Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

As she leads the Destined Hero over to the table so they can get down to brass tacks, Elsenthia’s heart has to be going a thousand beats a minute in her chest. Luckily, she doesn’t think she’s showing it overly much on her face. It wouldn’t do to expose just how nervous she was at the moment. She’d been anticipating a lot of things when she finally came face to face with the Destined Hero standing beside her now. And yet… none of those things had come to pass.
 
To hear her mother talk about it, Elsenthia was supposed to fall head over heels in lust with the half-orc from the moment she laid eyes on him. The Destined Hero was supposed to be her greatest weakness, or so Lisanna had essentially claimed. Could it be that the lessons in meditation her mother had had her drilling on for the past two months had actually been effective? Elsenthia didn’t FEEL much different from before they’d started, but it was possible that she honestly couldn’t tell until she was face to face with the Destined Hero. If it WAS the meditation lessons, the results certainly seemed to speak for themselves.
 
Yes, she was nervous around him. Yes, her heart was racing in his presence. But not out of some uncontrollable lust that demanded she beg him to fuck her right then and there like she’d been afraid of. Instead, everything she was feeling right now was from anticipating that reaction… along with some level of embarrassment over how their first interaction had gone of course.
 
When he’d knelt down before her, Elsenthia had felt a brief moment of satisfaction. A VERY brief moment of satisfaction, until she’d quickly realized how bad it would look if she LET him kneel before her here in this place. It would be one thing if they were back in the Capital. Specifically, if they were in the Royal Palace, in the throne room, and Elsenthia were crowned Queen.
 
Under those specific circumstances, with her sitting upon her throne and wearing her crown, the Destined Hero kneeling in deference to her might have been okay. It might have been acceptable at a bare minimum. But here in this place? Her Holiness had put Elsenthia in charge of the Crusade, and these five hundred brave men and women were ready and willing to fight the Orc Warband with her… but that didn’t mean much of anything at all if she disrespected one of their most IMPORTANT religious icons.
 
Because that was what Marcus was. The Destined Hero, for all that he was a half-orc, was very much an incredibly important figure in the Church’s eyes, and thus the eyes of the Paladins all around her. Upon realizing that, Elsenthia’s satisfaction had rapidly shifted into dread and she’d quickly made him stand up, to keep those in the tent from turning on her.
 
By all accounts, if the Hero wanted to, he could very well demand control of the Crusade and she would have no choice but to give it to him. Mostly because even if she didn’t give it to him, the majority of the Paladins would happily switch their primary loyalty from her to the Destined Hero at the drop of a hat.
 
Luckily… he didn’t seem inclined to take control. Kneeling to her, acting quite deferential to her… he might have Awakened as the Destined Hero, but Marcus was in fact an orphan raised in the Capital, wasn’t he? He wasn’t some Noble’s son, nor was he raised by the Church. He was barely a step above peasant, and he’d been thrust into the position of Destined Hero without any sort of true assistance.
 
… Though she had to admit, he DID look good in his armor. And that halberd of his… he held it with a confidence and surety that Elsenthia could respect. As far as appearances go, now that she wasn’t apparently falling in lust with him at the drop of a hat, Elsenthia found that she liked what she saw. So far… she didn’t think she would mind marrying him, if it came down to it like she and her mother thought it might. He seemed like a good man, at least as far as first impressions went.
 
In stark contrast, looking down at the battle map spread across the table in front of them, Elsenthia likes what she sees THERE a lot less. Lips thinning out, she gives Marcus a glance.
 
“As you can see, Sir Hero… we are up against rather poor odds.”
 
Slowly nodding at that, the half-orc’s eyes slide back and forth across the map and it quickly becomes obvious that he doesn’t REALLY know what he’s looking at. The Paladins in the room all exchange glances and shift from foot to foot, while Elsenthia bites her lower lip, waiting for the Hero to make some sort of attempt at saving face. She would happily support such an effort; she had no desire to humiliate or embarrass him. Indeed, it was never her intention to show him a map he couldn’t actually read or-
 
“I’m sorry, but I can’t read this. I can see that we’re outnumbered, but not by how much or what we’re up against. Do we have specifics? Please, if you can, tell it to me plainly.”
 
There’s a ripple of shock through the tent’s inhabitants at that. No one was expecting the Destined Hero to just… admit he wasn’t perfect or that he didn’t understand what he was looking at. Elsenthia is the quickest to recover, or perhaps the others are just letting her speak first, because she clears her throat and pipes up in no time.
 
“Ahem. Yes, Sir Hero. We know that in terms of numbers, they have us outnumbered around four to one. The last count by our scouts puts the Warband at about two thousand warriors strong. Our Crusade, meanwhile, is currently only five hundred paladins strong.”
 
Marcus slowly nods at that, still staring down at the map as he assimilates that information. Meanwhile, one of the older Paladins, a grizzled veteran, steps forward and clears his throat.
 
“Sir Hero. I am Paladin Bartholomew. While the Princess is correct about the numbers, I do not believe we are quite as disadvantaged as it might initially seem. Our weapons and armor put us head and shoulders over your average orc… to say nothing of our connection to the Most Holy Light. I would happily put any one of my Paladins against any four orcs and expect them to come out on top.”
 
Elsenthia tries not to bristle overly much as the grey-haired, bushy bearded Paladin once again says his piece. He’s never crossed the line into outright insubordination or disrespect, but ever since they’ve set up camp and begun receiving reports of the Warband’s numbers, Bartholomew has been quite… vocal about his belief that they have nothing to worry about. In his eyes, the Warband can’t possibly be an organized or disciplined fighting force. They’re ‘just orcs’, after all.
 
Luckily, she doesn’t have to speak up. Paladin Eric clears his throat and steps forward at that, taking up the mantle of opposition to his senior’s statement.
 
“While we are blessed by the Holy Light and armed and armored by the greatest Blacksmith in the entire Empire… we can’t discount their warriors. Every single one is Awakened with their own Job just like us, and their shamans fulfill a somewhat similar role to our clerics by bolstering and strengthening their troops.”
 
Bartholomew scoffs at that.
 
“Awakened they might be, but let us not compare their Jobs to ours, young Eric. There is a reason that the Paladin and Holy Priest Jobs have been cultivated by the Church of the Most Holy Light for over a thousand years. They are by far some of the strongest Jobs one can Awaken with, so long as one’s faith in the Light is strong. I would consider them second to none… save for the Destined Hero, of course.”
 
At that, Paladin Bartholomew gives Marcus a respectful nod. The half-orc, meanwhile, looks a little lost.
 
“… Can you tell me more about these shamans? There weren’t any with the raiders we fought back up North.”
 
That sends another ripple through the crowded tent, with Paladin Eric quickly asking what’s suddenly on all of their minds.
 
“Sir Hero? You fought orcs in the North?!”
 
Looking surprised that they’re all surprised, Marcus slowly nods.
 
“Uh… yes? It was in a border town Northwest of here. There were orc raiders all up and down the western border with the wildlands, from what we heard…”
 
There’s a pause at that, as glances are exchanged. No one was about to call the Destined Hero a liar, but at the same time… not even Elsenthia had heard about that. It was possible that the news just hadn’t reached the Capital yet, but that didn’t quite make sense. Unless the orcs raiding the Western Border had completely silenced the towns they were fighting in. Still, that this was the first they were hearing of this was… it spoke of enemy action. Beyond what they already knew they were facing.
 
Unfortunately, Elsenthia couldn’t let them get distracted at the moment. The Orc Warband drew closer by the day and they needed to be ready to stop them in their tracks or every settlement on the Southern Border would be destroyed.
 
“… No matter. The Warband must be our focus. Sir Hero… orc shamans are, in a way, akin to our priests and priestesses. However, they’re also very different. Rather than utilizing the Light to heal and bolster their comrades, they use nature itself, the cycle of life and death allowing them to perform certain mystical feats.”
 
Paladin Bartholomew steps in again here with another scoff.
 
“Not that their abilities are in any way comparable to ours, Sir Hero. No offense your Highness, but I doubt the shamans will prove to be that much trouble against our forces. You are overestimating them.”
 
Elsenthia bristles at that, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
 
“Am I, Sir Bartholomew? Because truth be told, I don’t think I am! In fact, I am inclined to believe that it is those back in the Capital who are underestimating what we’re facing! This is the first Orc Warband seen in hundreds of years! The orcs have declared war upon the Holy Empire. And we’ve been sent as some… some policing force against an army four times our size!”
 
Stiffening as Elsenthia raises her voice, Bartholomew’s nostrils flare and his bushy grey mustache wiggles in an offended fashion.
 
“You are still young, Princess. I have seen much in my many years of service to the Empire. And while I have not seen anything the likes of this Warband form in the several decades I have been a Paladin, I have full faith in her Holiness. Pope Serafina believes that we will be just fine with the forces we have. I do not think we should be doubting her in this instance.”
 
Invoking Serafina was a low blow. Elsenthia would never dare to claim that the Holy Pope was wrong… at least out loud. Deep down, she knew that Serafina wasn’t perfect. She certainly wasn’t infallible. She’d seen fit to send a Crusade’s worth of Paladins here to fight the Orc Warband, but Elsenthia likes to think that the Holy Pope would have sent more forces if she’d been aware of just how great the threat truly was.
 
The Orc Warbands of old were of course much, much larger than what they were facing now. In the histories that Elsenthia had been taught, their numbers were recorded in the tens of thousands. Those ancient Warbands had damn near brought the Holy Empire to its knees more than once, usually with a Dark Lord at their head. But that was a long time ago, obviously. The orcs were greatly diminished from their numbers hundreds of years ago, and it was clear that the concept of a ‘Warband’ had been seen as rather laughable back at the Capital.
 
And in comparison, two thousand warriors WAS laughable… but not when you considered some key facts. Like, for instance, the idea of the Holy Empire having its own Standing Army had become somewhat defunct in the past century. The Nobility had their own soldiers and guardsmen, certainly, but most of the Empire’s security was taken care of by the Church and their Paladins these days.
 
 If an ancient Orc Warband WERE to attack now, then the Holy Empire would be ill-suited to fend it off. But even this new, much smaller Orc Warband was a sizable threat. Elsenthia truly didn’t know for sure whether or not they could beat them, even WITH better weapons and gear.
 
Not to mention…
 
“I would never doubt her Holiness’ decisions, Sir Bartholomew. However, something else that Pope Serafina confided in me before giving me command of this Crusade was her belief that the Dark Lord might be leading this Warband from the shadows. After all, if the Dark General Roka-Ra had been capable of forming this Warband all on her own, why would she not have done so years ago?”
 
That shuts even Bartholomew up, the older Paladin falling silent in the face of that admittedly heavy information. Indeed, the entire tent has gone quiet as Elsenthia looks around, her eyes eventually falling on a grimacing Marcus. The Destined Hero doesn’t look thrilled at the mention of the Dark Lord. But then to be fair, Elsenthia can imagine it’s a duty that weighs heavily on him. Giving him a nod of understanding, the Crown Princess sweeps her gaze back across the tent’s inhabitants once more before continuing on.
 
“If the Dark Lord truly is here, then the Destined Hero will not be able to help us against the Warband. He will have his duty, and we will have ours. As such, we must prepare for the eventuality that we will NOT have the Hero at our side. Does anyone have any ideas for tactics that will allow us to overcome the advantage in numbers that the orcs have on us?”
 
There’s a beat of silence, and then a response comes from the most unlikely source in the entire tent.
 
“I can slip behind their lines and sabotage the Warband.”
 
Every eye in the tent goes to the unassuming Beastkin in their midst. Elsenthia had been aware of the diminutive creature… how could she not be? In a tent filled with Paladins and Clerics, with her and the Destined Hero, the Beastkin Thief that the Church had assigned to Marcus’ party was something that stuck out as a sore thumb. However, she’d been easy enough to ignore when she was quiet. Now though, she’d spoken up.
 
The reactions in the tent are mixed. There are some, like Paladin Eric, who are interested even if they’re slightly… disgusted by the Thief’s very presence. Others, such as Paladin Bartholomew, are more than slightly disgusted. The old man’s nose wrinkles as though he’s smelt something foul… and Elsenthia senses that only the Thief’s status as a member of the Hero’s Party keeps him from saying something, or perhaps even striking her across the face for daring to speak.
 
Meanwhile, Priestess Angelina looks happy that the Beastkin has spoken up… delighted, even. Marcus on the other hand is surprised… and worried.
 
“Are you sure Eris? It won’t be easy. In fact, it’s probably going to be quite dangerous.”
 
Elsenthia isn’t sure what it says about the Destined Hero’s character that he seems concerned for a Thief. Everyone knew those with the Thief Job were… well, tainted. For you to Awaken with the Thief Job in the first place meant you’d spent a good portion of your early life stealing from others. You were effectively a criminal already if you Awakened with a Job like that.
 
Still, Elsenthia couldn’t say what role ‘Eris’ had played in Marcus’ party so far. For all she knew, the Beastkin Thief had been quite the boon to the Destined Hero’s efforts so far.
 
Indeed, despite her collar and shackles, Eris straightens up, looking at Marcus and giving a stoic nod.
 
“I’m sure. I can handle it. I’ll even the odds, Master.”
 
Marcus grimaces. For Elsenthia, it’s incredibly obvious that he grimaces because he hates the title of Master. She’s a little surprised at how easily she’s able to intuit that after only knowing him for a short amount of time. But it makes sense. He’s not treating Eris like she’s a slave, but rather a valuable member of his party. For others in the tent however, the grimace is taken as a sign that his faith in his slave is not unshakeable. Others… like Sir Bartholomew.
 
“Are you sure about this one, Sir Hero? Can we count on her?”
 
For the first time since arriving, the Destined Hero grows angry. Looking at Paladin Bartholomew with a distinct gleam in his eye, Marcus glares the older man down while a palpable chill fills the air.
 
“I have full faith in Eris’ abilities, Sir Bartholomew. If she thinks she can do it, then she can do it. That said… we can’t rely on her efforts alone. So maybe we should put our heads together and come up with some other ways to use what we have at our disposal to even the odds even further.”
 
Elsenthia’s opinion of the Destined Hero rises another notch as he so effectively admonishes Bartholomew and gets them back on track. From there, the war council continues with ideas of all sorts being bandied about. Still, the Princess can’t help but feel better now that the Destined Hero is here and she’s not falling all over herself to beg him to fuck her.
 
Honestly, she didn’t know what her mother was talking about. She, at least, didn’t feel any sudden desire to be plowed silly by Marcus. He was a good sort, and handsome to boot… but they had a war to win and little time to focus on such frivolous things. For now, anyways…

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