Ch.20

A wild goat roaming the forest, curled horns and a coat of black. Chomping at any vegetation it could find, it happens upon a trap. A rope springs around it's legs, pulling it up to hang from a tree branch. Orcs then jump out of hiding, cutting the rope and subduing the animal.

They brought it back to the village, throwing it in a pit surrounded by wood where a bunch of other goats were being kept.

The forest was littered with traps set by the tribe; by the orc men who had been taught how to set them, and by the women who had been taught to make rope.

Dozens of creatures had been captured and thrown into their own pits: mountain goats, small species of boars, reindeer, grey-coated foxes, and even wolves.

Erik felt a sense of deja vu standing over the pit full of wolves baring their teeth up at him.

A group of orcs approached, carrying a bound wolf over their shoulders.

"Wait." Erik stopped them. "Put it down."

The orcs did as told, lowering the wolf to the ground at which it squirmed and panicked.

Erik grabbed the nape of one of his wolves, one of the very same he had raised so many years ago, pushing it towards the wild wolf.

They both snarled at growled at each other, but it was the wild one that lowered its head in obedience, being far smaller in size.

"Good. Fence off this area, then pull one of them out at a time."

The orcs did as told, though they couldn't understand fully why. Thoughts came to mind, but being so unsure, the curiosity of one of them pushed them to ask. "My lord... Why do we do this? Will we eat them?"

"No. We will raise and breed them, training them to be dogs. It will take time, but eventually, they will serve as loyal companions, suitable for tracking and hunting. For now, you will starve them. Only when they submit, will you be allowed to give them food. Understand?"

"Y-Yes, my lord."

This was only in the first few days of having arrived, and though progress was being made slowly and steadily, Erik was not blind to the fact that with each passing day, things were only going to get direr.

Marasia was tasked with educating the children while the adults worked, though there were only so many hands.

Astra and Chester assisted in the fields, plowing them for future crops to be planted.

By the afternoon, food would be distributed by Erik personally. Bragon fruits were cut in half and given to the women and children, while two were given to the men.

However, the next in line to receive his share was only given half, which made the orc question why. "My lord... This is only one."

"Yesterday, you were given two. You gave one to your wife and child. You will do it again, so there is no point in giving you another if you are just going to waste it."

The orc clutched the fruit in his hand, his nails breaking the red skin. "They were hungry! My lord...!"

"We all are."

"My lord... I do not understand. We have meat! Why do we not eat?!"

"If we eat them, we will have less in the future."

The orc, on the brink of his frustration, was soon to lash out, but was given no chance to as Erik struck him in the head, sending him off to the side. The orc, now laying in the dirt, held onto his bleeding cheek.

"I will explain this once." Erik raised his voice. "You men are given more than the rest because you are expected to shoulder more. You may choose not to accept, but do not waste the food of others who will provide more, just because of your own foolishness."

Erik controlled everything, shouldering the burden of leading, purely because he trusted no one else but himself. He cared not for how his people saw him, which they viewed as a tyrant forcing his ways and disregarding their very culture, but everything he did was for a reason.

He was not against explaining his reasons but had no patience to waste his breath on the foolish.

The land was poor and infertile, and though there lurked dangers around them, his focus at the current moment was to better the land he possessed.

Every day, the village changed drastically, with the next day, Erik investigated the state of the forest's trees, the wood at his disposal. The trees were thick and sturdy, with the crowns of the trees reaching nearly twenty-five meters high.

Currently, they possessed no ores to make tools, but that was fine since he had the shfi'nyl, able to wield it to cut down the trees with ease, as if he used a blade as thin as a strand of hair. He even carved out tools and fencing slats.

The work he did was no less than anyone else.

He plunged slats into the ground, creating large, fenced-off areas, including around the farmland. His clothing was light, dirty, and ragged. He wiped his brow of sweat, looking up at the sky and the sun which was behind a wall of clouds, before continuing.

He was not one to avoid getting his hands dirty because of laziness or anything of the sort, the manual labor that peasants would do, he would admit he was above, but as a man, he would not shy away from doing.

Even that night, he dug out trenches down the slightly sloping hill, all the way to the beach to the south.

The next day, it rained, the water flooding the trenches he dug and draining to the beach.

Everyone took shelter from the cold pouring rain, everyone but Erik. The rainwater began to fill the pits the animals were kept in, so he pulled them out and put them into their own, enclosed pens which he had finished the day prior.

Upon finishing, he returned to the homes where he could be seen by the men, women, and children, peeking through the doors. They saw him trudging through the mud, covered in dirt and soaked to the brim.

At the steps of his home, he threw away the very clothes he wore, right on the steps. He stripped down to the nude before going inside to be greeted by the two women, awaiting inside.

"My lord! You have returned!" Marasia was fearful for the state he was in, kneeling at his feet as he came in with a dry rag in her hands. "Shall I dry you off, my lord?"

She looked up at her master, mesmerized by the look of his body. His body was slender, yet chiseled with muscle.

He breathed heavily, turning and falling back and onto the floor. She took it and his silence as an answer for her to do as she pleased. She delicately wiped his back. Astra too, after a moment, grabbed a rag to do the same.

The rain continued to patter from outside, with small leaks dripping from the roof and the walls. The home was crudely built of wood and animal skin.

In her act of drying him off, Astra scraped her knuckle against his skin, startled by how cold it was. "Milord... You are freezing."

"Yes, my lord..." Marasia said solemnly. "You are cold to the touch. Why did you burden yourself to do the work your followers could have done?"

"There are only thirty-two men. For how much work needs to be done, there are too few hands. The risk of them getting wounded or sick is not worth taking."

His next breath was long and dry, and his lungs felt cold inside.

"My lord..." Marasia pressed against his back. On the other side, Astra too, leaned against his arm, placing her hand on his thigh.

At the moment, his biggest worry should have been raising his body temperature, but the two tempted him with soft breaths. He gave in, finding that it would both quench his lust and warm himself. They were both warm-blooded creatures after all.

There was no bedding, no soft cushions for them to way on, only blankets. They were currently so poor, they couldn't even afford to make any. That would not stop them though, as already, with only their hot breathes merging in the air between them, they were losing themselves to their lust.

He fell back against the wood, Marasia climbing onto his torso, the two locked tongues. They moved inside each other's mouths, exploring every edge of the other's tongue and exchanging saliva as if it were as sweet as honey.

He smelled of earth and sweat, but she didn't seem to mind, and her clothes were sewn of mana, disappearing in an instant.

She acted aggressive, hungry almost, unlike Astra who had yet to undress.

Modest, and as if begging for attention, she crawled up next to him. She let her hair down, a mess of light blonde hair falling next to his ear, and her dress, slipping from her shoulders.

Her arms were slender, her breasts supple. Her face blushed red, even in the faint light from the lit lantern and the cracks of dim daylight slipping in. Her freckles were faint and few, and though they were often a point of ugliness, he didn't mind. In fact, he found them to be just another unique detail of attraction.

The wet slapping of flesh and subtle moans were muddled by the sound of the pouring rain. Steam became visible to the eye, and their puddles of sweat became indistinguishable from the rain droplets.

They went at it for the rest of the evening, for hours til night, when the weather had begun to clear. The two women lay exhausted in his arms, covered in sweat as thick as dew, and their hair damp, clinging to their skin.

Yet, Erik was wide awake, unable to sleep, just blankly staring at the ceiling. Worry was silently consuming him, the worry that anything could go wrong, that something unforeseen could come out of nowhere, toppling the tower of cards he is so carefully building up.

It was paranoia, like a scratch he couldn't satisfy, gnawing at him from behind in a place he couldn't reach. Things seemed fine now, but by the end of the week, as he looked over the remaining food, the basket which only held a few days' worth of food remaining, and the bragon trees which had been picked clean of all fresh fruit, a calm rage began to well up.