"That damn bastard killed six of us and almost ended Pulung's life!"

"Defending the human who had killed Plung, no less!"

"What are we gonna do about this?! There's no other way, he must be killed in this instant! Cut his arms off and then his head, see if he likes it when it's done to him!"

"Set him on fire, set him on fire!"

A heated argument was taking place in a cold room. With each slam of a fist on the central table, the bone weapons hanging from the walls would tremble. The words didn't stop raining one after the other, all of them condemning the acts of Thom Arburson on the last day. While the red hobgoblins were especially violent in this discussion, the others weren't much calmer. Except for Clung and Hlung, they were all yelling at each other without any kind of civil. Pulung had her sight lost in the distance while holding her arm.

The sheer act of having dared to cut off one of Pulung's arms was bad enough, but killing six of the black hobgoblins was something that shouldn't be permitted to an outsider. Everyone present knew that, but little of them were also considering Thom's critical role in the survival of the horde, and the power he held as the patron of the orcs.

Hlung and Clung looked at each other shortly. In that second, they understood each other's position: although perhaps with different intentions, the two leaders were not agreeing fully with the statements of their subordinates and their co-leaders. A coordinated sigh escaped their mouths, as if they shared their ideas. However, Clung took his eyes away and formed a slime below his fingers.

"I say we kill that bastard in his sleep!"

"Have you gone mad? That man's skin is like steel, and he rarely sleeps." Kulung bit on his lip. "If we want to do anything against him, we'd have to go head-on and have a plan. I'd say the only ones who would have an upper hand in this would be Slung and Zulung." He pointed at the two red hobgoblins sitting across the table. The two of them formed a smile. Before they could get any more carried away, the golden hobgoblin interrupted with a scoff.

"Brothers, it seems like you're forgetting something." Hlung said. "That man is the one who's been producing 80% of our food supply for the past few months. Without him, the horde would die. If you're really planning on facing him, take into account first that killing that man will be counted as suicide from your part, and the rest of the horde will take your part of the resources."

"Hmph..." Slung clenched his jaw with a grimace. "What kind of pride is there in letting a human determine our life and death? The only thing he's good for is farming, so I'll strike him in the spot!"

"You're ignoring the main issue again..." Hlung replied with a tired gaze.

"Oh, but Hlung, don't discard their ideas so quickly like this." Clung suddenly stood up from his chair with a radiant smile.

"Clung?! I thought you'd be more rational than this!"

"Wait, I'm not saying we should kill him. That man is a really great asset, after all. Actually, I would like to propose something way better than getting rid of him."

"And that would be?"

"Enslaving him." Clung opened his eyes and made an arch with his hands. "We force him to stay. The conditions would be simple. If he loses a duel against us, he doesn't have the right to believe himself more than any of us."

"How would you enforce that?" Hlung frowned with preoccupation.

"This." Clung smiled and pulled a crude iron choker, which shone for a short second as he tilted it between his fingers. "It's an enchanted collar. If he agrees to the duel and loses, then he will be entrapped by it. He won't be allowed to say no to any orders we give."

He passed it to Hlung. The man didn't know whether to believe him or not about the nature of the enchantment, but thanks to his constant consumption of the golden herb he could perfectly feel the magic emanating from the accessory. There was no doubt that it was enchanted, at least of that he was sure. He couldn't think of a reason why Clung would lie under such circumstances either. It wouldn't benefit him if Thom Arburson left the horde with his humans by the side.

"It's enchanted alright." Hlung threw it on the table. "Then we'd only need someone who could face him."

"Leave that to us." Slung stood up and crossed his bulky, red arms. A metallic crimson blade was hanging from his back, glimmering with that faint ethereal color characteristic to enchanted weapons. There were no objections as he proclaimed himself to be the fittest. Only looks of content and expectancy were thrown around.

Clung, on his side, couldn't help but smile. "I'll be the one to inform him, then. The duel will probably take place in my area, in the plaza where Pulung was attacked. I hope we see great results, and hopefully..." He placed his hand over his mouth again. "We'll be able to attack the city of Pontya in the coming week."

A mile away from the central meeting point, Thom Arburson had just regained the ability to sit on the surface of his bedroll.

He pushed his fingers into his eyes with the intention to rub the exhaustion away, to let himself feel that he was indeed awake. Blurry things began to become sharper as the seconds passed, not only in his vision, but also his gut. Fires of aura began to pop up, and the one in front of him had become quite clear.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Valta sitting in front of him, tapping her fingernails on the wooden floor with a cold face. He was about to say good morning, ask her what happened, when he remembered. Her anxious taps, the rhythmic movement of her legs, and the face of someone who hasn't seen the sun in a century. He knew what happened. That woman was an addict to coffee.

That thought prompted a smile on him. Valta seemed to finally notice he was awake, and raised her sight. Relief was painted all across her aura's movement—not her expression— but the fluttering of anxiousness and abstinence remained strong.

"Morning." Thom tried to stand up, but the woman pulled him down. He sat back with a baffled expression, waiting for an answer. She didn't give back a greeting.

"A day."

Thom's eyes opened a little. "Did I really sleep that much...?"

Valta nodded in response. Then, she pointed him towards the window. The sun was already invisible, hovering above their heads. A day since he decided to take a break from his farming duties? He remembered what had happened before he took that decision, and guilt assaulted him with reason. He lowered his gaze, but Valta lifted his chin with her hand.

"You saved me."

"I killed six people."

"They were monsters."

Thom nodded. He couldn't avoid remembering that when he saw that scene, he forgot the hobgoblins' intelligent nature. At that moment, cutting their heads off didn't feel any different from beheading a pig. If he delved deeper into his heart and did some scrutiny, he could actually remember how good it felt to be in control of the situation. The feeling of his soul recovering the parts he had given to those monsters was quite fulfilling.

He shook that off his head. At the moment, the situation had called for it. Now, he couldn't let himself go. They were still people, and he had given them that quality. He wouldn't back down on his word. Thom couldn't forget what lies he'd told the crystal girl that day above the hills.

"Where's Suu?" Thom looked around. "I could swear she was injured somewhat.

"The orcs. With the other girls."

"She must still be recovering... It should be alright if Dajkavan helps her."

Valta nodded. She stood up from the ground and went to fetch something to eat from the bowl on the table. It was not more than leaves and a few roots, but they were welcomed. She sat back down and put the bowl in the center, pushing back her hair.

"It's pretty long." He said, picking up some leaves and taking them to his mouth. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Hm." She shook her head. "Yours is too."

Valta put her hand close to Thom's head, and grabbed a hair from his mane. She pulled it quickly, to what Thom responded with a low grunt. She put it against light, showing a pure white hair.

Thom's mouth twisted downward. "Man... All this work is getting me old..."

"I got a few more while you slept."

"Hey, hey. Don't be pulling hairs off my head like that. I prefer a white head than being bald."

"Prefer?" Valta broke a potato-looking root in half and chewed it for a second. "White hair is considered beautiful in many parts of the continent. From royalty, even."

"Then why are you pulling them off...?" Thom bitterly smiled. "Well, it doesn't matter. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Umu." She nodded. "You can't die on me so quick."

The door to the house suddenly sounded. It was three solid knocks, and then a youthful voice that announced themselves proudly. Thom already knew who it was, and the present situation definitely was not the best to introduce him to Valta. As he was standing up to get the door, he thought that there was actually no proper situation to introduce them. Much less after what had happened not long ago.

As he opened the door, a smiling hobgoblin appeared on the other side. He bowed slightly while holding himself with a wretched wooden staff, and then walked inside the house as if he didn't need an invitation. Valta seemed wary of him from a distance, which was the expected reaction.

"Clung..." Thom sighed. "I know I shouldn't have done what I did."

"It's fine." Clung chuckled with his back turned. "The others and I have come to an agreement. A way to solve this, that is."

"Hm?"

Clung didn't hesitate or bother himself with introductions. He pulled the choker from his robes and threw it at Thom. The man caught it and glanced at it with a confused expression, incapable of feeling the magic emanating off of it. Valta walked to his side and squinted at the object with skepticism.

"You've been proposed a duel. Put that on, if you lose, you'll become a slave to the horde. You won't be allowed to ever leave."

Valta's eyebrows twitched slightly to that statement as she put a foot forward. "Hold it."

"Hmm? I guess I should have avoided speaking your language around her. The madam who killed Plung, is it?"

"There's no reason for him to accept."

"Why not?" Clung innocently tilted his head. "This is something I made up with the only intention to save his life. If he denies the duel, then he'll just be killed like a pig before you can even leave. I'm trying to keep Lord Thom Arburson alive, not hinder him. If you cannot understand that, please step aside."

"Hmph." Valta took a fighting stance, making the black hobgoblin nervously step back.

"Ha..." Thom sighed, balancing the choker on his index finger. "This is so obviously a trap of sorts that it hurts. If you're gonna swindle a swindler at least make an effort. I know you're smarter than this, Clung. It bothers me that you haven't considered the existence of the orcs into that stupid threat, too."

"I'm being honest here, I swear." He showed his fingers with a smile. "This is for your own good. If you win, you'll get the respect of the horde. Your popularity went up like crazy after getting the crystal girl home, so why not boost it up a little more? Now that you've frightened the soul out of so many of us..."

"Tch." Thom clicked his tongue. This time, it was even more obvious what he was trying to do. However, he couldn't let it pass this time either. If he won, then it wouldn't be just a matter of respect. He'd assert his dominance over the ruling class by using the edge of his sword, and if he managed to win, he would not only get pardoned, but the horde would see him as more than a talker and a farmer.

"You can prepare, of course." Clung said. "Your farming duties can wait. We are not exactly starv—"

"There's no need." Thom opened the choker and put it around his neck. With a crisp clacker, it closed around his throat and sealed away with a faint glow. Thom's body was covered by a dim light for a short second, and then it disappeared.

"Thom?" Valta turned with concern in her eyes. Clung, on the other hand, seemed happier.

"The farm can't wait, Clung." Thom's eyes were filled with a steely stubbornness that came from within. "It can never wait. I have to work, so I'll work. If I don't, you starve. And if you all die, then there will be no one to kiss my boot when I sweep the ground with you."

"Ohoho..." Clung nervously laughed. "Did something good happen lately?"

Thom flashed in front of Clung and slammed him against the wall. The hobgoblin let go of his staff as he reached to grab the man's arm, but the difference in strength was abysmal. He could barely move his chest to breath, much less he could pull Thom's hand away from him.

"You're taking the wrong decisions, Clung." Thom put his face closer to the monster, his aura spilling through every pore. "You all think you can take the farm boy and do whatever you want with him because you saved my ass from that prison, because you feel like I'm starved for your damn attention and I need you, when you can't even tell the difference between your own fingers and a root. If you think I'm doing any of this because I fear you and not because I pity you and your miserable crowd of rats trying to survive while scavenging for a pig's shit to eat, then you're wrong. Not you, nor any of the others can boss me around, and I can leave this place whenever the fuck I want. I'm here because you need me. You're alive thanks to me. You'd be nothing if I wasn't here. Not the other way around. Are you understanding anything of what I'm saying, Clung?! Do you get where I'm coming from, Clung?!"

The black hobgoblin hurriedly nodded and tightened his grip around Thom's arm. "I... I can't breathe...!"

Slam!

Thom threw him against the ground and adjusted the choker around his neck as the monster coughed and searched for some air. The black-haired man sneered. "I hope you remember who I am next time. I'm not going to prove anything but the fact that I'd do better as a ruler than any of you lowlifes. You were the ones to offend me by placing a hand on that woman over there, not me. Fuck off, Clung."

The hobgoblin picked up his staff and stumbled towards the door, where he turned around with his hand on the pommel. A smile was on his broken face, as he said: "T-The duel will be tomorrow, at the central plaza of this area. It will be you alone. You, you can't bring anyone else." He closed the door as if in a hurry, disappearing from stage.

"Sigh..."

Thom pulled back the few unkempt hairs from his head, and blew hot air out of his lungs. Valta looked at him with the same face as always. Her unsurprised expression froze on Thom's vision as she turned, folding her arms to show more seriousness than her face could.

"Trying to impress me?"

Thom was taken aback, but didn't falter. He smiled in return, "Did it work?"

"If you win, it might." She nodded. "Will you really fight?"

"Yeah... I'll have to ask Suu for some training. I haven't used a sword in a while." He closed his eyes and pinched his lower lip as if suddenly noticing his mistake. He wasn't sure how many hobs he would have to face, or which of them would fight him. If by any chance it happened to be any of the magic casters against him, he wasn't sure he could win. His heart suddenly dropped and bounced back as if pending by a string. Had he been too impulsive yet again?

"Arrogance isn't always bad." Valta suddenly grabbed the man's hand. "But you've got to back it up."

"Will you let me be an asshole if I earn it?" He couldn't help but feel sorry for how he'd been acting lately.

"You mentioned something about your dream being... To become a king." She neared him quickly. "It's a very childish dream."

"Don't tell me that..." The man looked away in embarrassment.

"It's fine." She gripped his hand tighter. "If you have the means... then dream as much as you want."

Thom opened his eyes slightly. His heart had returned to its place, but now had begun to race as he gazed at Valta's serious expression. He seized her up once and then thought about her words again. As she let go of his hand and walked away, something sparkled inside of him. An idea he had suppressed for a long time suddenly became the only way out of his uncertainty. Strange to restraint, and suffocated by his situation, Thom let go of his last contradictory effort. He pushed back his forced recreation of an inhuman heart as the antithesis became necessity. He clenched his fist tightly.

"I can't look at Miel unless I climb higher than this." He frowned. "... Let's stop skipping steps."