Dexter

The rest of the day passed by slowly, which was, for once, a good thing. We had a total of three classes that day and I tried to absorb as much as possible from them. The Spell Construction class was actually pretty interesting. Considering it was starting to become increasingly necessary for me to actually create a new spell, I jotted down as much as I could. This teacher did the same thing as Orakh, conjuring up what I can only assume to be an Illusion spell and having it morph as he spoke. Though he only did it occasionally and would just lecture most of the time. Eventually, he reached the end of his lecture and dismissed the class, but not without one last announcement. “I remind all of you that the final project is due at the end of the term. Since we have two new faces I will reiterate the assignment. You are tasked with creating a spell and submitting it to the Institute's Repository. You are not expected to create a battle worthy spell, just create a spell that does not exist yet. You will be marked based on the documents submitted to me and the Repository for the spell you have created, and the accuracy and effectiveness of the spell, and your description of it. Bonus points will be awarded for creativity and usability. Almost any field of magic is open for the assignment, so long as the practice is not prohibited. Beyond that, you are allowed to work in groups, but will need to submit your own copy of the documents for each of you. Beyond that, I have nothing else to say but good luck and have a nice day.”

The next noise that filled the room was one of ruffling parchment and the drag of chairs across the floor. Amelia and I followed suit as we packed our things away and prepared to go to our next classes. “We have a lot of catching up to do there,” I noted as we walked out the door.

Amelia nodded as she drummed her fingers on her satchel thoughtfully. “I'm pretty sure he used some terms I only have a passing notion of. The rest was easy enough to piece together, but I have a feeling those terms are going to be a large part of spell making.”

I shrugged as I reached into my backpack and pulled out my schedule again. “Maybe, maybe not. We can read up on it when we get back. For now, we still have one more class to atte-” I was suddenly cut off as a hand slapped my shoulder and I jumped as I spun to stare at the source. An orc in a fluffy brown shawl grinned back. His dark brown hair was cut unusually short for an orc, nearly matching his shawl in terms of color.

Meanwhile, his hazel eyes seemed to beam up happily at me. “Having a pleasant first day?” he asked happily.

I glanced at Amelia before answering. Her face held the same shocked and confused expression I'm sure I was carrying. “No complaints so far,” I replied, turning back to him, my heart still pounding from the sudden slap. “Admittedly we're a little more behind than we initially thought, but that's nothing a little studying can't fix.”

The orc grinned widely and nodded as he glanced at the crowd walking around us. “I would imagine that to be difficult. Even an experienced mage would struggle to catch up after a single month of absence. I cannot fathom how you will manage to recover from this.”

I shrugged again as the near countless nights of studying and reading I’d already done flashed through my mind. “It'll be tough, but it's more than doable,” I said, trying to keep a positive outlook. “It's just going to take a bit of time.”

The orc nodded again as the crowd finally faded and the door to the classroom closed. “With that being said, perhaps I can assist with that.”

I and Amelia looked at him curiously. Amelia was the first to ask the question. “Are you offering to help us study?” She asked.

The orc suddenly looked uneasy as he scratched the back of his neck. “If you think you need my help.” He said quickly. “I am unsure if you require it.”

I finally chuckled and gestured calmingly at his now uneasy form. “No no, that might be exactly what we need; someone to explain the subject so that we don't start getting into an argument about correct interpretations and whatnot.”

Amelia let out a laugh of her own at that notion. “I doubt we'd argue that much. Besides, what would we argue about?”

I shrugged as I cast my mind about for an example. “Why do physicists debate the properties of the universe? Because they have different experiences and focus on different interpretations. It's not their fault it's so complicated, it's just how it is.”

Amelia’s grin subsided as she shook her head. “But this isn't that complicated. We have a literal guide to the thing we would be discussing. We'd just have to turn to the book if we disagree.”

I thought about it for a moment, then shrugged again as I gestured to the orc. “He could help us avoid them in the first place. Plus, it'll compress our time frame and get us closer to Adympia.”

Amelia pursed her lips and looked up at me annoyedly. “Why do you always say that? What is it with you and compressing time frames?”

I chuckled again and shrugged. “It sounds cooler than saying it saves us some time,” I admitted. “Plus, it instantly makes anything sound important.”

The orc suddenly spoke again, interrupting our conversation. “I was only offering.” He said quickly. “You do not have to accept.”

I shook my head and gestured calmingly at him. “No no, we accept the offer. I think we're just butting heads a bit. Tell you what; we still have one more class to go to, come on up to the barn after that's done and we can start studying. You know where it is, right?”

The orc nodded. “I believe most people know where you reside. You do happen to be the only two outsiders in the entire city.”

I nodded as I glanced at my watch. “We better get going.” I then held out my hand to the orc. “It was nice meeting you . . .”

“Gremach.” He supplied, taking my hand and shaking it.

I nodded as we let go and I glanced at Amelia. “Well, Gremach, we'll see you at the barn.” Gremach nodded as I turned and started walking down the hall, shortly followed by Amelia.

She ran a bit to catch up and started walking beside me. “Are you sure we need his help?” She asked. “We’ve been doing pretty well on our own”

I considered for a minute, then shrugged. “It can't hurt to have an experienced viewpoint.” I countered. “At worst we don't actually need him and end up just studying like normal. At best, he tells us something we didn't know about or wasn't covered in the book and we avoid the headache of finding that out the hard way. Besides, what's the first thing you recommend when someone is struggling in a class?”

Amelia shrugged as she replied. “A tutor, but we're not struggling in the class yet.”

I shrugged as I gestured behind us. “I always thought it best to stay ahead of any potential struggle and right now we're really far behind. We do have an advantage, but that only goes so far. We still need to catch up before any tests come up; there's probably some preliminary knowledge we're lacking to answer any real questions. Not to mention the homework we have to do.”

Amelia paused then shrugged as we started walking down the stairs. “I guess you have a point. There are definitely some limiting factors. Though I doubt this would be much faster.”

It was my turn to shrug as we emerged into the entrance hall. “Still, it's going to help. Now then, where is the courtyard.”

Amelia shrugged as she gestured towards a door. “No idea, but I'm pretty sure my alchemy class starts soon. I better get to the dungeons. I'll see you back at the barn.” I nodded and waved her off as I reached back and pulled the map out again. I scanned the page for a minute before finding a spot in the center of the map labeled Courtyard. It was on the first floor and surrounded by the rest of the institute. I was surprised it existed at all considering, the size of the building itself. I reminded myself of the spacial enchantments that surrounded me as I quickly found a route and set out towards the Courtyard.

It took a little while to walk all that way, surprising considering the size of the building. Eventually, I pushed open a door and stepped into the Courtyard. I looked around in amazement at the large stretch of grass before me, littered with trees and boulders before meeting the opposite side of the Institute, impossibly large for the building I know it was supposed to be within. A group of about twenty orcs was standing near the center, likely discussing the class that was about to begin. I rushed over as I continued glancing around. The occasional window punctuated the wall, spaced kind of like how the doors in the upper hallway were spaced. The courtyard wasn't open to the sky. Rather a glass, or at least what passed for glass, ceiling covered the courtyard, bathing the floor below in murky yellow light. I noticed a pile of satchels near the crowd. I slowed to a stop as I finally arrived at the group of orcs. They all turned to me and gave me quizzical looks. “Do you require something?”

One of them asked. I shook my head as I set my backpack next to the other satchels and began stretching. “I’m here for the class. I wanted a fast track for defensive magic. So, Garahk gave me a defensive combat class.” I explained quickly. The orcs glanced at each other but didn't say anything. I put on a reassuring grin. I knew I was well behind. I hadn’t even taken my first lesson of regular combat magic. “Don't mind me. I'm just going to watch and try to catch up.” The orcs glanced at each other again and one of them seemed about to speak but was interrupted as the door to the Courtyard opened again. In stepped another orc, this one obviously much more experienced. Her shawl was a pale blue color despite the yellow light. Her long black hair was tied into a long braid then fell partway down her back. Her green eyes were scrutinizing a book as she closed the door behind her. I tilted my head slightly as I felt a familiarity coming from her appearance. I could have sworn I saw her face before, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was practically burning the tip of my tongue.

She walked over, nose still reading the book thoroughly, and stopped in front of us. She read for another minute before looking up and smiling at us, stopping as she noticed me standing amongst them. “Hello there. Do you require one of my students?”

I shook my head as I took a step forward. “I'm actually here for the class,” I responded. “I hope that doesn't interrupt the schedule you set up.”

The orc paused for a second then closed the book with a loud bang and shrugged. “That depends on what you expect. Do you expect me to set apart my time to ensure you know the necessary prior material? Or will you be the one to attempt to rectify the lack of knowledge you possess?”

I let out an understanding sigh as I nodded. I expected a question like that at some point. Oddly enough, hearing the question from her wasn’t as anxiety-inducing as I thought it would be. “Given that I've dropped in, unannounced, I think it's only fair that I'm the one that fixes the informational gap,” I replied. “I assure you, I’ll do my best to rectify my lack of knowledge and try to be on par with the rest of your students within a month.”

The teacher paused for a moment to consider my response. Then she nodded as she put the book into her satchel and slipped it off her shoulder, setting it on the ground apart from the others. “That is the correct answer. Fortunately, you've arrived just after a respite and that means I have a review for the entire class. You will be required to learn the material I cover, but for now, you can merely stand there and pay attention. You will also, of course, be required to make up any homework we already completed.” I nodded as she glanced at the others, seeming to scrutinize them carefully. Then she gestured with her hand and began her lesson.

The combat class was a lot more hands-on than the others. After her review, she had a short lecture about defending a large group of people, followed by a demonstration of the proper spell. Then she had us lineup and practice certain gestures. I tried to follow along as best I could, but I was too far behind to actually cast the spell. After a while, she had the class pair up and practice the defensive spell, taking turns to test their barriers against certain spells. Given my lack of available knowledge, she handed me a book and told me to study the spells within. I nodded as I sat cross-legged in the dirt and began reading, glancing up from my writing occasionally to watch the others cast their barriers. They seemed a lot more complex than the one I was taught. It spread out to the sides more and seemed to be made of many hexagonal segments rather than one massive shield. The teacher spent the time going around the different groups, giving gentle instructions to help them maintain the barrier. After a while the teacher walked over and sat beside me, gesturing to the book as she did. “How goes your studies?” She asked curiously.

I shrugged as I turned the page to the previous spell. “I've managed to learn one spell, but it's so complex that it would probably take me five minutes to cast it. I definitely wouldn't have been able to learn enough about magic to use it during the rite.”

She nodded as she glanced at the other students. Somewhere down the line one of the barriers was broken. “No one ever seems to comprehend the effort we put into the spell. If you see a mage cast a spell in battle, they have cast it thousands of times in private. Then they must cast it several thousand more to achieve a modicum of ease.”

I nodded as I looked at the spell again, studying the gestures on last time. “It must be that way for a lot of spells,” I added. I grinned to myself as I remembered all the practice I and the other initiates did to prepare for the rite. I could see a few parallels being drawn as I considered the similarities. “It must be a universal concept then.” I continued. “I've been through a bit of what the warriors go through, it's just a bunch of repetition. From what I saw at Sherkul’s forge, the same can be said for his blacksmiths. I know Shurkul forged just about all the items in his shop. I can't imagine how many others he made.”

The teacher paused for a minute then shrugged. “I suppose you are correct. Though I doubt the Warriors have to dedicate as much of their own time as we must.” I nodded as I turned to stare at her. I swear I'd seen her somewhere before. Her face just screamed of someone I should know or had known. I closed my eyes and rubbed my head as I tried to find the match. Suddenly, her voice penetrated my thoughts, causing me to turn to her again. “Are you alright? You seem concerned about something.”

I shook my head as I absentmindedly brushed some dirt off the page. “You just seem familiar, that's all. It's just eating at me that I can't quite recall where I saw you.”

She let out an understanding hmm and nodded, turning back to her students. “I tend to get that a lot. It is a consequence of my blood. You are likely thinking of one of my family members. We are often told we look alike, despite our differences. He is likely what has caused the sensation you are feeling.”

I looked at her quizzically, still trying to piece together where I'd seen her. The green eyes appeared to twinkle mischievously as she watched me ponder. Her dark hair was a sharp contrast to the blue fluffy shawl she wore. She started to smile as I continued to rack my brain. My eyes suddenly widened as a hint of recognition flashed across my mind. I realized she wouldn’t look out of place behind a tavern bar. “You're Brugo's sister, aren't you.” I suddenly said, Brugo’s conversation snapping to the front of my mind.

She let out a small laugh as she nodded. “Indeed I am.” She chuckled. “You were not present for introductions; so, I will inform you. I am Bruga, daughter of Parfu. And from what my brother has told me, you are a very capable fighter. He even felt indebted enough to you to present you with a life debt. I would say he made a hasty decision, but then again you made one that was equally hasty. Though I suppose it was for a noble cause. You certainly have a unique way with words.”

I nodded as I glanced at the scar on my forearm, memories of the rite flashing through my mind. “Brugo recruited very capable warriors,” I said, turning back to Bruga. “I wouldn't have my title without them. Them or your brother.”

Bruga nodded and I noticed her glancing a short way behind me. I turned to see where she was looking, but saw only trees. I suddenly felt a finger glide along my back, just over my brand and I turned back in time to see Bruga pull her hand away. “You endured much to obtain that honor.” She remarked, lowering her hand again. “I am sure many, even those here, could not accomplish what you did.”

I found myself chuckling as I glanced at the other students again. “To be fair, I was damn lucky. Just surviving the battle was lucky but earning the support to gain the title from me just stumbling through it is beyond rare. A single misstep would have either killed me or not swayed enough people to earn me the title.”

Bruga shook her head at that. “You are too modest. From what I’ve been told, you fought ferociously during the battle and have earned a proper honor. There are many that owe their lives to you, my brother included.”

I nodded as I turned back to the book resting on my knees. “So I've been told,” I said flatly. “I was just having a goddamn tantrum. Not many other ways to put it. I just got lucky.” I shook my head as I turned back to the book and addressed Bruga. “That’s why I’m studying though.” Bruga gave me a curious look as I continued. “I’m studying so that I can be better prepared for any battle I go into. I barely made it out of that first one alive. . . . Amelia helped patch me up after I got back to the barn. I was a god damn mess. I could have died if it wasn’t for her.”

Bruga appeared to hesitate for a moment then nodded solemnly as she turned to watch her students once more. “I am glad you are taking these matters so seriously.” She said, not addressing me directly. “It means you intend to fill the role you have so graciously been given. If you are successful, then perhaps the future is brighter than I thought.” I felt encouraged by the words. It was oddly comforting knowing I was being taught by Brugo’s sister. I already had experience with Brugo, and it seemed she already knew a lot about me. I was practically ecstatic about learning from her. Then she turned to me, her face carrying a stern expression, one of a family member the knew of loss and knew they hated it. Her familiar and calming voice suddenly shifted to one of grave tidings and deliberate intentions. “However, if the North is wrong about your character, I shall not hesitate to cut your actions short. My brother has chosen to trust you, but I have yet to see your heart’s true motive. Do not betray us, or you shall find the Institute most unpleasant.”

I let out a nervous gulp as Bruga gave me a cold expression, her eyes burning with determination as her words barely made it past the immediate vicinity. I let out a sigh as I looked down at the book, trying to change the subject. “I won’t disappoint then,” I replied, not wishing to press the matter any further. “A-Anyway, I should finish memorizing this other spell. I-I can practice them when I get back to the barn. Hopefully, I'll be ready to participate a bit more for the next class.”

Bruga didn't say anything for a minute then stood and brushed herself off. Her voice had returned to her cheerful almost bubbly tone. “Well, if you require assistance before the end of class, you know where I shall be.” I nodded as she turned and strode over to the lines of orcs, continuing her instruction on the shielding spell. I wiped my face as I felt a trail and wetness beginning to descend my cheek.

I let out an exhausted sigh as I finally arrived back at the barn. The interior was darkened as I pulled open the door. I cast Illuminate and tossed the glowing orb into the room, revealing the mess of tables and papers within. I let out another sigh as I walked in and made a mental note of tidying up later. For now, I wanted to practice the spell I'd learned in defensive magic. I pulled out the notes I'd jotted down and began going through the various gestures and incantations to cast the spell.

After a few minutes, a barrier materialized in front of me, letting off a faint blue glow. I inspected the shield carefully, feeling a gentle pressure as I pushed against the field from the inside. “It certainly feels solid. It could definitely do more to stop incoming spells. Though I probably can't use this in a fight, not right now at least. I can't be gesturing for five minutes for a single shield. I'll need to practice to compress the time down to only a few seconds. So for now . . . “

I let the spell dissipate and began casting again, getting partway through the spell before the door behind me was pulled open and I turned to identify the source. I saw Amelia walk through the door, carrying a wooden box in her arms and setting it on a table with a sigh. She was immediately followed by Gremach, who seemed to stare at her in concern. “If you required assistance you needed only ask.”

Amelia shook her head as she panted. “For the last time . . . I said I'm good. . . I don't need help . . . carrying one box.”

I took a step towards them as I spoke, causing them to turn to me. “There's no shame in asking for help. What’s the point in straining yourself right now? We're allowed to take it a bit easy if we need to.”

Amelia let out an angry sigh and shook her head. “I can handle it. . I just need some time.” I watched as she panted for a few more minutes, then straightened, giving me a determined stare.

I let out a sigh as I turned and focussed on Gremach. “Shall we get this tutoring session started?”

Gremach nodded as he reached into his satchel and pulled out a book. “Let us begin.”

We spent the next couple of hours learning the basics of spell making. In that time, we learned a lot more about spell weaving than what the books had told us. Each spell was more than just gestures and words. They were a set of instructions that told the mana how to interact with the world. The way he described it, these instructions built a construct to accomplish these interactions, the gestures and incantations being the medium through which mages could create and deploy these constructions. I started to grin as I realized it was similar to a mechanical patent or blueprint. Each instance of the spell was like an assembly line for the final product. We worked well through the day to learn the basics and then went a little further to try and catch up to the class. All the while, Gremach would glance at the stove as it let out a low rattle.

Eventually, Gremach's curiosity broke and he pointed to the autoclave. “What potion are you brewing to have it set so high for so long? And what are those devices surrounding the lid?”

I waved nonchalantly at the rattling pot as I explained. “It's a rudimentary autoclave. It's what I'm using to grow the crystals.” Gremach nodded as he stood and approached the stove. “I don't recommend touching it. If you undo it without relieving the pressure it'll explode and cover you in acid.”

Gremach stopped in his tracks and started to stare apprehensively at the cauldron. “You are not concerned with it doing so without my influence?” I shook my head.

“I check the vises every day. They're not going anywhere without me knowing.”

Gremach paused then nodded as he gazed at the autoclave from afar. He suddenly spoke as an idea seemed to come to him. “It is no secret that you wish to create a weapon. Would a device such as this not prove to be useful in battle?”

I shook my head as I began listing off the disadvantages of trying such a thing. I’d already thought about pressurized cauldrons when I realized what the lightning stone would do to it. “It's a lot more resource-intensive than some of the other things I can think of off the top of my head. Hell, now that I've learned a bit about spell making I can probably make a spell that spits boiling acid similar to what the autoclave would do. Plus, I'd need to make a firing mechanism that can reliably activate without the worry of the tank failing and covering the troops in the same boiling acid. Not to mention the production of all that acid. You might be able to make it, but that doesn't mean you can make it on an industrial scale, not for usage in battle; it's not like you can put the acid back into the tank once it's been fired. There are too many failure points for me to hope to make something that would work, not when I have to assume Murphy's Law.” Gremach looked at me quizzically. I answered the question I knew he was about to ask. “Anything that can fail, will. So, blah blah blah, I'm not about to make, at best, a prototype weapon that even humans don't use professionally because of how dangerous and inhuman acid is. Hell, the majority of people have a negative view of using acid because of the fucking monsters that actually do use it.” Gremach was now staring at me, his confused expression broadcasting how little he understood about what I said.

Amelia looked up from her book as the silence hung in the air for a moment. “He's saying it's not a good idea to rely on acid as ammo.” Amelia provided. “It's dangerous, even when properly contained, let alone contained under the pressure currently being used in the cauldron. There's not really a way to keep it going where it needs to go, not with the tech you guys have at least.”

Gremach was silent for a minute then nodded hesitantly. “If you speak so certainly of this, I cannot find a reason to question you. However, I do question why you do not merely create the metal spitting devices that Almar has. I have heard it said that sometimes the only way of besting fire is with more fire.”

I nodded as I began rubbing my head. “Well, there's only one small problem with that. I have no idea how to make black powder, let alone basic gunpowder. I know the method in which to prime and load a cannon and even how to manufacture cannonballs, but that's all useless if I don't have the fuel for the fire. And unfortunately, surprise surprise, the Metallurgy and Materials books don't have anything explosive in their pages. They made a passing mention of gunpowder in the section on sulfur, but it's far from useful in making said powder. I guess America during the Cold War didn't want a how-to guide for explosives in the wild.”

Gremach shrugged as he gestured towards the door. “What of the general you captured? Could he give you some insight?”

I shook my head as I let out another sigh. “He's just a general. At best he knows how dangerous the powder is. At worst he knows nothing. Just because he commands the weapons doesn't mean he knows how to make them. The only thing he'd know is how many Almar has and if he has any other human weapons at Nione. Beyond that, I might as well be asking a cat about Quantum physics.” Gremach gave me a confused look and seemed about to ask a question when I cut him off. “It's something that even us humans have trouble with. I don't even know where to begin if I tried to explain it.” Gremach paused he seemed to consider my answer.

Meanwhile, it was Amelia's turn to ask a question. “That information might be useful sooner rather than later. It might be a good idea to go visit him now. You don't know how much longer the orcs will keep him.”

I let out a small laugh as I shook my head. “What are they going to do, release him? I doubt they would be that merciful.”

Amelia nodded, her expression unchanged by my confidence. “Yeah, but an execution is always an option.”

My face went slack as the realization dawned on me. Execution would be a bad idea. Not because it would get rid of him, but because he could give us some useful information. “I think I'm going to go see our elven friend,” I said standing up and stretching.

Amelia nodded as she gestured towards the door. “You go and do that.” I nodded as I started walking, pausing as I noticed the shawl laying on the table. An idea materialized in my head and I walked over. I was going to have some fun.

Vulen

This was not how a general was supposed to end. I was supposed to be resting comfortably at home, surrounded by my family, and being honored for the victories I had won, not rotting in the primitive prisons of primitive people. I shook my head and gritted my teeth as I again strained against the bonds tying my hands together. I felt a drop of blood fall from the gash in my head. “Almar would not abandon me. It is only a matter of time before the armies arrive for me. I merely need to wait out this nightmare.” I let out an exhausted groan as I relaxed and a bead of sweat dripped from my head. I was starting to lose track of the days. The iron shackles binding my wrists were abrasive and rough, tearing at the skin like a mouse would tear at the earth. My hair no longer looked prim and proper, but a jumbled mess of sweat and blood that would make my parents weep. I panted as the last of my energies drained from my body. “Sarding FEXT! I will have my revenge on that degenerate outsider. I swear it.” My thoughts were interrupted as the door to my cell was pushed open, allowing a new shadow to loom over me, the unmistakable shadow of an orc. I let out a small laugh as I kept my eyes lowered on the shadow; no point in looking such foul creatures in the face. “Has there been a development? I do not normally receive visitors so late. I can only imagine another army is at the gates, demanding my return.”

The voice that replied brought back harsh memories of insubordination. “No, just someone you really pissed off.” My head shot up to gaze angrily at the figure in the doorway, his pale white skin contradicting the spotted shawl he wore. His chin was covered in a sparse layer of hair and his mismatched eyes stared at me with distaste. His forearms seemed to bulge out more than when I'd last seen him, each muscle outlined as they flexed and moved beneath his skin. The outsider took a few steps into my cell and crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at me.

I snarled at him as he still loomed over me. “What do you want?” I growled angrily. “Did you somehow convince those monsters to trust you to be alone with me? That must have taken some time. Otherwise, you would have come here sooner. So what did the little outsider promise? More of your witchcraft?”

The outsider stared at me for a minute before replying, but he ignored the other questions and merely answered the first. “I want to know everything you know about what Almar has. You can start with the cannons and don't leave anything out.”

I stared at him in disbelief, then burst into raucous laughter. “Yo-he-u exp-he-ct me to just tell you everything? To tell you anything? I am loyal to Almar and Almar only. I can neither be swayed nor intimidated by them, let alone the repugnant likes of you.” I punctuated the retort by gathering what little spittle I could muster and launching it at his face. It landed with a wet splat and the outsider scowled at the new mark on his cheek.

He glowered at me as he slowly reached up and wiped the damp spoke away. “Huh, I was wrong. You can make me even angrier.” He then stood and continued to stare down at me. “There are many things I want to say to you. Most would either insult you to no end or require so much cultural or scientific knowledge you wouldn't understand a damn thing I said. But I think I'm going to give you a little surprise and actually thank you.” I stared up at him, confused. As if the outsider was able to read my mind, he answered my question. “That's right. I'm going to thank you. Because without you and your moronic decisions, I wouldn't have the opportunities I have now. I wouldn't have a title that allows me to freely move about the city. I wouldn't be learning at the local Institute for the magical arts. and I certainly wouldn't be setting out to repair the relations of the various tribes on this continent. In a way, you're going to be the epicenter of every positive thing that I'm about to create. All of which will be directed towards the sole purpose of eradicating Adympia, the country that you benefited from for so long. It's almost poetic; the one that dedicated himself to supporting the country ultimately lead to its downfall.”

I shook my head and started to pull at my chains again.“Impossible. The orcs would not do such a thing. They would rather die than accept an outsider as their own.” The outsider grinned and let out a small laugh as he turned on the spot, reaching up to his shawl as he did so. He pulled the spotted fur away to reveal a patch of burnt skin, marked in the way that Orc Champions are marked, burnt in the shape of a butterfly. I stared in disbelief at the emblem. I would almost call it beautiful, were it not for the canvas it was painted on and what it represented. I growled in anger and pulled harder. “Impossible. The orcs would never trust an outsider with such a title.”

The outsider shrugged as he turned back and resituated the shawl. “Then maybe you just hate me more than the orcs do.” He replied coldly, turning back to me. “They’ve certainly set a few personal records, but none of them make me revile in disgust like you do. From the moment you walked into the Great Hall and I learned of the man you call master, I’ve wanted to end you. I wish it had been me that did it, but I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth. I’ll have to kind Kagan at some point and thank him for saving my life. Maybe he’d like a nice outsider weapon.”

I pulled at my chain desperately, hoping they’d break. “You Cannot!” I shouted. “They Would Destroy My Home And Wreak Havoc Across The Land!”

The outsider let out a disgruntled huff as he finally stood, his full height towering over me. “Then I suppose that will be on your conscious, general.” He said coldly. With that, he turned and strode out of my cell, closing the door behind him with a sharp bang and leaving me to my roars of anger, anger against his threat to Admypia, against my legacy, against my family.

Dexter

I strode back through the hallways of the prison, the shawl trailing behind me like a miniature cape. After what I'd said to the elf I actually did feel a bit like a hero. I stopped in front of a large counter as I arrived back at the entrance. Guards lined each of the doorways from the room I now stood in. I ignored all of them and turned to the warden behind the counter, a large orc whose green eyes seemed to scrutinize every detail of me. I jabbed a finger behind me as I gave a command. “Make sure he stays alive. He might not be cooperating now, but I will have the information he holds, one way or another.”

The orc nodded as he responded in a gruff voice. “Yes, Champion.” I nodded as I turned and strode the rest of the way out of the prison, making my way back to the barn as I felt the endorphins coursing through me. “Champion . . . I could get used to treatment like that.”