Chapter 185

Neia did not much care for orcish armor as it turned out. She ran her hand up and down the front, it was bulky, not fitted to her form, but at least she did like the green. It was boiled leather with metal woven through straps bound by leather strands, simple to make and would only stop a common weapon at a glance. The pants belonged to one of the tribe's women, and predictably it was far too wide in the hips.

The bow was good, but not great. The sword was a jagged looking thing with a hook tip, this she was used to fighting against. The arrows were not spectacular, but orcs were far more widely known for their close range fighting than anything else.

But what was important wasn't what she wore at that moment. Rather what mattered was that word of the Huntress of the Wilds was being heard by the other orc tribal leaders.

"I was not a General among the humans, I was not their chief, nor their Queen. I was a paladin squire sent to die, and I lived. I lived because I understood how stone spitters, orcs, and others fought, moved, and lived on the move and used that against them. Demihumans invaded my Kingdom several times, and yet always you were pushed back. Why?"

The question hung in the air.

"Many demihumans are stronger than humans, faster, or can fly, or produce great and exceptional warriors that anything less than our great heroes cannot beat. But still the Roble Holy Kingdom stands. Still the wall stands, and you fight among one another out here, why?" Neia reframed the question again, the frosty breath was something she was still getting used to weeks later, but the strength that came with her still slowly changing body was a delight.

Stones cracked in her hands and became powder, and in close combat tests against the orc warriors, she proved herself vastly superior to multitudes at a time.

Still the orc tribes were silent.

Neia chose to answer for them. "Discipline. Discipline and preparedness. You rush in to fight, kill, and then… think you've won?" Neia asked them and shook her head. "How far can you go without food or water? What about shelter from the weather? You don't work together, not as tribes, not even as a single tribe. You fight as individual warriors, all demihuman tribes do, thinking that a step forward is the same as having won, when you're just walking to graves very far from home."

The rumble of the orcs who had lived without food for far too long even one time, let alone more, confirmed her words for the rest.

"If you want me to lead you, I will do it. I will teach you to fight as the Paladins do, not only on the field, but before the field. We aren't looking for glorious battles, but ones we win with ease. There is, however, a condition." Neia said and raised her bluish white hands to quiet the new rumbling among her vast audience that sat at the base of the hill from which she spoke.

"The tribes will not disband afterward. The old ways are done. I will be called Queen of all your tribes, and you will settle in common, fight when I tell you and not before, build what I tell you, and give me all your loyalty. Give me everything, and I will give you victory, or my life." Neia vowed.

Thalren stood up from where he had been seated cross legged and listening. "Frost Queen has won many fights. Taken many lives. Spared many lives. This one is great warrior, and Thalren follows. Thalren obeys."

Most seemed agreeable, but another orc stood up, a big, beefy looking green skinned figure with biceps the size of Neia's head and thighs like tree trunks. He snorted, his deep recessed eyes were sharp and brown and full of anger, his body was tense, his arms crossed in front of his naked chest. "And if not? I am Golgola of Green Fist. We have never had Queen of anything. Mighty Huntress yes, is mighty. But to stay together? This is not our way. We will fight with you, but no Queen, no King, stays over all for all days after war."

"And how has that been working out for you this year, Golgola of Green Fist?" Neia asked rhetorically, "My hunts killed many orcs, my time in the wildlands almost ruined you all here when you could not bring your women and children to safety, or sneak south to hunt for extra food. Now orcs are weak. Your old ways worked before, but not everything is good just because they were always so."

"Golgola is loyal to the old ways." The stubborn orc proclaimed.

"Are orcs born with maces falling from their mother's wombs?" Neia asked the bizarre question, and Golgola was not the only one to look as if the tranquilly asked rhetorical question was insane.

"No." Neia answered it herself. "Someone invented it, and it became popular because it was a good weapon. Would Golgola of Green fist run into a fight bare fisted when the mace was new, or would he use the mace because it is better than one fist alone?"

The orc appeared stymied, dumbfounded, as near as she could read from his heavy breathing.

"Discipline and cities are new weapons. Discipline makes many small ones into a single great one. Cities let you make many things a tribe alone cannot. If Golgola and Green Fist refuse to join us, both may go." Neia pointed toward the way they'd come from. "But they will serve the rest, as I use you as bait for your enemies, and when you are dead, we will avenge you, and the old ways will not care that you were loyal to them any more." Neia warned him as best she could.

But it did little good, he only fumed. "The old ways made us strong! We keep our lands and cattle, we rule the hills, the days are hard, but if we trust the ancestor's ways we will win again!"

Neia shook her head and pointed to the way out of the little hill region. She watched him start to walk away, and many, if not all of his tribe went with him. Olasird'arc lowered his head beside where Neia stood and whispered so quietly that she alone could hear him. "He does not believe you."

"That is his second mistake." Neia whispered as the tribe departed, she then asked, "Have you circled the area, will this place do?"

"Yes. If you want to build a city here, there is no place better, seven great hills offer excellent view of the area, the land between hills is fertile, and smaller hills make excellent points of choking." Olasird'arc answered.

"Choke points." Neia corrected him, then nodded, "Thank you, my friend."

Olasird'arc let out an approving growl, "You figured this place would do, didn't you?"

"I suspected," Neia admitted, "it made it the best place to have this gathering, now, when I've got them fresh and they can 'see' progress being made instead of weeks or months getting everybody together."

They waited in silence, when the last of the Green Fist left, Neia asked, "Will anyone else refuse me?"

One and all, they rose from a cross legged position, and then bent a knee to her.

Thalren was the one to begin, "Hail Queen of Frost! Queen of Orcs!"

Neia looked up at Olasird'arc, "Who said anything about being only the Queen of the orcs?"

"None. But maybe wait on explaining that until your first victory." Olasird'arc advised, and they relaxed as the cheers went up and washed over them both like a great storm.