Ch.24

Pits of fire burned all around the village, the smell of char and fish in the air as the villagers roasted the fish they'd received, skewered on sticks.

Erik and his knights had been invited into the village, with him alone, into the chieftain's own home. The two of them sat alone, facing each other, legs crossed and on the floor.

The chieftain's expression was conflicted with worry for himself, his people, and family. He felt a sense of dominance overwhelm him, as if his body was being pulled to the ground, his strength waning.

("There is no need to worry.") Erik startled the chieftain, his tone sending shivers down the old orc's back. ("I will do no harm, but from now on, you are to adopt my ways and abide by my laws. You will refer to me as, my lord. To make it easier to manage the population, you will continue to act as the chieftain, consider yourself... Well, vassal, as it is called in common; your people don't seem to have a word for it. You will also adopt the common tongue to make it easier for communication. Consanguinity is a sin. Identities and familial ties will be recorded, and current marriages will be abolished.")

Someone's steps could be heard outside the entrance. ("Chieftain, the zeman has returned.")

Erik stood up. ("I will leave my knights here for the rest of the day. You will send men with them to return to the farmlands to the east where they will be put to work in cultivating crops and livestock. Food will be sent back here to feed your people. As for the daughter you owe me... You will send her as well.") He turned his back to leave, leaving the chieftain to contemplate the situation he was in.

All eyes were on him as he made his way through the village to the outskirts of the village where his knights were waiting together.

Having them follow, they made their way to the creature he'd killed in the plains, outside the village. There, the zeman, the shaman of the clan and the so-called apostle to the god whose corpse lay before him.

His thin and frail hands pressed against the hard exoskeleton of his deceased god, his breathing unsteady and rasp, and under his breath he whispered unintelligibly.

Erik came up behind him, causing the old zeman to turn his neck creakingly. He gasped a studdered gasp, crawling through the mud on all fours toward him. ("The god slayer!") He muttered. ("My god!") He looked up at him like a dog, a look of admiration in his eyes.

("How quickly you change your allegiance... You are the zeman.")

("Yes!! My god!! And I am willing to be yours!! To worship you, as my ancestors have done for the gods of my people!!")

("In that case, tell me what you can about this creature. Are there more?")

("Not that I know of. He has been our god for centuries, as foretold by our ancestors."

("Centuries?") He unsheathed his blade, making his way around the creature and striking its abdomen, only to have his blade bounce off the hard exterior. The old zeman followed after, watching as Erik resheathed his blade and instead created his blade. Seeing the pure dark blade was mesmerizing, such a pitch blackness stood out like the stars in the nighttime.

Easily, he cut through the hard exoskeleton of the creature; it's still warm guts spilling out like slime. The smell was putrid, like days-old rotten fish. The zeman and his knights all stepped away, gagging and coughing. Even Erik couldn't maintain his stone-cold expression, making a disgusted and sour face and covering his nose the best he could.

"Retchid. Forget it. We will prepare to harvest it another day." He turned to the zeman. ("You there. Allow none to come near here. As it begins to rot, it will surely leek poison.")

("Of course my new god!!") The zeman happily agreed. ("May I ask! What is your godly name?! The title I shall refer to you as.")

("Godly name? I am yet to think of one, but you will refer to me as my lord.")

("My lord!")

Erik walked away, over into the direction of his steed, which was chomping on some grass not too far away. His feet passed wooden boards and splinters littered about the ground, the remnants of the wagon which the monster had destroyed. He was not happy that the only real means of transportation he had was destroyed, but it was not something that couldn't be replaced given time.

He pat his steed as he approached it, letting out a sigh of fresh air. His wrist was bruised rather badly, the whole of his arm having taken significant damage from his prior feats of strength, though he showed no sign of being in pain.

He returned to his village not too long after.

He hopped down his from his steed, pulling it into its own pen.

The farmlands had been plowed extensively, and crops that had been planted were growing well, though the smell of shit in the air was less than pleasant.

Of the farmers tending to the land, Astra was one of them. He saw her tending to a sprout from over the fencing. Walking around and inside, he called out to her. "Astra."

She turned her head to him. "Milord?"

"Come." He said, walking in a different direction and to a row of vibrant green herbs.

She dusted off her lap and stood up to follow after him. Erik snapped off one of the herb's fairly large and succulent leaves.

Inside, he had Astra treat his bruising. He took off his top and sat on the ground, handing her a small bowl and the herb he'd grabbed. "Squeeze out the inside and apply it to any area you see bruising."

She was speechless upon seeing the state of his arms and shoulders, bruising both deep and light, red and dark. "Ah... Yes, milord."

A mucus-like substance spilled out and onto her hands. It was thick and slimy, clear in color. She applied it to his bare skin, commenting on the unique scent. "Milord... This smells funny. What is it?"

"It's an erava herb. Smells of mint." He said. "The natives have been using it to treat sickness for apparently decades. Having yet to research its properties, I can't say for sure if it will be beneficial. From the feeling, it seems to be a pain reliever."

"I see... I do not know what mint is, milord. ...May I ask, what happened? I heard you were going to negotiate with the natives. Did it not go well?"

"It did. The entire county is now my territory, enclosed by mountains and ocean on all sides, but the entrance to the east."

"I see... Congratulations, milord."

"Congratulations are undeserved."

"Why do you say that, milord?"

"Astra, at the moment, I am comparable to a count; the lord of a county, yet it is a kingdom of my own. We lack resources, wealth, numbers, development, even shelter, and food. Winter will be harsh, and if we were to come under attack by an outside force, defending ourselves would be difficult. We also lack armor, weapons, and magic. There are only two who can wield magic, that being Marasia and myself, but what little we, I, can wield, is limited. Frustratingly so."

"...I wasn't sure whether you were able to use magic or not. I had believed I just didn't understand what was happening, but to hear you say that magic is real... Could I use magic?"

"You could. Of course, magic is teachable, inheritable, to the point that anyone could use magic. So yes."

"Could you not teach the orcs?"

"Yes, but I'd be a fool to teach others how to wield magic better than I. The only reason they follow me willingly, is because I am smarter and stronger. I am also capable of wielding multiple weapons skillfully, while they have only recently picked up a bow for the first time. Let that be a lesson and contemplate on it, Astra. Always walk many steps ahead, else you'll be overtaken."

"...I will keep that in mind, milord."

An hour before sunset, the men sent to do labor work arrived.

Erik brought them to the pastures and farmlands. Seeing the size of the fenced-off sections and the number of crops and grazing animals held within, was enough to make them look in disbelief.

("You will all be working here from now on. You will either tend to the crops or the animals. When they eat all of the grass, you will move them into the next pasture so the grass can grow back. You will groom them and make sure to stop any infighting between the males. Any shit will be collected and brought to the manure storage. The crops will be cared for delicately. You will collect fully grown crops and take them to the storage house. You will be expected to water them often and remove pests. Mistakes may be forgiven, but tolerance is only so patient. Work well and food will be arranged for you and your families. We lack housing, so you will sleep where you can. You will learn under the workers. They will be responsible for you. You will also learn to speak our tongue and be educated. Do not disappoint.")

He turned to leave, leaving the veteran farmers to show the new orcs around. It was as he did, one of them made their way through the crowd; a young looking woman.

Erik stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her opening her mouth, but to utter silence. She was clearly nervous, hesitant to speak.

("You must be my new wife.") He stepped closer, sweeping away the curled lock of hair before her eyes. ("Come along. You will learn under someone else. Her name is Astra.")