Around a month has passed since my glorious raid over the Goblin tribes. Wealth now flocks to our people, with the high caste pretty much all being equipped with weapons. But during this time, I was still consistently being pestered by my subordinates for a position at my side in my war squad. Of course, during that time and my successful raid, my father had decided (after the festival), he would hold an official ceremony promoting me to a 10 man commander.

Not just a war squad leader now, a proper lieutenant in charge of 10 men. That might not seem like a lot, but considering the largest orc retinues were made up of roughly 120 or so men, I wielded roughly a 12th of the troops. Though of course, most of them are children after all. But despite that, I am eager and hungry for battle.

I have sparred with many of the subordinates and found them lacking, at least in the low caste. It would seem I would have to recruit from the upper and middle castes from now on, having crushed every single person in the low caste under the age of 12, as 12 was the age an Orc fully matures.

Of course, I still shouldn’t expect too much, but the potential recruits were just poor. I thought maybe there would be a story trope where a “poor underdog” rises up but no. None of them put up a good fight, all of them were simply destroyed in one sided beatdowns. I have yet to challenge or take a look at the middle caste, but considering that As’Kal the “unnotable” is from the middle caste, I might not keep my hopes up.

But now, it was time for the festival. It took a long while to reach there, with all the hyenas and what not. Of course, a large sum of people would have to stay behind and look after the village to prevent non orc raiders invading. Normally, children under the age of 6 would be expected to stay behind. But since I was the “Chosen of Pandar” and I was the chieftain’s son, I was granted special privilege.

The festival was quite large, spanning a handful of miles. It served as small city (by medievial standards), with thousands if not tens of thousands, or hundreds of thousands orcs all gathering together. Of course, not all orcs across this large continent could make it to the festival.

So there are multiple festivals helds based on religious or sacred ground in a general vicinity. Since we were to the west, the festival was always held at Lightning Rock. A simple large rock that had been struck by lightning, coincidentally carving out a symbol of lightning itself onto its surface. The Orcs interpreted it as Pandar Himself shaping the rock with his divine lightning, so, it was considered to be a holy spot.

The stone was around the size of a 7 foot tall orc, which didn’t make it too large. But it seemed to resist the effects of the natural elements. Perhaps it had some divine energy or arcane power infused in it after all. The festivals were separated by having a large main area surrounding the stone and an outside area consisting of the many villages.

Of course, the villages had to be separated into their own little sections to prevent those with animosity from killing each other.. Naturally those villages with animosity to each other would separate from each other, having one or more village groups in between to break them up.

Another reason for the villages being separated was to prevent stealing. Of course, even though the Orcs were a savage warrior species that killed each other without mercy, they still had an honor system and moral code. Stealing is strongly frowned upon after all. The difference between raiding and stealing is that while stealing, the enemy can’t fight back. While raiding, the enemy has an opportunity to fight back and even kill you.

There is a degree of risk and honor involved, while in stealing, the risk is lessened significantly. Though, debatably, it is more riskier to steal. As the punishment for stealing is torture, death, slavery or banishment considering how much a person stole and who the person stole it from.

The festival was just beginning and I decided to not interact or do too much today, deciding to stick to the village. The middle area served as a market, a sparring area and a meeting area. When the sun begins to set, a speech will be held to officially start the festival which would then last for around 7 days until everyone splits up.

I sigh loudly, deciding to take a nap in my tent before heading out to do anything. It was quite boring after all and I had nothing better to do.

______

Chaganath’s perspective

I sighed loudly, it had been a few hours since we arrived at Lightning rock and now the festival was starting. Of course, the festival would be led by the strongest chieftain of the strongest village/tribe. That being said, it was going to be our Chieftain Gortholax of the Asatru.

I didn’t pay much attention listening to him giving his speech, I spent most of it simply leaning against the ground with my arms pressed down and looking at him with a dazed gaze. I was more of a man of action than listening to pointless drivel. Sure, I respected the chieftain but I cared little for the speech he was giving right now.

Most of the people sitting around me I recognized as being those from my tribe. They all seemed to be from the various castes, though most of them were from the low caste. Of course, they were all paying rapt attention to the Chieftains words. But I couldn’t really care, just picking up the occasional words every now and then.

I sighed loudly, looking down at the grass on the ground and ripping at it absentmindedly. A feast would be happening after the speech. And that was what I was looking forward to, to tuck into the flesh of antelopes and buffalos. I exhaled quietly, not wanting to make too loud a noise as it was oddly silent for once. Silence in Orc culture was uncommon, unless they were asleep, or in this case, paying attention to a stronger orc. I sighed loudly, closing my eyes and slowly managing to doze off.

In what seemed like a few seconds later, I heard rancorous shouting and clapping. My eyes shot open and I saw everyone standing up. I immediately shot up, hopefully nobody noticed as well, clapping my hands as well. As the Chieftan Gortholax waved a hand, he gestured to our right. Of course, to our right there was now a feast area set up, with rudimentary stumps of wood as tables and seats.

“And NOW! We Feast!”In a characteristic manner, the orcs made a mad dash for the food. With the orcs quickly assigning themselves by friend groups. With goblin slaves from each respective village attending to their respective masters. As I sat down, it appeared that my commander Simba appeared out of the woodwork, sitting down next to me.

Of course, we are immediately hounded by people around our age to sit at the 10 man table. But thankfully, most of the rest seemed to be high caste competent people. As I sat at Simba’s right and As’Kal sat at his left, the rest of the chairs were filled out by children of High Caste Warriors.

Immediately, the voices of those people hounded him, leaning over the tables with mouthfuls or handfuls of food to shout or beg him for a chance to join his retinue, at least to their knowledge, of 5 men, which meant there were 3 spots left.

Simba didn’t pay them any mind, simply continuing to eat from his large hunk of antelope meat. It was one of the younger ones, a fawn. With a large tankard of alcohol next to him, fine quality of course. The alcohol was most common in Orcish lands but since the process of fermentation of the herbs and materials used was lengthy and the herbs being rare, this specific variant is quite expensive and only awarded to the high caste.

Orcish brine, I myself do not know how to brew it, but it is said being addicted to it and drinking too much will lead one to irrational behaviour and extreme bouts of anger. Perhaps it is why some legendary Orcish warriors, known as “berserkers” drink copious amounts of it before battle, sending them into a battle frenzy.

He continues eating and sipping from the drinks, paying them no mind. Of course, until one of the high caste members brushes into him, causing his drink to be spilled out of his hand, knocking it to the ground. He pauses, as everyone quietens, immediate fear and anxiousness beset everyone.

This member had just knocked out an expensive drink out of the son of the chieftain, causing its contents to spill on the floor. Simba stops midchew of an antelope's leg, setting it down on his clay plate. He turns over and looks at the orc who knocked the cup out of his hand.

The orc was standing behind him, roughly at 5’5, stammering. He was obviously near maturity, but the tales of the Son of the Chieftain's bravery, his status and skill in combat had shook him to his core. A child perhaps half his age had stunned him into fear. Simba glared at him with sudden fury, immediately standing up.

In fear of Simba, the older person collapsed to the ground in a shock. This was incredibly embarrassing for him, at least, under normal circumstances. To be afraid of a child half his age? But this was not an ordinary orcish child, he was special. I eat quietly, watching. Of course, As’kal doesn’t pay attention, continuing to eat. He seemed to have gotten used to our lord's brash temper and arrogant personality.

However, to my surprise, Simba decided not to beat him, simply saying two words.

“Fuck off.”

And of course, the person immediately left, not wanting to incur the wrath of the child and quickly scampered off. A few of the other orcs had noticed and laughed at him as he ran away. They had no understanding nor context of the situation, only seeing a near full grown orc run away at a mere child. Simba sat back down, picking up the cup and pouring himself another jar of Orcish brine, sipping from it in a calm manner. At that moment, I thought that he seemed quite like my father and Chieftain Gortholax.

Both of them were close friends and acted in a relatively un-orcish manner. They didn’t laugh loudly or shout, at least, most of the time. They were relatively quiet and seemed to be level headed. This was unlike my lord at all, as he was more likely to shout or beat anyone who had earned his displeasure. But it seemed like he was beginning to resemble his father more and more after all.

He continues to eat, as everyone slowly goes back to what they were doing. But now, they avoided pestering him, simply shutting up and eating. Which was probably what my lord wanted, in effect. To enjoy a meal in perfect silence.

He glances towards me, gesturing with his head to the food and I quickly comply. I couldn’t know if he would be like a feral hyena, suddenly switching from calm to aggressive in a drop of a stone. I tuck into my food, not wanting to incur his wrath. We were lucky that he was in a good mood or he might have beaten that man who challenged him to death.

______

Simba’s perspective

The feasting had gone relatively smoothly. Drunken brawls and tirades had broken out at the other table, but not at mine. Everyone was afraid of me. All of them feared me. All of them were afraid of what I would do if they incurred my wrath. Good, I was getting tired of yelling and beating people. As long as the fear of that is inthe back of their heads, they wouldn’t get so damn uppity.

Hopefully it means for a time I won’t have to go out of my way to discipline people. Sure, I might like violence. But just beating on potential allies and cannon fodder seems somewhat counter productive at times. Even though I have a bit of a cruel streak, its tiresome keeping it up. Being “super evil’ all the time is tiresome.

I continue eating, tearing into my food and quickly finishing up. By now, the games of sport have started, as everyone was filled up. Games of sprinting and marathon running. One of the more popular ones seems to be spear throwing, where one chucks a spear the farthest at a set up target.

Of course after that, there is sparring, which simply put is just trying to beat the other into submission without losing. No gouging, biting, attacking the groin or permanently maiming is allowed. Of course, despite how violent the orcish people are, there are still rules in place to prevent too much unnecessary death.

I’m currently watching one of the sparring matches, trying to find anyone talented. So far it was all brutes who used their strength. And of course, I am followed by my group of fanboys. They have all avoided speaking to me for now, eager to avoid my wrath.

I exhale loudly, the fight had finished. I sigh loudly, looking onto the next fight. It appeared that one of my fanboys was going to fight another member of another tribe, around the same age. Oh great, he’s trying to impress me. Good luck with that.

I watched bored, simply standing there with glazed over eyes. That was, until he got into a kickboxing stance, exactly the same as mine. Now that, that got my attention. My eyes snapped open as I began to pay full attention to the bout.

This, this will be interesting.

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Feedback/comments are appreciated as always. If you enjoy, please upvote the post, thanks! Oh also, any speculation about the future of the story? Feel free to leave that in the comments too, I fucking love that shit.