Far more so than meeting any Orc. Something just felt wrong about him, like he was wearing a flesh mask that had slipped. His ridiculous arrogance did help. Ivano always sent a messenger to deal with him. The other Orcs looked rather discomforted around him as well. He was not sure if they were feeling the same thing he was.

“Chief Ivano.” he spoke in a voice lighter than any Orc he had heard before. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

There was a smugness to his voice, and yet he spoke like some some elitist twat from the one of the Kingdoms. Unlike the black carapace armour he wore finer clothes. Like a noble. He could see something like an iron chest plate underneath, but that was all. He was trying to look more like an aristocrat rather than a warlord of Orcs. Ivano doubted he had actually fought at the front. And whether he could actually lead, he seemed to lead through birth right rather than any sort of ability.

“We need to talk.”

“Of course.” he glanced at the other Orcs. “We'll continue this later.”

He gave a wave of his hand to dismiss the other Orcs. They hesitated a moment, glancing at each other, before shrugging and following his orders. Ivano and Brenna moved out of the way. His control seemed tenuous at best.

“Please, have a seat.”

Ivano and Brenna took a seat opposite Zig.

Zig looked slightly different to the other Orcs. The others all bulged and rippled with muscles, even ones that Ivano knew that barely did any exercise. Zig was probably more slim than Ivano, only slightly bigger than Brenna. He was definitely very strong but it came from extensive work, not deriving from their natural physique. Ivano was not sure what led him to think that, but he trusted his instinct. Otherwise he was a normal Orc. One that made him question what his eyes were seeing.

“I've found out that your Orcs have taken some of the food supplies that belong to the Clansmen. I would like them returned.”

What I would like to do is reach over and punch you in the head, Orc.

“I don't know of anything like that.”

Ivano sighed. “Of course you don't. You don't seem to have much control at all.”

A grim smile formed on his face. “My father-”

“Your father, Xugug, poisoned his rival and won control of your clan with our help. His name doesn't mean much here. Seemingly neither does yours. You have a writhing horde of Orcs, and you need to get it under control, if your soldiers are just taking what they want from us. Take control!”

Zig folded his arms as he lent back into his chair.

“We need those supplies.” he said. “Our own have been destroyed by those raiders from Qaiviel.”

“So have ours.” Ivano lent forward, resting an arm on the table. “We need to work together if we want to stop these attacks. And that means not stealing from one another.”

Zig lent forward and began tapping his fingers on the table. Even those looked more thin than a normal Orc.

“What about the clansmen you've sent to hunt them down? Surely they've had some success? Orcs are a little big for such...delicate work.”

Ivano shook his head. He knew it was not true, but he felt that he should induldge him a little. “Some have had success, but four gangs are still missing. I think that they're dead.”

Zig grumbled. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Is that compassion? Your own Orcs are killing and wounding each other right now. Diminishing our army. I don't understand you.

Zig clapped his hands, focusing his attention on a map in front of him. He too had been given a copy of the map of the Qaiviel Kingdom.

“Your clansmen are having a tough time breaking through this one little city, yes?” There was a serious level of smugness to his voice.

“From what I'm hearing the city is far more prepared for a siege than we were told.”

“Orcs would not have this trouble.”

And yet you could not win a civil war on your own.

“You should let us take care of it.” Zig added.

“If you think you can actually take it, sure. Why not? Send your whole army to finish them off quickly. I would like to hear of an Orc victory. And a reversal of our fortunes.”

It was blatant false praise, but it seemed to work. Zig smiled. “Excellent. I'll let the Orcs know, we'll set to marching tomorrow.”

“You should reach it tomorrow midday, if you move quickly.”

Zig smile turned to a frown as he looked down at the map. His brown eyes looked to the south of Maxill.

“What's here?” he asked. “What's to stop us from being attacked in the rear or the side?”

Actually thinking this through...Perhaps I was a little harsh on him.

“Other towns and fortresses of the Qaiviel Kingdom.” Ivano answered. “Ones that aren't a part of this campaign.”

“Why not? There could be something valuable there. We're not getting much in the way of gold or slaves. If we take them...There might be enough to make it worthwhile for the Wrath of Doom.”

Ivano had to stop himself from laughing at the name being said aloud. He did not believe that was their name when he first heard it.

“If we attack the villages and hamlets as we head to the Border Forts, there's a good chance that they will be able to get word out to the Knight Orders of the south.” Ivano began. “Then we could be facing thousands of armored knights out on the plains, attacking us when we have nowhere to run. They would cut us down without even trying. We will be better off by leaving them alone, and not even let them we know we're here.”

“So...We'll just kill or enslave them all when we head towards the forts. Take those we can take everything of value. That way they can't send out messages for help.” Zig seemed honestly happy with what he had come up with. Ivano was not.

"If they find burnt and looted villages and hamlets they'll know they're on the right track. If they find peaceful villages they might even question whether or not we are invading. It will help to buy us the time we need."

"Unless you compensate us, I'm going to take what I want from them."

“That is not a part of the campaign.” Brenna spoke up for the first time.

It seemed that Zig had barely noticed her before now.

“It's part of ours. Otherwise, why are we here?” Zig was clearly talking about the Orcs as a whole. "We don't want these lands."

“Perhaps after the-”

“No.” Zig cut her off.

Ivano frowned deeply. “Our orders are to cut off supplies to the Border Forts and to surround and assault them in support of the larger attack from the north. Not to go and rape and pillage our way through the Kingdom.”

Zig shrugged. “Why not? We Orcs don't care for your little human rivalries.”

“That's right. You're not here because you've been promised riches and rewards. You're here because we had to save your father and you owe us. I'm asking you to rein yourself in to work with us.”

Zig frowned. “At least we'll get something out of it.” he leaned forward and moved the pieces representing their armies. “When our forces attack these points towards the forts, I'll have some of my Orcs attack the smaller hamlets and villages. We should get quite a haul of slaves and riches...and food for the campaign.”

Ivano could not argue with the last part but he had no intention of unintentionally raising an army of angry peasants and hunters to harass them. To whittle down their army while they blindly lashed out, only to create even more enemies. Every survivor of these raids could join the enemy armies and bolster their forces in readiness for next raid. Not to mention that they will alert the whole Kingdom to their presence and bring down their full force. Better to move as a silently for now.

“No. We won't be doing that.” Ivano said gruffly. “We will take Maxill then continue north west until we reach the Border Forts and their supply lines.”

“You don't command the Orcs. I do.” Zig had an aura of smugness about him. “And they will do what I say. We will be sending Orcs to raid and pillage as I see fit. Since it seems you don't have the strength to fulfill your name sake as Clansmen, I-”

Something within Ivano snapped. The words coming out this Orc annoyed him to no end. He reached over, with all the speed that he could muster, and grabbed the back of Zig's head and slammed it into the wooden table. Wood splintered and broke as he head was thrown down and into the ground. His body followed and splayed and rolled about as he tried to fight him off.

“Listen well.” Ivano hissed. “I am in charge of this offensive, and you will be following my orders. That was the will of the Deweth Clan Chiefs and especially your father. Remember him? Do you understand what I'm saying?”

He tried to stand but Ivano put more pressure on his head. Some parts of his Clansmen lifestyle were impossible to change, Brenna sat motionless as she watched.

“Fine.” he grumbled as the pressure was released. “But I still want the Orcs to attack and sack that city, Maxill. That is still going to be my honor. The first of many.”

“I don't have a problem with that.” Ivano answered, raising him up. “But, you'll be going with them to make sure it's done.”

Zig brushed himself off, a few splinters of wood stuck near his hairline. “And what will you be doing while I lead the assault?”

“I will be organizing the next stage of the campaign, where we will head towards the Border Forts. So long as you take the city quickly there shouldn't be a problem.”

“Should there be?” Zig asked, massaging his head. “Orcs can take one little city.”

“Don't underestimate them. These raids on our forces have carried on for some time.” he began. “It's entirely possible that the Duchess, and the rest of her followers, already know about us. They've made a rotten border town into a fortress. Who knows what else she's got planned.”

“Some of those hunters and raiders would have reported back before the first forces even attacked Maxill.” Zig said, massaging his head. “So of course she would know.”

Ivano nodded. “That doesn't explain everything, unfortunately. It just tells us that we need to move quickly, otherwise we'll all end up dead in this wretched kingdom.”

He picked up the map, brushing off some splinters of wood, and showed Zig.

“See. If they get the message out, all these forces from here.” Ivano pointed to the south and west of Qaiviel. “Will start to push down on us. We won't have anywhere to run and we'll be crushed. Nowhere to run. It's entirely possible they would have sent out the message. Even more reason to get this over with. Capture that city so we can move on with the campaign. If they find us still laying siege they'll destroy us. If they find a ruin they won't know where we've gone. You've got a day, two at most, to take Maxill.”

“You don't have anything to worry about.” Zig thumped his chest proudly.

Ivano sighed, barely suppressing rolling his eyes, and made for the exit. “Just make sure that your Orcs take the city. The clansmen that are there will support you. And return the food you stole!”

“Fine. We'll take the city for you.”

With that, they both left the Orc alone in the tent.

---[]---

Ivano made a speedy return to his tent. He did not want to be in the Orc side of the camp any longer than he had to. They met the Orc, Snakha, again, all too eager to show off his spoils of murder. His claimed axe was slightly larger and sharper than the one sticking out of the dead Orc. He seemed very proud of his work, though disappointed that the other Orcs did not remove the body. Ivano and Brenna quickly excused themselves from their camp. He had even wanted to show Brenna what sort of warrior he really was. Thankfully, she made the smart decision to turn him down and make a speedy exit with him. He did not want to have to find a battered corpse when they started to move again. These Orcs were not gentle.

The other clansmen had returned in his absence after doing a full stock on their resources. It was not good. Even without the Orcs having taken some supplies, which had been returned very quickly since the meeting, they would be hard pressed to make the campaign with what they had. Sixty thousand people devoured their way through their extensive supplies like he could not imagine. Qaiviel hunters had continued to raid them every day and night of the campaign. Some of their food had been poisioned as well, further diminishing their supplies.

“Perhaps Zig was right.” Brenna began. “We could take some food from the villages we pass.”

“We might have to.” Ivano grumbled.

He ran his hand through his hair again, his own feeling strange on his fingers. There were black hairs covering his hand, black hair which he did not have. They were slightly sticky as well but they came off when he rubbed his hands together.

“Odd...Anyway. We have a plan where this can work and we need to follow it.”

Ivano had drawn on the map to recreate what he had told Zig. However, many of the Clansmen present seemed to disapprove of the plan.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“It...all seems to be a very big risk.” a Clansmen spoke up. “What is so important about taking the city? Why not just keep moving to the forts?”

“If we don't they could use it to launch attacks on our rear.” Ivano replied. “It's the only place for many miles where they could organize and supply any attacks. Not an army, but this is certainly where the hunters are based. They could litter hundreds throughout the land. Picking us off at every opportunity. You should never leave enemy forces behind to harass you from the rear if you can help it. And if we do take it we'll have enough supplies to finish the campaign.”

“And if we don't take it?” Brenna asked.

“Then we'll have to continue towards the border forts at all speed. Those stupid Orcs can be our rear guard then if they fail. Such undisciplined, ungrateful creatures. I'm sure they'll bog down the knights long enough for us to finish our mission.”

Ivano lent back, staring at the few stands of black hair on his hands. Something was starting to form in his head. About why he felt such strange feelings when he saw Zig.

He's meant to be the son of Xugug....Is he the first son. A thrall? It might explain a lot. Though not why the Orcs follow him. Do they not know, or do they just not care? His father's reputation...as a murdering usurper? Ha! From what I've seen, no. I might want to ask that Orc, Snakha, later. Find out what I can.

He had no way of knowing for sure, though using such an argument against Zig to get him motivated would only cause their army to disintegrate even further.

“Everyone is dismissed.” Ivano said. “There's not much else we can do tonight. Make sure everyone gets lots of rest. It might be the last good one for some time.”

Ivano looked down at the map infront of him. Something told him that this hastily thrown together campaign and force would not succeed. The Clan's Chieftains had been so eager for this, chomping at the bit now they had a massive increase in forces. So little planning and preperation had gone in. Nevertheless, he had to persevere and continue as best he could. His life, both here and back in the Clans, would be over if he did not.

Brenna was waiting near the tent entrance. Catching his eye brought a smile to her mouth.

“Tomorrow could be a serious battle.” she began. “And I've never done it with one of these slaves. You up for one?”

Ivan laughed. “Surely you're not talking about a man for me?”

She shrugged, and smiled as she raised her hands in apology. “My brother is like that. Doesn't bother me at all.”

“No. But, do you want to watch?” he asked teasingly, rolling up the map.

She shrugged again. “Might be the last night...”

He laughed heartily again, locking the maps away. He placed his arm around her shoulders as they walked out.

“Why not.” he said. “Give us something to gear us up for the fight.”

-----------

Hello again.

I wanted to try and show the perspective from the other side of the invasion. The Clansmen leader is a radical, for his side, wanting to conquer rather than outright kill their enemies. He's the outsider, so imagine what the rest of them are like. However, he has no qualms at sacrificing the Orcs if something goes wrong.

Also the issues of two armies with wildly different leadership styles and objectives for their invasion. I'm sure that happens in real life. In this case the Clansmen want to ransack while the Orcs are here because they owe the Clans a favour. That affects their willingness to fight and what they are willing to do in the invasion. The Orcs are not that enthused about being here and it reflects in their behaviour.

These Orcs are far more like the Warhammer breed of Orc, rather than the Warcraft one that they met at the lake. Basically all the good ones are dead or not fighting, as the two lamented on how different they are now.

The Orc leader...There's no two ways about it. He's more than likely a Thrall. Since they are meant to be so physically different than a normal Orc it's rather hard to keep it a secret. More like an open secret. None of the Orcs really give him much respect, not that he seems to care, and acts like he's still in charge.

It seems that Duchess Belinda and Alfred took Anton's words seriously. They've held off a force for some time but not for much longer. Thankfully there's help coming towards them, not that they know that.

We will be following the Clansmen leader. See how things, set in motion here, start to affect the world.

Basically, that's that.

Thanks for reading! And for any Donations!