Chapter 3

“Chieftain, chieftain,” a young orc cried out in excitement. “The scout has returned!”

“At last,” Kroth said to himself. As he stepped outside his tent, the scout in question, named Amot, rode his bear to a halt in the camp.

“My lord, I think I've found where Djoland is now.”

“Excellent,” Kroth exclaimed. “The sooner we find him, the better. Now where is he?”

“A mountain,” Amot answered, “53 kilometers due west.”

“Alright,” said Kroth, “We set out in four minutes.”

“A word of caution, sir,” Amot continued. Kroth's excitement left him and was replaced with frustration.

“What is it this time?” he snarled. “Another human settlement to walk around, another battle that requires our patience? We have spent an absurd portion of this venture on waiting for local conflicts to subside, and maneuvering around obstructions.”

“Sir, I know you desire to have that indulgence but--”

“I don't desire it,” Kroth snapped, “I need it!”

“Sir, the mountain is occupied by giants!” Amot shouted. Kroth's demeanor changed again, this time to unease. He then answered Amot with a meek, “Oh.”

There was an unsettling pause, that lasted for six seconds before Kroth said, “Make that four hours.”

“Understood, sir.”

As Amot moved away, Kroth called out to him one last time.

“Amot,” he said.

“Yes?”

“I apologize for my outburst.”

Amot smiled and said, “Don't dwell on it, sir.”

Kroth walked back to his tent. He tried to take Amot's advice to heart, but he found it impossible. The indulgence was just too great a prize to ignore, but there was more to it than that. He was a slave to the oldest piece of orc literature, the Laws of Combat, and in this case, the law was number seventeen, never enter battle that has no chance of success.

***

Raquel laid herself down on the grass with her new companion (plus his luggage) in hand. She set Djoland down next to her and turned her attention toward the night sky.

“What are we doing here?” Djoland asked her.

“I like to come outside here from time to time. I love looking at the stars. It makes me realize just how small I am.”

“You, small?” Djoland protested. “That's unusually humble for someone of your stature.”

“Well,” Raquel replied, “Let's just say that my kind has been through a lot.”

“I see,” replied Djoland.

“But enough about me,” she said, “I want to know why you left your clan.”

“Simply put,” Djoland began, “I was bored. There's only so much raping and pillaging one can ingest before it gets a little hollow and pointless. Not even the indulgences could satisfy me.”

“Indulgences?” Raquel asked.

“They're a sort guarantee that one will enter the next life. They used to be given out to individuals who performed honorably, be they a soldier or citizen. Now they're given out to anyone who kisses the asses of the chieftains.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd say your chieftains are a tad corrupt,” Raquel quipped.

“Indeed,” Djoland sighed. “Except one, Kroth. He is perhaps the most honest of the ten chieftains, and he's after me.”

“Why?”

“Duty,” Djoland answered. “He has an overdeveloped sense of duty. He's to terrified to question the will of the other chieftains, which is a damn shame because he's one of our finest military strategists.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of respect for him,” said Raquel.

Djoland nodded and said, “Indeed, but I'm more worried about bounty killers finding me.”

“Oh dear,” Raquel sighed.

“Yup,” Djoland replied. “It all started a couple years ago when I arrived in this small kingdom called Karthon. I spent four months living in the sewers, feeding off rats, and occasionally coming out to get something more satisfying which was usually consisted of me going through trash bins looking for something even remotely edible. It wasn't long before I was spotted by the local populace. I attempted to explain myself, but the king, an unpleasant bloke named Gunther, sent his soldiers after me. So it was back to the sewers for me.”

“Damn,” Raquel gasped. “And I take it that Gunther put a bounty on your head.”

Djoland nodded. “He hired a trio of them, to be exact. They spent weeks in sewers chasing me. Now, my fellow orcs and I are used to horrible smells, but the tolerance these men showed was just unbelievable, and their combat skills were exceptional.”

“How did you escape them?”

“Well,” Djoland continued, “I was lucky the kingdom was lousy at sanitation because I found a leaking oil drum and used my weapon to light it. One was caught in the flames, the other two I took on hand to hand. I didn't kill them though. Just wounded them bad enough to get out of the sewers and leave the kingdom, but that didn't stop Gunther from hiring more bounty killers. By the beginning of last year, I had at least forty hired guns hunting me. After a while though, they just vanished. I guess they all gave up.”

He then shook his head and finished with “Either way, I just don't fit in with the human world.”

“I don't think so,” Raquel responded. “I know a place where you'll fit in perfectly with humans.”

“Oh, please,” Djoland grumbled. “What you're talking about is impossible.”

“Trust me,” said Raquel. “I know what I'm talking about.”

***

Gunther had a reputation in his kingdom as a heavy sleeper. During his time in the military, he slept through whole battles, and was even captured in his sleep. This trait came back to haunt him when a foul smell crept across his nostrils. He awoke gagging, and as soon as his throat was clear, he realized he was not alone. The darkness of his chambers was slightly illuminated by a candle being held by a stranger. The light from the candle illuminated the left half of the stranger's face, and Gunther found that the stranger was a man he recognized.

“Lee?” he asked. “Is that you Lee?”

The stranger nodded and said, “It's me.”

“By God,” Gunther exclaimed happily. He recognized Lee's dark suit and even though he could only see one of his eyes, he recognized its distinct amber color.

“I thought you were--”

“Dead?” Lee interrupted. “Do I look dead?”

“Of course not,” Gunther replied nervously. “But what happened to your partners?”

A seemingly disembodied voice cried out with, “Don't worry, we survived.”

The voice's source came into the light revealing a slightly shorter man in a sharp suit, with neat clean hair.

“Ah, Hayden,” said Gunther. “What about Kane?”

“I'm here,” another voice called out. The voice's owner stepped into the light as well and while the blue and gray suit unmistakably belonged to Kane, his face was obscured by a steel mask, and he was also carrying a large and loaded sack. Gunther's concern slowly escalated.

“What's with the mask?” he asked.

“That's what we came to talk to you about,” Lee answered. “The three of us all suffered some pretty nasty wounds from the orc, and you didn't lend a helping hand.”

“I thought you were dead,” Gunter replied. “We all thought you were dead. We saw the flames coming from the manhole.”

“You could have tried to rescue us or launch a search party, but instead you seal up the sewers for six weeks. Six damn weeks of us consuming God knows what. I swear you must either be stupid, or incompetent.”

“I'd say both,” Kane snarled.

“I'm sorry,” Gunther protested, “I had no idea.”

“Then let me give you an idea,” Kane answered, and with that he removed his mask revealing a horrific, burned face. Gunther could do nothing else but recoil in horror.

“That's not all,” announced Hayden. He raised his black gloved right hand. He grasped the hand and removed it from his arm. Gunther screamed. His three tormentors laughed, but it was by no means an evil laugh. It was the kind of laugh one hears as reaction to an excellent joke, which made the situation all the more terrifying.

“It's fake, you fool,” said Hayden. “The same goes for my leg.”

To demonstrate, he pulled up the cuff covering his right leg, revealing an iron armature. Gunther then turned his attention to Lee.

“Well, what about you?”

Lee answered his question by bringing the candle closer to his face, revealing that where his right eye should be lay an empty socket.

“What do you want from me?” Gunther gasped.

“The money you owe us.”

“Of course,” Gunther replied. “Nine million gold. I'll just--”

“We don't want nine million,” Lee interrupted again. “Add three more zeroes to that number.”

“Nine billion?” exclaimed Gunther. “You're nuts! That would leave the kingdom bankrupt. I mean, after my people--”

“Your people can all go screw a horse for all we care,” Hayden snapped.

“That's right,” said Lee. “So, unless you want nice little disemboweling, I suggest you agree to our little arrangement.”

“Before I do any of that,” Gunther protested, “I have to know what the hell is in that sack.”

Lee chuckled, and said, “It's our competition.”

Kane then dumped the sack's contents, over a dozen severed heads, on the floor. Making things more horrifying was that Gunther recognized every single face.

“You should have stuck with us,” said Kane as he tossed the sack aside.

Gunther drew a small single pocket pistol from his trousers, and aimed it at his tormentors who, in turn, drew their own sidearms. Lee drew a black and silver revolver, Hayden drew a four barreled derringer, and Kane drew an automatic pistol. Gunther stepped out of his bed, and slowly made his way to the door.

“Guards!” he cried. No response. “Guards!” he cried again, and like before, no response. He then darted for the door, and exited the room in a flash, but as soon as he stepped outside his room, he stepped in something wet. He looked down at a large puddle of blood, and the bodies of two guards lying in said blood. Faced with this, there was only one thing to do. He dropped his pistol and ran for the nearest exit, stumbling over more dead bodies along the way, and with tormentors in pursuit.

It took him three minutes to reach the front door, and at first, he seemed to have made a safe getaway. But has soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by an army of at least fifty heavily armed men, some on horseback, some in armored vehicles. He stopped dead in his tracks, not knowing what to do. Just then, Lee's voice returned.

“So,” he said, “do we have deal?”

Gunther turned around to the trio, and asked, “Who are these people?”

“Mercenaries,” Lee answered. “Bandits, killers, folks who all want a piece of the action, and we're going to give it to them if you cooperate. If you don't, then this kingdom of yours will burn.”

“Fine,”Gunther snapped, “I'll get your money, ”

“And we'll bring you the orc on a silver platter,” said Hayden.

“Alright,” sighed Hayden. “Now, please, go.”

“You heard the man,” Lee announced. “Let's go.”