Orc Lord

“It’s all in there as usual.”

The beastperson shadow and spy for the Orc Lord in the human Andorin Kingdom, Inari, accepted the pouch his lord offered him respectfully with both hands. This was the third time he was secretly transporting resources from Babylon to Andorin. It was a precious weekly opportunity for him to see his master in all of her splendor.

Orc Lord Vyra was tall and proud. She wore intricate Aurelian armor even when she was just seated upon her throne. The magical gold-colored metal was as effective as mythril for physical defense, and half as magically resistant as orichalcum. It was shaped in a way that it integrated easily with her silfela silk dress and elegant gold crown. Her earthen skin tone made the normally cheap grass fibers look quite classy. No, it was a classy material, aside from its hydrophobic properties that meant it couldn’t be dyed.

With her green dress, golden armor, jeweled crown, and blood red hair, she was like a flower that grew on the battlefield. These were the sorts of thoughts Inari had as he gazed upon his master in reverence.

Lord Vyra pursed her lips. “The loyalty instilled by my law is almost disturbingly dominating,” she muttered. “Anyway, how’s the situation in Andorin?”

“My Lord, they have begun production of weapons and armors with the materials you have given them. More blacksmiths are relocating to the capital, and it’s only a matter of time before the neighboring countries notice. Perhaps they already have. The palace staff have already been informed of the coverup story King Andorin decided on. In other news, one of their Royal nights has applied for an extended leave, supposedly to tend to a sick family member. It’s the same knight that you are acquainted with: Knight Sartiella.”

“Probably helping her brother adjust to his new situation. Very good. Have there been any other developments?”

“One more thing, my lord. King Andorin is rather stressed because your motives are unclear to him. I admit, I don’t understand it either. Why are you helping a human kingdom so much? Even knowing that this sudden boost in industry is likely to be taken as a threat by their neighbors, it is still an incredible advantage if they can hold onto it.”

“Like I said, it’s just a personal whim.” She sighed. “I want spices, I need war, and I'm fond of humans. Did you bring the documents I asked for?”

“Yes my lord.”

The shadow passed over the bag of spices she was owed in exchange for the rare magical metals. Inside along with them were documents detailing the royal family of Andorin.

“Oh? There are even portraits here. How did you manage to take these?”

“The palace displays only the most recent portraits of the king and his three princes. The others are simply stored away. These are about a year out of date, my lord.”

“I see.”

Vyra curiously removed the four portraits and peered at them one by one.

“There are no royal women?”

“King Andorin’s wife has passed, lost due to complications during the third prince's birth. The eldest prince is engaged to the daughter of a duchess, but the second and third princes have no such arrangements.”

The Orc Lord hummed, putting away the portrait of the second prince to look at the final painting in the stack. Her body froze stiff.

“… This is the third prince?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Vyra slid her hand over her mouth, her eyes staying fixed on the portrait. She couldn’t look away—no, she simply didn’t want to. He was quite the specimen.

“… He’s handsome.”

“My lord?” Inari tipped his head slightly. “The third place is known for being timid, untalented, and the least... popular of his brothers.”

“Is that so?”

Vyra continued gazing at the portrait. Well, there was a chance he didn’t perfectly suit human sensibilities, indeed. Orcs were larger, burlier, and less delicate than humans were, and to Vyra, Orcs seemed “normal”. In contrast, humans were small, fragile, and doll-like, with thin limbs, smaller bodies compared to their heads, and big eyes. Goblins went much too far in that same direction compared to humans, such that they appeared ugly, but humans had a hint of delicate beauty to them--at least in Vyra’s eyes. She would call them pretty.

In contrast, the third prince still had all the usual human traits, but he wasn’t quite so stick-thin. He had a touch of a chubby piglet look to him; not Orc-like by any stretch of the imagination, but it gave off a very comfortable impression.

He didn’t look like a frail doll that she had better avoid touching, but a plushie that could be cuddled with. Vyra, who had never found interest in massive, muscular creatures like her kin expected of her, nor ever felt comfortable pursuing the kinds of humans she would have found appealing in her old life (due to her chanced sensibilities), found another being rather attractive for the first time in this life.

“…His social standing isn’t good?”

“No, my lord. He lives in the shadows of his older brothers.”

Vyra held her mouth more tightly, feeling her tusks digging into her palm; it was a needed, sobering feeling. Even still, Inari noticed the blush that was slowly spreading to her cheeks.

“In Andorin, do they marry off the younger royal children to other countries for political gain?”

Inari frowned and lowered his head respectfully. “It has been done, my lord. Usually, they are married to other prominent families within the kingdom, but they will be married outside when relations need strengthening.”

Babylon was a living city. It changed itself according to what the residents wanted it to be, and Inari watched with mixed feelings as a smaller throne rose from the floor beside the one Orc Lord Vyra was sitting in.

“Thank you for the information, shadow,” the queen spoke slowly. “I need to speak with my advisors. You may go.”

The shadow’s heart was unsettled. He didn’t like the thought of his flawless master growing attached to that failure of a prince, but her will was law, and so he made himself scarce.

***

The Claymore Kingdom, directly North of the Andorin Kingdom, was a country with loose soil. In ancient times, their land was rich with clay. They dug their riverbanks endlessly for it, and now there was nothing but silt and sand left. The major river that ran from the Black Mountain Forest to the Andorin Kingdom, and finally North to the Claymore Kingdom, swelled greatly every time there was significant rainfall. And nearly every time that happened, it overflowed from its banks, destroyed the crops, and changed its course. It was now known as the Dragon Tail River in the Claymore kingdom because of the incessant and destructive way it thrashed about.

A large castle, thankfully built upon a sturdy and tall foundation of stone, loomed over a devastated city. The sight was nothing new. The castle was so large because this had once been the capital of the Claymore Kingdom, but the actual capital had long since changed locations to somewhere more stable. Nevertheless, the king was here now to assess the damages directly.

“So, how much did you say the damages were?”

King Claudius Claymore was a tall man with broad shoulders and salt-gray hair. His face seemed to permanently be scowling, and there were small rolls of cloth stuck up his royal nostrils. Unfortunately, the flooded river came bearing all the filth from the Andorin Kingdom upriver. It was good for enriching fields—when it wasn’t flooding them—but terrible for hygiene, especially when it reached this far into the city.

A secretary in a brown robe bowed his balding head timidly. “Sixty-two thousand magic stones, your majesty. Several important warehouses had their contents destroyed.”

The king sighed. Just the fact that he would make such a gesture in front of his servants expressed how frustrated he was feeling. “That’s too much. That’s really too much this time. And this filth! How I wish I could just march to the South and take the fees from Andorin’s coffers.”

Claymore had done such a thing once, but Andorin had allied with other nearby nations and decimated their army. Now, there was a treaty in place stating that Claymore couldn’t go to war with Andorin just because the dragon tail river was acting up.

“No, you know what? Fetch me the latest intel from our spies. I’ll find some justification to go to war.”

So he said, but it was just the desperation of a king on the verge of bankruptcy. The populace was full of unrest because they were living in tents while their homes were flooded with foul-smelling liquid. It was mostly cash crops that were destroyed by the flooding this year, so they at least had food to eat… or so they thought. The country and city officials were doing their best to hide the fact that several of the flooded warehouses were for grain storage.

As desperate as they were, the people would be itching to take up arms, but if they simply violated the treaty without any justifiable cause, they would be beaten black and blue by an amalgam of nearby countries.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

King Claymore sat himself in a cushioned wooden chair and started reading through dozens of tightly rolled scraps of paper. His expression gradually changed to one of surprise.

Claudius Claymore had been so busy with his humanitarian efforts over the past couple of weeks that he had neglected these reports, but they painted quite the interesting picture.

The capital of Andorin was gathering blacksmiths from across the country, arms made of rare metals were being produced, and an entire knight house had isolated itself from society, as if they were being detained.

The king stroked his scratchy beard and smiled a bit. “Could it be, a noble family was found to be hoarding these precious metals? Or maybe they were detained for some other offense. Either way, they seem to be preparing for war, huh?”

Alright, he decided, whatever they’re up to, it looks pretty suspicious. I’ll forge some documents that say Andorin is planning to conquer human lands and say my spies recovered them. He chuckled mischievously. Maybe we’ll see a reversal of the war seventy years ago.

His personal motivations aside, it was crucial to go on the offensive before Andorin finished its arms production. The sooner the better. King Claymore summoned his spies to forge something quickly while his vassals were on their way. If they surrender, I'll let them off with paying for damages and marrying their second prince to my daughter. If not, I'd never object to that up-river land of theirs.

***

While they were alone in a small room in the crystal palace, Vyra held up the portrait of Andorin’s third prince for her mother to look at. The fire-skinned Mayhem Orc had gotten an upgrade to her equipment, just as her daughter had, now that the the joint Fomor-Dwarf smithy was able to work highly magical metals. Those two smiths had practiced very hard, crafting her a white, valkyrie-like angelite armor streaked with swirls of red Herite. Both were highly magic-conductive metals, and very light. Herite was actually the more efficient conductor, but it was too brittle to use on its own.

Oolga’s body was essentially composed only of fire elements, so she couldn’t truly be wounded. They made an armor for her primarily intended to enhance her offensive spellcasting and off-balance her opponents. It was rather showy and didn’t particularly cover any vitals, not that she still had any.

The Mayhem Orc held her chin and leaned in a bit, examining the painting closely. There was no name written on the picture or its frame, and her daughter hadn’t explained why she was being shown this, so the flaming red Orc looked a little confused.

“Um… He’s cute for a human?” She didn’t know what Vyra wanted, so she just said what she thought.

“Isn’t he?!”

To Oolga’s surprise, her daughter blushed and turned the painting back around for herself to look at. The third prince had soft, silver-blonde hair, grown to about shoulder length and tied with a blue ribbon. His eyes were crystal blue with long, dark lashes. His skin was fair and smooth, aside from a few dark freckles on his cheeks, which were cleanly shaven and a bit chubby; rounded like a classical cherubim.

“He’s just turned seventeen,” Vyra said, “which is not quite a marriageable age in the Andorin Kingdom, but I’m technically less than a year old, so I don’t think it matters as long as he’s emotionally mature enough.”

The Mayhem Orc blinked, having heard at last what sort of secret meeting this was. “Did you say marriage?”

Vyra looked up from the portrait and frowned sadly. “Maybe. It’s my first time fancying someone, so it might be fleeting. Or I might not like him after meeting him… Would you be against me marrying a human, momma?”

Oolga took in a deep breath and let it out calmly. “No. You can do as you please. The joys and burdens will be yours to bear. However, are you planning to take him as an Orc or as a human?”

Vyra blinked, and long-forgotten memories of the Orcs’ seasonal mating flashed in her mind. She recalled scenes of Orc women ganging up on strong men, beating them until they could no longer resist, and dragging them to private rooms. She hadn’t abhorred such an event at the time, but she'd had no interest in joining it either.

When a specimen like the third prince was added to the lineup, it seemed surprisingly tempting…

Vyra shook her head, banishing the thought. “They say he’s timid, and our mating rituals are viewed as despicable in human culture. I want a harmonious marriage, so I’ll take him according to human customs.”

Her mother nodded, seeming satisfied with that reply. “So, how will you meet him? And how will you convince the King to give you his son?”

The Orc Lord fumbled. Upon realizing she had no real plan to support her fantasies, her mind muddled. No sane strategy seemed to come to her that wouldn’t take at least several years. But at times when her mind was slipping away and her emotions got the better of her, her instincts as an Orc Lord would always be there to shine through with a bloody red light.

“If they ended up going to war with somebody, I could reveal myself--at least to their high officials--as an ally. And if I save them from annihilation, surely they’d let me have him. They could even seal our alliance with a marriage before the war even gets started!”

Oolga chuckled to herself, looking at her daughter, absorbed in girlish love while showing blood-thirsty eyes. Having the Orc Lord for a child was really so rewarding.

The woman set a hand against her cheek and smiled warmly. “Alright, since you’re so excited about it, let momma help you plan things out.”

“Thanks, momma,” Vyra smiled and took her mother’s small red hands into her own large brown ones. “I’d better get Varoon, father, and Surumi here as well. They should have much to contribute… or at least I feel like father should be here. Oh, and one more thing…” The Orc Queen blushed and shyed her three golden eyes away a bit. “Could you not mention that I like the third prince? It somehow makes me feel shy…”

“So what should I tell them is our reason for going to war?” the Mayhem Orc chuckled.

Vyra lifted her eyes to the ceiling and hummed. “Hm. Because we can? I’m the Orc Lord; do we really need a reason?”

The war-crazy woman smiled so, so brightly at her daughter. “Of course not~”