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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ralo_ramone on 2024-10-29 21:34:31+00:00.
Chapter 164
The pack of orcs guided us through the Farlands, always going north. We followed the same path I had taken with Elincia during our herb-gathering expedition, but instead of going west and sticking to the mountain, we turned to the east, deeper into the Farlands. Little One guided us through hidden paths through the forest and the mountains. Soon, I realized the orcs had a road network. Some roads were wide enough for carriages, and others were little more than animal trails.
We covered more distance in a single day than we had in an entire week. From time to time, Little One stopped and whistled. His calls were always answered with similar whistling. There weren’t permanent structures along the roads, but I noticed concealed surveillance stations—mere wooden platforms—near the treetops.
I wondered how many orcs were out there.
After a while, Little One dropped his guard and focused on speed. Until then, we had traveled silently, attentive to the slightest changes in the wind and suspicious sounds from the thicket. No undead, chrysalimorph, or even stingers intercepted us. The Monster Surge receded, and the orc lookouts had noticed the change. I hoped my victory against the Forest Warden and the Lich gave us enough time to settle.
Wolf, however, grew restless.
“We are getting close to Umolo,” Little One said.
“Many of us have Classes,” I pointed out.
“The tribe will honor Chieftain Dassyra’s decisions even if you accept the System,” Little One shrugged.
The answer didn’t reassure Wolf.
Little One guided us up the rocky hill between the mountain ranges, and when we reached the top of the road, the orc settlement appeared before our eyes. Rising from the rock was Umolo, a walled citadel cut in the mountain’s slope. A grid of tents extended like a fan into the valley from the inner wall. At first, I thought it was a war camp, but I was wrong. Wide roads separated each district and allowed the flux of carts and people around the settlement. Each district had its colors and symbols. The mountain behind the citadel had been cut into terraces, and farmers tended to the winter crops as far as the eye could see.
Umolo wasn’t a tribe but a city. Diagonal roads cut through the grid of tents, connecting wells and fountains. There were markets, workshops, plazas, and stone fortifications, but other than the permanent buildings, everything looked like nomad settlements struck together. At least five hundred orcs had to live within the stone walls, and another thousand camped outside.
“Umolo, the Cradle City,” Little One said with a grimace of displeasure, and we continued walking down the slope.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. Unlike Farcrest, with its broken streets and putrid puddles, Umolo was clean and organized, almost like a color wheel in the middle of the Farlands.
“Umolo only swells this much when danger roams the forests,” Little One replied. “Umolo is not a city for warriors but for the sick, the old, and the scared. Don’t let the Greyfangs hear you saying something like that, though.”
It didn’t take an anthropologist to know that hiding behind walls did not align with the values of the orcs.
“Who are the Greyfangs?” I asked. I needed to know what to expect from Umolo.
Little One let out a long sigh.
“Greyfangs are the guardians of the city, the descendants of Umolo and his tribe. Don’t mess with them. They are the elite among the elite,” Little One said, but he silenced me before I could continue asking questions. “Don’t ask more. We are close to the city, and there are ears everywhere.”
Our group descended the rocky path into the plains. There were ten of Dassyra’s scouts, the four kids, the two elven warriors, and me. We were quite the troupe. I trusted Dassyra to shelter us, but I didn’t count on this many tribes being pent up in the same place. Even if Dassyra wanted to help us, others might be more reluctant to accept System users inside the walls.
Not an hour later, we reached the city. Umolo’s wall was made of stones of various sizes and shapes, all fitted together like a massive puzzle. Some of the rocks had to weigh hundreds of tons. Even with the orcish strength in the equation, the construction seemed impossible. The wall was built to last. Not even the assault of an Iceshard Matriarch would make a dent in its surface.
As we approached, I noticed the remnants of a massive battle.
Squads of warriors piled mountains of undead monsters while orc lumberjacks were cutting the remnants of Forest Warden roots. Despite their muscular bodies, they were having trouble. Several Shamans were blessing the axes to cut through the more hardened parts of the root system.
“An undead attack?” I asked.
“Yes. Last night was difficult. Not only undead but Saplings and Hornets too,” Little One replied.
The amount of monster corpses was astounding.
We continued walking along the wall under the curious glances of the orc workers. A detachment of orcs clad in full metal armor guarded the gates. The iron plates were thick as a finger, several times heavier than what medieval knights wore to battle. Their helmets resembled demonic orc faces, with tusks curling over their heads. They wore gray wolf pelts draped over their shoulders. Their cleavers were so thick and heavy that they seemed to be able to cut a horse in half without much effort.
The armored warriors towered over their fellow orcs; none were less than two and a half meters tall. There were at least thirty of them. Such a unit would’ve wreaked havoc during the human middle ages.
“Who’s there?” The Greyfang captain broke from the formation. His voice sounded like a rock falling into the deepest gorges. It echoed inside my rib cage.
“Chieftain Dassyra’s son and his bodyguards from Farcrest,” Little One replied, pulling the banner of the teal moon.
The Greyfang captain examined us, his eyes shining through the slits in his helmet. Wolf remained still, enduring his glance. Then, the Greyfang captain turned towards Hallas and Pyrrah. “The elves aren’t from Farcrest. They are wearing royal armor. Where is your Gilded?”
Hallas stepped forth and performed a courteous salute, unfazed by the Greyfang’s presence. Hallas was a tall elf, but the Greyfang captain almost quadrupled him in bulk. Pyrrah shifted nervously.
“Our Gilded fell battling the Forest Warden, but our assignment remains: eliminate the Forest Warden. We joined forces with the human warrior Robert Clarke and defeated one of its Vessels not a day ago.”
His words seemed to catch the Captain’s attention.
“So, the Forest Warden is producing vessels already,” he said.
With a wave of his hand, two armored soldiers broke from the formation and disappeared behind the gate. Then, he turned to me and laughed deeply, like a mountain splitting in half. He pressed his fingertips against his forehead in some sort of ceremonial salute.
“Umolo smiles at the mighty. The gates of the city are open for Chieftain Dassyra’s son. Open the gates!” the Captain said; however, the armored soldiers didn’t break formation. “As per our treaties, the warriors from Farcrest can rest and heal their wounds, but they can’t stay. We don’t deal with Corruption.”
The gates opened, and the Greyfangs let us through. I felt their glances stuck to my back until the gate closed behind us. I let out a sigh of relief, and for the first time in days, I let the exhaustion enshroud me. My shoulders felt heavy, but we still had a long way to go to Dassyra’s camp.
Up close, the city was even more impressive. Tents stretched in all directions, with their work benches and drying racks tidily arranged before them. Everything was like Dassura’s outpost but multiplied by a hundred. Multicolor banners and flags marked the districts where orcs of the same tribe camped. As the orcs cleaned the mess from the Forest Warden’s attack, we walked down the road. There were whole blocks that had been reduced to rubble by the root system and huge tents where healers tended the wounded warriors.
“I should help them,” Wolf muttered.
“We will have time for that later. Let’s settle down first,” I replied.
The words of the Greyfang captain still echoed in my mind. We don’t deal with Corruption. Still, Byrne had spent a lot of time in Dassyra’s tribe, and he was a Scholar. If the orc society had exceptions to the rule, we would have to exploit them somehow.
We traversed Umolo to the north. The grid system allowed us to cross the city in a few minutes. The orcs cast curious glances at us but let us through. Tents needed patching, weapons required fixing, and there were more wounded than healthy orcs. The northern part of the city seemed to have received the worst part of the attack. Wolf walked behind me, almost making the group drag.
“Don’t be nervous, Wolf,” I said near his ear.
“I know this was my idea, but I shouldn’t be here,” Wolf replied.
“Dassyra is your mother, and these are your people regardless of your Class,” I said. “No matter what happens next, this was our safest and best bet. We did what we had to survive, Wolf.”
“I don’t think I can get us a place here. Not with a Class,” Wolf said without much conviction.
“If something goes wrong, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” I patted her back.
“Thanks.”
The orc’s demeanor changed when we entered the area with the teal moon banners. Many stopped working to greet Little One, offering drinks and snacks. The orc troop dissolved instantly as the scouts j…
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