“Relegated to the Northern Wastelands or in scattered tribes across Cyndralia, most orc tribes still remain outcasts to society as a whole and remain despised to this day. Whether their raiding and brutal combat methods are a result of their innate large and muscular physiology triggering biological responses, or the result of humanity and ‘civilised’ races pushing them to the fringes we will never know. What we do know is that for generations their tribes have been trapped in cycles of violence, and as we have forgotten why we pushed them away, so too have they forgotten why they must continue to kill, loot, fight and never reach the civilised lands.”

- Gallius Segosa, Arterian Academy of History, “Orcish Culture and the Cyndralian Order” Chapter 2: Liberation Wars and Forceful Exile

Weapon racks and armour stands aplenty lay empty as they entered the first floor. They found themselves inside what looked to be the communal kitchen or gathering ground with pots and pans hanging about as a small table took up the center of the room. Beyond the door behind, three other doors led elsewhere, one up to the second floor, another at the opposite end of the kitchen and one more that acted as the proper entrance into the building. A thick scent of smoke and ash wafted from the stove and evidently, whatever they were cooking was left behind in their panic to find the knight. The same knight who gleefully picked up a meat cleaver from the counter with his free hand and began ascending the stairs much to Sophie’s chagrin and worry.

Ignoring him she walked over and tried the handle of the door on the opposite end, pushing it open and into the sleeping quarters or left wing of the house. The corridor with doors on each side formed the shorter side of the L shaped house, personal rooms by her account and with any luck answers could be found within them.

Horror wracked her form as she pushed open the first door, makeshift double bunk beds and a miscellaneous array of messy belongings tainted with flecks of dried blood awaited her. Horrifying. She thought of the unhygienic and cramped nature of this small stone room and remembered the ordeals of dealing with such arrangements back in the Rosengart duchy when she first started. Rummaging through their belongings she found basic travel supplies including rations, clothes and some other vanity items. Though she considered changing her muddy clothes as she only now sheepishly noticed the footprints she left behind, she didn’t know if cultist robes are somehow magically infused and thought better of it, though she did help herself to a few coins.

A small thud echoed through the floorboards from above and she cursed the stupid knight before moving to the second room. This time only one double bunk but again, the room remained quite spartan in nature and she moved on. The third door on the left opened into a toilet and she was surprised how well the cultists maintained it. Fair enough, hygiene is important. Backing out she was about to check the other side of the hall when another loud thud slammed into the floorboards above, sending her jumping at the unexpected intrusion. Shit, gotta hurry up.

Kicking open the next door she almost retched at the awful sight in front of her. In what appeared to be a small supply closet covered in a sea of red were what she assumed were five bodies. Their carcasses stripped of most organs as heads hung limply without eyes and limbs dangled haphazardly in an unceremonious pile. Countless cuts and chops were clearly the cause of their demise as the victims lay almost like butchered cattle, their ribs pried open with force as shattered bone remained caked in dried viscera. Three adult and two child sized corpses, parents, brother, young sister and brother all lay in the family sized heap. Sophie felt sick to her stomach but still stepped inside, the revulsion almost overcoming her completely.

The youngest was but a child yet upon closer inspection she found the same symbol carved onto their lifeless foreheads, a symbol that scrambled her memories as she felt an ominous sense of familiarity at the sight of it, some strange avian looking thing. Judging by the dried brown red coating their bodies and rooms but with a lack of carrion eaters crawling across their bodies she suspected some necromantic magicks having been cast. At that thought she could at least confirm the presence of the cult, the same symbol as back at the barrows and when I first found Riza. By the Gods, please tell me this isn’t what happened to her. Shuddering at the thought, Sophie shut the door behind her and opened the next room, giving the warehouse-like storage a cursory glance before moving on. Shit, the knight’s probably dead by now but at least I think I know where the real Hamils are.

Opening the last door she found two larger beds, a bookshelf, and unceremoniously laid across the room’s tea table were severely freshly skinned rabbit pelts. Glancing at the pelts and furs scattered around the beds she had a good inkling that this was perhaps where the orcs housed themselves. Filthy animals. With a growl of disappointment she backed away and rushed upstairs, her stomach filled with unease as she pushed open the second floor door.

Just beyond lay another series of doors but also the sources of the thuds. In the middle of the hallway, an older looking gentleman, likely the raspy voiced man, lay bleeding from his throat. Beyond him a door also lay flat on the ground, the bits of wood and metal hinges having been completely thrown off with incredible force. The culprit being the orc wordlessly pummelling away at the ever weakening form of the knight. Hesitantly, Sophie decided to move forward and as she did, the wooden floorboards creaked, the same time a sickening crack reverberated from where the orc and knight was.

The green monster evidently wasn’t done with the poor man and threw him through a doorway, heading after his victim as they left Sophie undiscovered. Seizing her moment she quietly snuck herself into the first doorless room and to her surprise found a mostly empty room with a series of slightly larger than dog sized cages with people within them. Their eyes all landed upon her with a hatred at her approach but soon changed to ones of curiosity before flipping back to a different kind of hatred or confusion.

“So the druids did heed our calls.” A grizzled looking man from cage one hissed, his attire of torn blue and gold puffy fabrics signified some sort of nobility.

“Quiet, regardless we are thankful, fair aelf.” A younger man, not much older than herself with a pretty face whispered from the back. Fancy shirt, pants, relatively unharmed, probably the prince.

Silently, a third man watched her from the side, relatively plain and stripped of whatever uniform he had and left in rags and torn pants. Another bodyguard or knight most likely, could buy some time.

“Hey what are you doing? Where are you going?” The first man asked rudely.

“Are you not here to aid us after all?” Asked the second.

Dashing back out to the hallway, she quickly rummaged through the dying man’s belt and grabbed a keyring before dashing back inside and trying every key she could on the third man’s cage.

“Hey!? If this is a rescue your priority should be the prince!” The first man hissed.

Ignoring him she kept turning the keys until finally a click was heard and she sagged back in relief before unclasping the lock. The third man wordlessly pushed the door open and strode out of his cage, now standing almost double her height as she still knelt in front of the cage. He blinked for a moment before turning his attention to her, Sophie gulped nervously and held her knife out to him and he seemed to understand.

Grabbing the small blade he massaged his wrists and shook off what sedentary aches his body face as he turned towards the doorway, sparing a worried glance at his prince.

“My liege, please don’t fret, I shall not be taken by surprise again.” He muttered without even acknowledging her.

The prince nodded whilst the other noble continued to glare at her. Disgusted perhaps, by how frail she seemed and how she freed a prisoner just to buy herself time. But Sophie knew she stood no chance, and despite the thin veneer of professionalism she displayed, her nerves were on the edge of revolt and the frightful trembling her body felt only continued to grow as the night drew on.

What the hells have I gotten myself into? Morea Goddess of Shadow please shield my path with your blessings, she murmured in her head as she crawled over the angry noble’s cage and began trying the keys. All the while he continued glaring at her and despite the mounting pressure another of the keys clicked satisfyingly and she wasted no time crawling away from the unpleasantness.

“Hey! Hey!” The man hissed as he now angrily opened his lock and cage by himself.

Princes, murders, a cult, rituals, what the hells. I just wanted to get to Arteria. Repeating the process on the third lock she managed to hear a small click from the lock and finally allowed herself a small sigh of relief as the last of the prisoners were released. Her joy did not last long however as memories of her failures resurfaced. Riza’s team, the prisoners at the barrow and all their sickening screams of fear. She shivered until a rough but firm hand landed on her shoulder and she instinctively froze.

“You have my thanks, friend of the druids, now take us to your entourage and let us away from this foul place.” The princeling spoke softly at her.

Sophie looked up and met the man’s eyes as his own widened in surprise at the sight of hers. That’s right, prince, stare more at the freak. She nodded begrudgingly to break the awkward eye contact but snuck in a glance of her own. Despite the bruises and scrapes, his angular chin, kind golden brown eyes, thin lips and well shaved baby-like yet still masculine face reminded her of Frederick in a sense. Minus the eyes, though I’m sure Eva wouldn’t mind, she chuckled to herself at the thought of the two lovebirds together before realising that the others looked at her for instruction.

There’s a prince and a noble, why look at me, she whined before repeating the same song and dance with the first luckless knight. Pointing to herself she sucked in a breath and explained the plain truth to the soon to be disappointed trio, “Adventurer, no help with me.” She said.

On some level she greatly enjoyed how even the haughty expression of the nobleman despaired at her words. How crestfallen the trio became as she revealed the truth. Yet on other hand she realised that this meant no one was there to stop the other cultists from returning.

As if on cue, just before the irate noble was able to berate her, the orc appeared from around the doorway and in a surprisingly inept display of orcish skill, looked confused as the surviving knight viciously plunged the dagger into his eye. Howling in pain, the orc’s meaty green fist swung in response and sent the knight flying back, smacking him against the noble’s cage with a thud and leaving the man winded and in pain. The orc meanwhile clawed desperately at its own eye, ripping his right eye out with the dagger and glared at the now freed prisoners as blood spurted out of his eye socket.

“Grrawr!” It loosed a guttural roar and charged into the room.

The trio recovered quickly enough and tried their best to fight it unarmed. The noble and prince took turns throwing punches to distract the orc whilst the knight searched for another weapon before Sophie slid the knife back to him. With renewed vigor the duo pinned the orc to the ground and as it attempted to growl she trembled as the knight brutally stabbed his way down the orc’s throat, each blow piercing lower and lower until the green creature gave off one last angry gurgle as a puddle of blood formed under it. The creature stared directly up at her as it died, hatred and pain etched onto its face at the one who had disrupted their carefully laid plans. Too frightened to look away, she watched as the orc seemed to shift its expression, his face becoming one of surprise just as the talons of death gripped his vicious soul.

It almost looked like it recognised as a comrade, she shuddered and drew her trembling hand close to her chest. She winced as her memory flashed back to the carnage at the barrow, the chaos and chaotic feeling that drove her forward but cost the lives of many that she sacrificed. Their violent and meaningless deaths as Riza had been taken regardless. She remembered their screams and pleas, the clashing of swords and shuddered once more before she collected herself. Focus, she drew in a deep breath, still gotta find out everything else they might know.

“So what does our saviour suggest we do?” The nobleman sneered accusingly at her.

She shrugged and pushed herself back up, her own form almost a head shorter than the noble and a full head shorter than the knight as they too regained their composure.

“But friend of the…adventurer…did perhaps Lady Kestrel send you to secure us? I can assure you we will not surrender to Edward even if the fair lady sent you to abduct us from these brigands.” The prince queried far more formally.

Almost like Frederick, heh, she allowed herself a chuckle much to their chagrin before she shook her head.

“Personal errand.” She stated matter of factly as if that would reassure the trio, “Go as you please.”

At that she watched the knight stiffen, finally turning to look at her properly with eyes filled with suspicion.

“What? Are we to expect you don’t simply have the lionhunters outside the premises to seize my liege? Are we to just trust you on your word?” He spoke menacingly in a low voice, pointing her own dagger against her.

A moment of tense silence passed between the two as Sophie nervously held her right hand still, her legs trying their best not to fidget as the knight relentlessly stared at her.

“Thegn Carodin, Duke Haurkr,” The princeling spoke and immediately the two turned to face him, “whether she lies or not matters not, we do have to escape and she did aid us even when she didn’t have to.” He looked apologetically at Sophie and she gave him a stiff nod in response.

“You’re too naive my liege, it’s how we were waylaid in the first place,” The noble, Duke Haurkr spoke, “She might’ve aided us out of necessity, after all we did take care of these…brigands ourselves, she even left us to fend for ourselves against that brute!” He spat at the orc’s corpse, the spittle landing with a tiny plop in the blood.

“Duke Haurkr is right my liege, there are too many different variables at stake and we cannot just…”

Whatever excuse or reason I have it’ll take too long to convince them and I don’t know when Markus and the others will be back. Glancing around she spotted her chance and took it. As the trio were distracted with the discussion, she burst past the knight and sidestepped the noble, their bodies turning to meet her as she managed to duck out into the hallway. Sprinting to the last door at the end of the second floor she had four keys left to try from the keyring. Medium lock, that leaves two keys, try left. She closed her eyes in anticipation and stuck the key in and turned just as the others raced into the hallway to look for her. A satisfying click earned her the briefest of relief as she quickly pulled open the door, yanking the keys with her, she slammed the door shut moments before the knight could reach her. His body rattled the door with a heavy.

“Hey the hells you think you’re doing!” He yelled angrily, his more calm demeanour shattered by her erratic behaviour.

“Open up in the name of the crown.” Duke Urien joined in.

“Go! You don’t have much time before they’re back.” She shouted back at them, and at once the banging on the door and commotion outside died down to a whisper.

Pressing her ear against the door she heard a few curses as the trio’s footsteps led away from the doorway. Downstairs they go, she allowed herself a momentary sigh of relief and looked around the room before jumping from fright as a chill ran down her spine.

Just looking at the size and style of this room she could tell it was likely where the master bedroom was. Where there used to be a double bed she saw the ritualistic bird shape scrawled in blood across the floor, sigils and mystic symbols dotting the perimeter. Lying in the center was the body of a young human woman, similar to the bodies below with her eyes plucked out and organs forcefully torn out. Unlike them however, Sophie could tell something was awfully wrong, the blood was too fresh, the liquids and viscera not yet dried and browned, this was recent.

Sophie slapped herself out of it and bowed respectfully to the corpse before whispering a small prayer. “May Astralis guide you in the darkness.”

Around the room the common elements of a bedroom in a farmstead remained relatively untouched, wardrobes, cabinets, a desk, chairs and even the end table remained despite the bed being removed. Reluctantly she began scrounging through the cabinets and drawers, looking for some form of a clue before she opened a drawer in the desk. Sheafs of paper and parchment with strange sigils and words scrawled across them sat atop a wrinkled gnarled book, the pages brittle and crinkly as she took one look back at the ritual and matched the horrific sight with an image within. There we go. Quickly stuffing all she could grab within her small pouch she suddenly heard footsteps coming toward her. They couldn’t possibly have decided to come back for me? The possibility was discarded as she noted something odd in the steps, they were heavy and deliberate, the cult!

She froze on the spot and waited as the footsteps echoed under the door, getting closer and closer with each breath she took. The slight pauses in between as it too stopped where she assumed the doorways were before the doorknob rattled slightly. With bated breath she watched as it turned this way and that as whoever was on the other side tried to twist it before she could hear the distinctive pressing of the key against the lock. Huddling up next to the desk, she rested her back on the wooden table and peaked over in anticipation. A soft click pierced through the silence and just as the door swung open and she could feel her body racing as she prepared for a scuffle.

To her surprise clangs and bangs echoed throughout the house and as Sophie hid behind the desk she could hear the figure take but one step in the room before the rapid tapping of boot on floor suggested it ran back downstairs. Now’s my chance.

Pausing for a moment to make sure she scrambled backup and quickly unclasped the latches on the room’s windows. Holding still just to process the sound of a skirmish in the kitchen with the distinctive clashing noise of blades and muffled shouts. I can’t just let the prince die can I? She felt herself tremble at the thought of leaving more people behind but pushed open the window anyways, the wind and rain sweeping into the new breach like an angry tide. Shielding her eyes from the rain she poked her head out the window and found herself above the main entryway to the house, freedom just a quick jump away.

No need to be a hero Sophie, you’ve done enough, she told herself, but her muscles refused to budge. No matter how much she tried to inch herself forward, her legs remained unmoving. Sophie screamed silently in frustration, clenching her fists in fury at her own stupidity as she turned back towards the hall.