Orc Dominion: Triumph Ch. 16

Perhaps they still could. Brigitte had managed to convince Markoz to attack Trogar's army in conjunction with the Sandoran forces garrisoning the Seven Fortresses. The hope was to roll them up and capture King Trogar and any other nobles they found to ransom for hostages. My Chief won't give me an opportunity to stab the King, she thought and smiled wryly. Besides, he will make a better captive for my father.

She was partly relieved at that. The death of Susannah still weighed on Brigitte, for all the bitterness she felt towards Jeanette. Life as a princess had not prepared her for being personally involved in the bloodshed. But then, it didn't prepare me for life with the orcs and I adapted. I shall overcome this as well.

After being defeated outside Shropfordshire, Trogar's forces had retreated northeast just as she wanted. There they linked up with the screening force protecting Zentara's border with Sandora. "Between the losses they suffered in battle, and the forces my father will bring the odds will have evened out" she had assured Markoz.

The countryside between Shropfordshire and the Sandoran border was flat and grassy. Farmlands and small villages dotted the surrounding area, but after gorging themselves at Shropfordshire the orcs had little interest in such meager fare. No, they're intent on finishing this and returning home with their spoils, she thought with a sigh, how Jeanette managed to keep their army in the field this long is a miracle I'll never understand.

"That's not fair" she said to herself, "they've had a couple generations to change the orc culture." She didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed that orc culture could change so easily. They've almost perfectly adapted into human civilization.

After riding for two days, a task that was becoming ever more difficult as Brigitte's stomach grew rounder, they finally were close enough to Trogar's army that they could halt and assume a battle formation. The horde stopped alongside a mill. "Is their army in good order? Will it be difficult to defeat them?" Brigitte asked.

"Hah! These orcs have gone soft. It won't be any harder now than it was last time. They don't have enough horse to keep up with us. We will drown them in arrows and then ride them underfoot!"

"Just be careful my Chief, I don't want any harm to come to you. You have to return to me and our child." Brigitte stood up on her toes to kiss Markoz on the lips. "Stay safe my Chief, but destroy our enemies!"

"Always, Princess!"

Markoz's confidence bolstered her spirits, but the prospect of battle still worried her. Anything could happen in a battle, and no matter how powerful a warrior that Markoz was, simple bad luck could mean his end. Sooner than she thought possible, she began to hear the sounds of battle in the distance. The sun dragged across the sky, and with each passing hour her nerves frayed further. Father is out there as well, or should be. Please keep them safe!

Brigitte paced nervously back and forth around the center of the semi-permanent camp that had formed in the train of the orc army. The gathered horde had started out light and mobile, but after the sack of Shropfordshire they became weighted down with loot and captives. It took more guards than she would have thought to protect it all, and she only hoped that it didn't weaken the horde too much for the battle.

Either way, it seemed that the end was rapidly approaching. The thunderous clashing of two masses had faded, the trumpet blasts had ceased. The battle cries and death wails had hushed and gone silent. In their place was the acrid smell of gore and death wafting in with the breeze and the growing din of approaching horses. That is a good sign, she thought, Markoz is more likely to be ahorse. Unless it's the Zentaran cavalry pursuing a routed army.

There was nothing she could do but wait and hope for the best. In the distance she saw riders appear on the horizon. Brigitte tried to make out Markoz's large frame but they were too far distant. She continued to wait anxiously, and her heart beat faster as they drew closer and closer with no sign of her chief.

Finally they drew near enough for her to see that they were March orcs, not Zentaran cavalry and the breath left her in a relieved sigh. But where is Markoz, she wondered. As the orcs drew nearer she could see that they were carrying a captive. The riders approached and dumped their orc prisoner onto the ground before her.

The older orc grunted and pushed himself up from the ground, wincing as he forced himself to his feet. He panted for breath as he looked around, though his attention quickly fell on Brigitte. "Princess Brigitte? So it's really true?" The orc threw his head back and laughed. "If you wanted an orc child that badly you didn't have to go all the way to the March. One of my brothers would have been happy to service you!"

"King Trogar?" Triumph over having captured the king momentarily overwhelmed her concern for her father and chief. "I'm so glad we've managed to capture you. We may not have won the war, but you are just the token we need to bring to the negotiating table."

"Negotiating table? You think that you're in a position to bargain? All your armies have been crushed. It is only a matter of time before they catch up with you and free me!"

"Who will? Your brother or your son? I'm sure either one would love to ride to your rescue." Brigitte smiled as her words bit into him. "But I don't think that will be necessary." She turned to the guards. "Take him away."

The soldiers dragged Trogar away, but before they all left Brigitte signaled one to stay. "Any news of Markoz? Or my father?"

"Both are alive and well. Markoz said to wait in the mill and the human king will see you there shortly."

Relief flooded through her at the news. They live! They both live! And I am going to see my father!

Brigitte never expected to see her father again. When she had departed on this journey so long ago she assumed that she'd never see her family again. That having willingly turned herself into a whore for the orcs would disgrace her, and bar her from ever seeing her parents again.

Now, as the sun set on the battlefield she was going to see her father again. As she waited for him to arrive she couldn't help but titter at the last vestiges of her upbringing which objected that it was impermissible for a lewd woman to be presented to the King. He understands that it was for the best, even if he doesn't understand why I did it.

Even after receiving the letter from him, and replying in order to coordinate the attack, she hadn't really believed that he would want to see her. Brigitte ran a furrow in the soft dirt beneath her from her constant pacing. Her cheeks began to burn as she thought of the King seeing her like this. Brigitte had long since given up her modesty: at least among the orcs. But now not only was someone from her past life going to see her, it was her father.

This is who I am now, she thought, I have nothing to be ashamed of. Compared to the lives of the thousands of men who have perished, my sacrifice is nothing. My father recognizes that, which is why we're here. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

She kept telling herself that, and she did believe it. Even still, the thought of her father seeing her in a skimpy vest and loincloth, with her belly round with an orc's child...it was daunting. My children might be the future of the dynasty, she realized. If negotiations with the orcs went badly they could be executed. Maybe we should maintain custody of King Trogar and keep him as a hostage to the orcs' good behavior.

The door to the mill opened before she was ready allowing sunlight to flood in a moment before her father stepped through. His steel chain shirt shined immaculately atop the leather cuirass; her father was too old to ride into battle himself anymore. Or perhaps the stakes were just too high now, with the Crown Prince having perished.

Markoz entered shortly after, still dirty from battle. He likely would be until she bathed him that night. A smile crossed her lips as she anticipated the celebration afterward. The orc chief smiled widely, whether from still basking in the victory or from being able to show a human king what he'd done to his daughter wasn't clear.

Brigitte steeled her nerve, forced a determined smile on her face, and greeted her royal father. Her jaw clenched as her father flinched at the sight of her but she continued on. "Father, congratulations on blocking the fleeing orcs. In these times any victory we can grab must be celebrated."

Rollo quickly recovered, and with his eyes firmly locked with Brigitte's to avoid seeing anything below her neck he managed a smile. "Brigitte, it pleases me to see you well, to know that you haven't been mistreated. And yes, it is a great victory, one not possible without your-without the alliance you've secured. It may not win the war for us, but it may win the peace." Rollo looked to Markoz. "Your people are to be commended on such a well fought triumph."

The orc shrugged, making the powerful muscles of his shoulders flex. "They had forgotten the way of the horse. They needed to be reminded of how a true orc fights."

"They were. It is a lesson I'm sure King Trogar will not soon forget. The first King of Deznessuian to be captured in battle." A raspy cough interrupted the king. Brigitte rushed to give him a waterskin, and after drinking his fill, the King continued. "A fitting legacy for him. Better perhaps than mine, however: the last of my line to rule Sandora." The old king shook his head sadly and his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of his armor.

"But not the last of your line. It will continue" Brigitte said encouragingly.

Rollo didn't respond to that. He didn't say anything for several long minutes. Finally, he turned towards the door and stuck his hand out, waving something forward. A moment later two stout chests were placed inside the mill. "Trogar's weight in gold. A true king's ransom, and a fair price to relieve you of your prisoner."

Markoz opened one of the chests and ran his fingers through the coins. Their jingle filled the mill as he looked over the treasure. "Captives do not get sold to enemies. They are returned to their people."

"He isn't the captive of some raid across the border, this is war!"

"Queen Jeanette will pay his ransom with poison. She will never forgive the death of the Duchess" Brigitte ignored the pointed glare from Markoz at the reminder of her crime, "any gold she sends will be the bait of a trap."

Coins slipped through his fingers as he dropped them back into the chest. "You're right, of course. That horse has been taken. You can have the orc king, may he do you much good. To be honest, I do not want anything further from the Western Kingdoms. I am ready to return home."

"Thank you." Rollo's jaw tightened. "I wish I could open his throat, to pay Jeanette back for the death of my son. Instead, I must trade him for the safety of my own family." The King of Sandora shook his head in disgust.

"Nothing we can do will bring him back. But at least we can make it safe for our family, and our people." Brigitte's brow furrowed as a new thought struck her. "Will you be able to negotiate with Queen Jeanette? Won't it be Prince Augras and King Grotok in command of the army? Grotok does not care for his brother, and I heard that Augras is estranged from his father. What if they don't want him back?"

"Then I get the satisfaction of killing him, but I don't think it will come to that. Queen Jeanette is still the matriarch of the whole Abyss damned family. They will take her back for her sake. But if all else fails, there is one other thing" Rollo turned to Markoz, "If you would excuse us a moment, I would like a word with my daughter alone."

Markoz looked suspiciously at Rollo for a moment, but after a glance to Brigitte he acquiesced and left the mill, leaving Brigitte and her father alone. The former princess turned to Rollo uncertainly. "Yes, father? You have an alternate plan?"

"I do: you." Rollo reached outside the mill again, and a moment later a small casket was delivered.

A gasp escaped Brigitte's lips as he lifted the lid. "The Sandoran scepter! And the crown! Why did you bring those on campaign with you?"

"To give to you, daughter. Take them into the March and keep them safe. The orcs will not be able to rule these lands forever. They will turn on one another in time, and when they do, our family will retake the throne."

"Father, you know they will be orcs, yes?"

"They will be our blood" Rollo forced out and after a moment he sighed. "The future is orc, at least until such a day as they finally tear each other part. Whether it takes a century or a millennium, be it in this age or the next, the orcs will fall. Knowing that your children will contribute to their end is the only thing that gives me the courage to put myself at their mercy."

Brigitte threw her arms around her father and squeezed him tight. "I'll make sure they know their duty father. My sons won't give them a moment's peace while they're on land. Nor will their sons, until all of the Zentaran orcs have been driven from Sandora."

"I know you will, Brigitte. Of all my children only you could have saved our family in this way. You carry our future with you. I'm glad you've managed to find...happiness where you have. Go, with my blessing. This was has taken everything from me, even you. At least I will have the satisfaction of knowing that you're beyond their grasp, and even happy, after a fashion. Farewell, daughter."

After Rollo left the mill Markoz returned. "What did he want?"

"To give me, and our children a gift." She showed him the crown jewels of Sandora. "The symbols of my family's power, and his blessing. Come my chief, let us leave this place behind. Our life is in the March now."

The next morning Brigitte and Markoz returned to the March, leaving the Western Kingdoms to their fate. The war is over: it is time to leave the past behind and fully embrace my future as Markoz's woman.

****

"Augras! Augras! Augras!" Deafening cheers greeted the Prince as he left his tent and walked towards the command post. They were still at least three days from Orlous, but Grotok had set up camp there to await Amelie. Augras did not even try to convince Grotok to join with Trogar. My future is here in Thesta. He can keep Deznessuian.

"The terrain is good," Grotok had said, "the rolling hills will prevent their horses from gathering speed to charge, but the openness of the terrain will prevent them launching a sneak attack or pulling some other trick. It will have to be a straight up infantry fight, and we outnumber them twenty to one."

The sorcerer prince hoped Grotok's prediction came true. The war, and his plan, was coming into fruition. He did not want some unexpected complication to ruin things now. Augras pushed his worries aside and raised a hand to hail the cheering soldiers, smiling broadly at them.

"Everything will unfold as you desire" Marishka assured him after appearing at his side as if from nowhere. "Your destiny has been foretold." She was looking wan. Mincenntti were naturally slender, but if she lost any more weight she'd be immaterial.

"Maybe so, but in the years we've been together I've never known destiny to provide clear specific guidance on how it comes to pass."

"The how and why does not matter, only the end result."

Augras laughed at that. "To you, yes. You want to preserve your legacy. I have other ambitions."

The roaring of the crowd got louder, drowning out any further conversation they might have had. It didn't recede until they finally reached the command post where Grotok was waiting for him. The orc king was looking older then he had at the beginning of the campaign, and it was clear that the long months in the field had been wearing on him. "How nice of you to finally join us. You must have been delayed by the thronging crowd screaming your name" The King said with more than a touch of bitterness.

Or perhaps it was sharing a command tent with his young nephew that grated on him. The King had never grown accustomed to the sacrifices necessary to power Augras' magic. The orcs in his army did not seem to mind however, as their wild cheers demonstrated.

"They appreciate the fact that my sorcery is winning the war." Augras replied simply, though not without a smug smile on his lips.

Grotok bristled at that. "I forged this army together. I am the one who has led them in the field against our enemies." The King clenched his jaw tightly and took a deep breath. "Your magic has been useful, but you are a captain at best; and now a captain without much of a company since your minotaurs are gone and centaurs depleted."

"My centaurs aren't as depleted as all that. But perhaps you're right. I suppose history will be the judge of who truly won the war and defeated the famous Princess-Knight, Queen Amelie." Augras watched for the grimace on Grotok's face and was rewarded a moment later. My father would appreciate that, not that I did it for him.

"The history has already been written. Tales of the Child of Three Races and his victory will be sung throughout the ages." Marishka's bold pronouncement was said with such certainty that even Grotok flinched.

"The war will be decided here. When Amelie attacks, I will defeat her Falcon Guard and put an end to it. That is what will be recorded in history."

"No doubt. What a glorious victory it will be too, destroying an army that you greatly outnumber. It is fortunate for you that my minotaurs cut off the resupply route, preventing the surviving Thestans in Heste from linking up with their Queen."

"And what fine allies you've spawned on us too, nephew. I hear they slaughtered a patrol of Belkor's guards who were pursuing Thestans into the Catabrian Hills" Grotok sneered.

"We'll have to come up with a new name for them now. The hills aren't really Catabrian anymore, are they?" Augras chuckled. "The minotaurs are a bit territorial, it is true. I would recommend King Belkor trust in them to guard the Hills and not trespass in their territory again."

"You'd allow them to dictate to us where we can and cannot go?" Grotok growled, outraged at the notion.

"Minotaurs are beasts, little better than animals. They protect their lairs on instinct as all animals do. Leave them to their holes, they are unimportant" Marishka stated plainly.

"And what price are your centaurs going to demand when this is over? Will they be claiming land too?"

Augras strolled over to the map of the Western Kingdoms. "I thought to release them into the Angrian March. Let the orcs there deal with them, they deserve it for turning against us."

"That's the first clever thing you've said today. Just make sure they stay far from the Zentaran border. I will not allow them to raid into my Kingdom."

Marishka scoffed. "Animals again. You spend too much time worrying about beasts when your people will soon embrace the higher mysteries of this world."

"Will these higher mysteries require another captive in order to bring down the walls or Orlous? We had to leave our siege engines behind to come through the mess you left in the Hell Pass and lack the engineers to create more until 'order' is restored in the Guilds."

"The sacrifice was required to bring down a mountain and bury the castles. Breaching a wall be substantially easier. Nonetheless, let us try to take a few captives, hmm? My Kingdom will need subjects when this war is over." Augras let that hang in the air, waiting for Grotok to challenge him.