Orc Lord

Vyra stood at the edge of a marshy landscape. There was a moderate wind blowing and carrying the smell of stagnant water closer.

Caught between a polluted river and swampland, she mused. No wonder Claymore is willing to go to war over water.

Well, was it really about water this time though? That might’ve been the source of many decades of hard feelings, but what sparked the conflict this time was the magic metals Babylon had traded to Andorin, the weapons the humans had manufactured from them, and the rumors Vyra had told Yui Inari to spread about them.

The King of Claymore took the bait the instant he realized he had enough justification to cut Andorin off from their allies, leading to this lovely two-vs-two situation.

King Claymore turned out to be the type to act quickly, which was a sincere blessing, and Vyra wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“What an outdated phrase,” she muttered to herself. I used to think a gift horse was a horse that gives out gifts from its mouth. When was it that I learned it was actually a horse that had been gifted to somebody? Apparently you check a horse’s health by looking at the inside of its mouth, so looking a “gift horse” in the mouth—“Really should be a ‘gifted horse’,” she grumbled—means doubting the quality of a gift given in good faith. How did it end up meaning “don’t question good fortune” instead and convincing me some kind of medieval gift-giving-horse existed?

She tipped her head in thought. Now, medieval, that’s a weird word. Where’d I get that?

“Considering getting a mount for yourself, baby?” Oolga asked from beside her. “It would have to be a gifted horse indeed to carry you into war and across the skies.”

“Huh?” Vyra looked down at her mother, startled out of her pointless introspection. “Oh, was I talking out loud? It’s nothing.”

Yeah, I guess if they’d called it a “gifted horse,” I would have just been confused in a different way. Language can be so…

Language was easy for Orcs. Natural. Vyra wondered what had possessed her to even complain about it.

Whoever told me that dumb phrase must not have understood it themselves. That’s the only explanation.

“I was too excited to sleep last night. Now I have a bit of a headache,” the Orc Lord confessed.

“You’ll forget it when the adrenaline hits,” her mother chuckled.

From far away came the sound of a horn blowing. The human army—specifically Andorin’s—had noticed enemy forces. Vyra cracked her neck and chuckled.

“Yes yes, thank you, humans, we can all see them.” She raised a hand and the mages, most of them high orcs, some lesser orcs and goblins sprinkled in, came to attention. “Incoming harpies. Let’s wait for them to come closer. I don’t want any wasted spells.”

After giving that order, she created a javelin for herself with earth magic, holding it casually at her side. What might’ve resembled a flock of birds on the horizon gradually resolved into winged, humanoid forms. Vyra considered that she’d have to endure their unsettling appearances if they came too much closer, and her forces would soon be in range of the shrews’ projectiles.

She lifted her earthen armament and the mages behind her all conjured projectile magic of their own. “Ready? Fire!” At the same time as her words flew, so did her weapon, and dozens more manifestations of magic. The feathered monsters swerved to dodge out of the way and dropped various rocks and spears they were carrying. A few fired off some simple wind or lightning magic. Vyra and the other earth mages shaped barriers to protect the ground forces.

A few Orcs were scratched or bruised, but nothing serious. Once the volley was done, the harpies began to retreat to restock their payloads.

“One more volley! While their backs are to us!” She ordered her forces and they let fly another bout of spells. One winged monster took a ball of flames to her flight feathers and plunged from the skies into the swamp below. The rest scurried away like flying rats.

Vyra glanced at her mother, who smiled in false sheepishness. “Oops. Well, a few deaths won’t be a problem, right?”

Vyra folded her arms, “If we scare the harpies out of this war, we lose our casus belli. And if we defeat them too easily, Andorin won’t appreciate our contribution enough.”

Flames flickered eagerly across the Mayhem Orc’s body, “But if we just let them escape over and over, the humans will think we’re incompetent.”

The bloodlust plainly visible in her eyes betrayed Oolga’s point. And besides,

“They won’t,” Vyra shrugged. “Humans consider forcing the enemy to fall back a victory, especially when our forces have suffered no losses. I learned that from Prince Verde.” Her yellow eyes bore into the woman who brought her into this world with a matching thirst for violence. “I want the harpies to be fully committed before we get serious with them.”

“Poor Fiara is missing the war just to get that project done faster,” Oolga sighed. “She’s missing this prelude, anyway.”

Vyra smiled, then frowned when she heard a horn blow again. “By the spirits, thank you, but we aren’t blind!” She ordered the mages to wait until the harpies were closer and then led another volley. “You’d think they think they’re in charge of us,” she grumbled.

“Maybe it’s a warning for their own people,” Oolga said. “From their perspective, the harpies could divert course and head for them instead.”

“I suppose so. And, well, it is a nice sound.”

She lobbed another javelin at the retreating harpies, and winced when it hit one dead in the chest. Scratching the back of her head, she muttered, “Instinct.”

The sparkling look her mother gave her was a bit embarrassing after having just scolded her for the same thing.

“One or two is fine~” Oolga assured her.

Vyra snorted. “Then we’ve hit our quota, so be careful.”

She turned her three-eyed gaze northward. Somewhere beyond the high-rooted trees, two armies were fighting a real battle with their lives on the line. If only she could pop over there to pass the time until this side started to get interesting.

But war wasn’t fought in a day. Vyra encouraged herself to be patient, since the fun part was still on the horizon.

***

“Dead?” Titania scowled and raked her talons through the carpet her attendants had placed for her, to preserve their Queen from stepping in mud. Those besnouted bastards dare kill my women when we’re doing so much for them?!

The sky Queen narrowed her eyes at the messenger, “Did we at least return the favor?”

The harpy ducked her head. “Injuries, broodmother, but none dead. They protect themselves with earth magic.”

Queen Titania clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Simple strategies won’t break through, I’m sure. From now on, you should use wind barriers more liberally to defend yourselves. And kill off a couple enemy humans as a warning.”

I’m cooperating with these pigs so that my people survive, not to see them picked out of the sky.

The messenger harpy nodded, “The broodmother is wise!” and flew off, leaving a few oily brown feathers in her wake.

Not a moment after the first left the pod-like structure of sticks and mud, a second messenger arrived, squawking, “Broodmother! The king of foul waters approaches!”

Titania sat up straight and quickly adjusted her posture in her twig-woven throne for a better impression. “Thank you. Guide him to me.”

Here to beg for help already? she secretly wondered. If he is, I can kill two godlings with one claw and claim I did him a favor by avenging my girls.

Contrary to any expectation she had, king Claymore arrived with a pep in his step and a smile on his face. He stood proudly in his ceremonial armor and swept his graying hair back with the hand not holding his helmet.

“Quite the beastly command tent this is,” he chuckled. “I say, this war business is far less terrible than my father always claimed.”

Shocked, Titania heard herself mutter, “What?”

“We’re crushing them out there!” Claymore put his hands on his hips and bellowed a laugh. “Not a single casualty on our side this whole day! Dozens wounded on theirs! According to my men, those Andorin bastards barely even know how to row a boat, haha! We’re circling them like children and landing volley after volley.”

…What? Titania stared at the human male in shock. Are his soldiers actually competent? She blinked. Come to think of it, unlike my predecessor, I haven’t led any large-scale battles against humans. Have I been underestimating this man?

… Will the pigs want me to sabotage him? Titania’s wrinkled lips turned down. Then they shouldn’t have killed my women.

“Congratulations, King Claymore. That is good news.”

“Oh, call me Claudius, Queen Dowager, aren’t we allies already?”

Titania glanced at her translator, Chitrathia, who looked small and uncomfortable. He’s still daft, she sighed.

“Then please call me broodmother,” she said slowly and watched as Chitrathia took extra care to get her meaning across.

King Claymore blinked and stroked his salt-and-pepper beard. “Well, mother of eggs, if you insist. But that’s a bit long in my tongue, so how about I call you Eggs for short? After all, it’d be strange if I called you mother, haha!”

Chitrathia turned a strange olive shade and translated the king’s words with trembling lips. Titania’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything else, the King of Claymore was already taking his leave.

“I’ll bring news of more victory next time, Eggs, but for now, my men need their glorious leader! Farewell for now!”

The inside of Titania’s pod was entrenched in utter silence after Claudius Claymore took his leave.

He didn’t even ask about the state of our army…

The King of Claymore was a fool. Whatever victory he was experiencing now must surely be beginner’s luck or the skill of the soldiers under him. Either way, the man himself would surely ruin things on his own before long.

“After the Orc Lord is satisfied with this war,” Titania said in a low voice, “we kill that man.”

Her attendants inside the pod chittered and cheered.