Orc Harem Ch. 04

All characters involved are 18+.

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6.

The duels continued on in high spirits.

Adam and Jen looked on as hardy and vigorous young men tested their strength and valor against each other. So too did the cheering crowd delight in their skill and tenacity, roaring as sword clashed against sword and as mace splintered shield. But none cheered as loud as Jen, the she-orc nearly spilling her mug of honeybeer every time she jumped from her seat.

Her enthusiasm was a sight to see, enough to draw the eyes of more than a few men - from spectators in the stands to other swordsmen waiting on ringside benches. Adam couldn't blame them for their wandering eyes. He had become well aware of an orcish woman's... unique appeal. Nor did the young noble feel jealous. He figured they could look on for as long as they pleased. Jen wouldn't be leaving the arena with any of them, Adam noted with a smug grin.

Jen came to this tourney in the company of a fourth son... And she will leave in the company of her champion.

Then there was the sound of splintering wood. Adam watched as a man garbed in dark armor and a gray cloak swung his mace into his opponent's round shield, shredding the top edge into a ruined mess of bits. The other duelist, a shorter man in dented plate and a purple surcoat, stumbled from the sheer force of the blow. He lost his balance and fell back on his rump... just outside the painted white circle.

Some in the crowd cheered. Others groaned, either in disappointment of the match's end or in sympathy to the losing party. There were few who found it sporting to lose a match in such a pitiful fashion. Adam merely frowned. Briefly, he had the frightful thought of such a thing happening to himself. And it unnerved him greatly. The indignity of it, to lose like that - Right in front of his lady love, no less!

Adam shook his head and banished the thought from his mind. That would not happen to him. Not today.

The official returned to the ring and made his proclamations to the crowd. The two opponents removed their helms and gave each other a respectful bow. Adam could see then just how young the losing swordsman was - a fresh-faced teen. It was likely his first college match, Adam guessed. And so the young Casterman's sympathy grew stronger.

The two duelists departed from the ring and Adam saw that the younger sportsman was heading his way. The lad was clearly upset, his cheeks reddened with humiliation. But they locked eyes for a moment and Adam gave the younger man a short nod.

This is just the beginning, lad. You'll get better.

The lad seemed to understand. Or perhaps he was just relieved that someone in the crowd was on his side, even if he lost. The young sportsman gave a small nod in turn and continued on to the locker rooms.

And that match concluded, it was once again Adam's turn to take the field.

The youngest of the Castermans took a deep breath, calming his nerves. He pulled his gauntlets back on first, opening and closing his fist to get a feel for the grip. He stood from the bench then, his helm tucked under his arm. Jen rose with him, helping him adjust the surcoat over his breastplate.

While Jen fiddled with his colors, Adam cast a glance across the arena and spotted the man he would be facing off against. On the other side of the ring, his opponent stood tall, cutting a formidable figure. Though young like Adam, it was clear that the other man was the elder of the two, likely in his final year at university.

Over silver armor, Adam's opponent wore a dark blue surcoat emblazoned with a quartered shield of black and white. Adam may not have been familiar with the sigil, but those colors... In Stakaria, black and white stood for magic.

That one is a wizard-knight, Adam realized.

Of course, magic was barred from throwback tourneys. Competitions like the one today were meant to be a test of a man's physical skill and martial ability. So Adam had no reason to fear getting fireballed in the middle of his bout. But arcane schools were known to be prestigious - and very discerning about those they allowed to enroll at their institutions. Adam's opponent might not be able to use spells during their fight, but he could still very well be a ferocious swordsman.

Adam took another deep breath, inhaling through his nose. Before him, Jen offered a sweet, warm smiling. And Adam realized he had all the strength he needed.

Well, almost...

"Would the lovely lady honor me with her favor?" Adam asked of the she-orc beauty. He took her hand in his and gave a bow of his head. He grinned as he heard Jen give a gasp of feigned shock. Though he couldn't see her face, he imagined she was using her free hand to cover her gaping mouth.

"I don't have any silk to spare, sweet knight." Jen cooed, her voice suddenly so sweet and musical like an elf maiden's. Though it was clear that she was playing into his little game, Adam felt a soft fluttering in his chest. Somehow, the young Casterman knew that Jen was speaking only half in jest. Her voice dipped lower then, and the fluttering in Adam's chest turned into a stirring somewhere else. "How about a kiss for luck, instead?"

Adam raised his head and found Jen's eyes glittering with decidedly impish love.

"Even better." He said, grinning.

And so while they stood before the ring, Jen leaned forward and caught Adam's lips in a soft kiss. It was much, much more gentle and chaste than their normal affections, yet it was deep enough to draw enthusiastic cheers from the people in the stands above.

Adam felt his cheeks darken and a lovely shiver roll across his skin. But it was not from embarrassment or discomfort under the crowd's gaze.

Only a fool would be embarrassed to have a woman like Jenakka G'Kalis...

Enjoying the softness of Jen's lips, the sweetness of her touch, even the way her tusks brushed against his mouth... Adam didn't want the kiss to end. But he pulled back all the same.

Doubtless, he was wearing a dumb, lovestruck smile. He donned his helm then, and for a moment he was no longer the son of Casterman. He was just Adam, the bloke who wanted to impress his green girlfriend.

He stepped into the ring, where his opponent and the official awaited him. Adam spared one more glance at Jen and she gave him a brilliant smile. The tiredness he had felt, the aching in his muscles and bones, it all spilled from his body, washed away by Jen's warmth. Adam felt his heart pounding. Not from fear or tension, but from his soaring spirits. He was going to win. And he would do it for Jen.

"FOR THIS NEXT BOUT, ADAM CASTERMAN OF TREVELYAN INSTITUTE RETURNS TO THE FIELD!" The official thundered, his arms spread wide. With each hand, he presented the two swordsmen as they stepped before each other. He raised his scepter into the air, the colored bands twirling from one end. "HE FACES KALLON ROSBY OF MERRIAN COLLEGE OF THE ARCANE ARTS! MAY YOU BOTH PERFORM WITH HONOR!"

As the official departed from the ring, the crowd resumed its cheering. Adam gave a bow and the Rosby bloke gave one in turn. And as Adam tightened his grip on his sword and shield, his opponent did the same.

The wizard-knight was taller than Adam, broader in the chest and shoulders and thicker in the arms and legs. Certainly older too, now that Adam had a closer look at him. Cold blue eyes he had, and a full, dark beard. A year ago, Adam would have been wary of facing a man like this Kallon Rosby, perhaps even feared him. But no longer.

Through his helm, Adam stared the other man down.

Sorry, mate. My lady love is in need of a champion... And you're in my way.

Adam rapped the flat of his tourney blade against his shield, earning a raucous cheer from some of the rowdier attendees in the stands. It was chest-thumping, essentially. A show of confidence - though some called it arrogance. So unlike the usual behavior of the studious Adam Casterman. Yet for Adam, it felt right. Natural. His blood was seething hot, boiling in his veins. There was a fire in his heart and it was burning brighter and hotter with each passing second.

The Rosby fellow gave a small frown under his helmet. Then he moved upon Adam, his sword at the ready. He strode forward with clear intent, iron resolve in his eyes.

In those fleeting seconds, Adam prepared himself for what would be a difficult, taxing fight...

Right up until Kallon Rosby was shoved to the side. A dark blur had slammed into the taller man's flank, knocking him off-balance and sending him stumbling out of the ring and falling to the ground. The crowd's cheers gave way to shocked gasps and murmurs as the intruder stood at the center of the ring, wearing a dark, hooded coat.

The intruder reached into the coat and produced two daggers, one in each hand. Quickly, the murmurs in the crowd turned to cries of fear. The daggers gleamed as they caught the light and Adam could see how sharp they were. They weren't dull, blunted tourney weapons. Those daggers were real, Adam realized. And very deadly.

"Are you Adam Casterman?" The intruder spoke in a hard yet smooth voice. A woman's voice. Adam blinked, the situation so baffling that it almost didn't register that this mystery woman was addressing him.

"What is the meaning of this?" The official demanded as he returned to the ring, red-faced and furious. "You cannot interrupt a scheduled match! Such behavior will not be tolerated in this arena-"

The intruder paid the official no heed and threw off her dark coat. Adam felt his eyes grow wide as saucers. This stranger wasn't simply a woman. She was an orc woman!

The intruder stood before Adam, her skin a pale gray, her body toned and muscled, and she was wearing considerably less than the armored plate contestants normally wore. Another round of gasps came from the crowd. Adam couldn't blame them. Indeed, the sight of a very fit she-orc in sweatpants and a sports bra was a striking one.

Striking and beautiful, Adam noted.

As he had seen Jen's appeal, so too did Adam find his eyes drawn to this new orc woman. Her gray skin may have been pale, but it looked not at all sickly. There was a liveliness to her complexion, her skin smooth and possessing few - if any - blemishes. Her arms and shoulders were firm with muscle, but not so much that she appeared brutish or masculine.

Even with her black hair cut short, her womanhood and femininity was as clear and obvious as the sun in the summer sky. Her sweatpants were decidedly tight upon her wide hips, and her sports bra was quite snug over what was undoubtedly a proud bust. And the swath of toned belly that she had left bare was joy to the eyes. To cap off her unique appearance, the she-orc had tattoos of black, orcish script circling up the length of both of her arms. Striking she was indeed.

The gray she-orc shot Adam a piercing look, her red eyes tearing into his. She spun the two daggers in her hands before gripping them both tightly by the hilt. It was clear that she was no novice with the blade. So Adam held up his shield, readying himself for whatever move she would make. An instant later, she advanced on him.

The official quickly fled to the sidelines. But Adam didn't panic. Her blades may have been real, but so was his armor. His shield as well. The young noble steeled his nerves as the she-orc struck at him. A swipe up high, a thrust down low, attempts at his flanks, Adam checked them all.

The intruder snarled as her attacks were met with his shield, deflected away or simply stopped cold. Yet for every strike the she-orc made, Adam made no attempt to answer them with attacks of his own. Dull and blunted as his sword was, it was still made of steel and could very well kill an unarmored fighter. This intruder was a disruptive presence, true. But Adam wasn't going to kill her for that.

The crowd, for their part, seemed to be bemused by what was happening in the ring. Some screamed in shock. Others, mostly the contestants, cursed in outrage at the she-orc's interruption. Some people in the stands were still cheering, even laughing. Perhaps they believed that the she-orc was part of a performance. Or maybe they delighted in her unexpected disruption.

Another swing from the she-orc came, swiping her dagger at his flank again. Adam batted it away with his shield, moving on steady feet to keep himself out of her reach.

"Woman, what in the bloody hell are you doing?" Adam demanded, ducking away from another wild swing of her dagger.

The she-orc spat a curse in the orcish tongue, driving her other blade forth in a desperate thrust. Adam checked the blow with his shield, sending the woman off-balance. She stumbled but kept her footing. Wild as her attacks may have been, it was clear to Adam that she had some experience with blades and footwork.

"Stop talking and fight!" The gray she-orc shot back, her voice as sharp as her daggers. She made a thrust towards his neck but he leaned back out of her reach. "Show me that you're a warrior!"

"I don't even know who you are! Why are you trying to kill me?"

"A chieftain should be strong." The intruder growled, baring her tusks. Slightly larger they were than Jen's, but still smaller than the tusks of orcish men. Her red eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. "So show me your strength, human!"

The strange orc woman readied her daggers for another flurry of blows. Adam readied his shield. But before another clash could be made, Jen came running out onto the field. For a moment, Adam felt a spike of fear as he believed that his girlfriend would throw herself into the fray for his sake. Pure dread flooded his veins as he dismayed at all the things that could go wrong.

But instead of tackling the stranger to the ground, sweet, lovely Jenakka came between them, blocking the other orc woman from taking another swing with her daggers. Then she got right up in the stranger's face, shouting with anger Adam had never before seen from his girlfriend.

"Stop! Stop!" Jen shrieked, so ear-splitting her voice was that even the fierce, snarling stranger seemed to deflate some. "Sayla, you stop this nonsense right now!"

Sayla?

Adam looked on, dumbfounded. His eyes jumped from Jen to the gray she-orc then back again. The fierceness that had been on the stranger's face was gone, replaced with... annoyance? The woman's body language had changed as well, the tension slipping from her muscles.

"Nonsense? What's nonsense is that you took so long to choose a man!" The intruder called Sayla bit back. She pointed at Adam with one of her daggers. "This one needs to undergo the trials. And we don't have the luxury of time, dear sister. Or do I need to remind you?"

"...Sister?" Adam muttered in disbelief.

Huffing through his nose, the young noble let his sword and shield clatter to the floor. Slowly, he removed his helm. He calmly - as calm as he could be, given the situation - he stepped up to Jen and the stranger, frowning.

"Jen... What in the Allfather's name is going on here?" Adam's voice came clipped, his words blunt.

Beyond them, the crowd had ceased their cheering and jeering. Now, they murmured and whispered, hundreds of judging eyes staring down upon the three standing in the ring. Adam could feel their gazes, just knowing that they were drawing uncharitable conclusions of himself, of Jenakka... And her sister.

Jen whirled around then, her eyes betraying anger, frustration, regret, and shame all at once. She gave Adam a look that was both pleading and apologetic, reaching out to take his armored hand.

"Adam..." She started, her voice low and sheepish. A rare thing from his normally spirited girlfriend. "I'm so, so sorry about this. I should have told you months ago..."

Should have told me what? That's what Adam wanted to ask then. That and many, many other things. So many questions were racing through his mind.

Why was her sister here at Trevelyan?

Why was her sister attacking him?

Why did she call him a chieftain?

But Adam's opportunity was quickly taken away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the official returning to the field. And behind him followed a handful of the arena's security staff. Tall, burly men - taller and burlier than Adam and certainly more formidable than the two orc women standing beside him.

Adam sighed as the group of men approached. It was quite a thing how quickly a fine day could turn sour.

The official stepped up to Adam, the older man wearing a cold, stony expression.

"Whatever dramatic conversation you wish to have, you may continue it outside this stadium." The bearded man's tone was like ice. Adam tightened his jaw as he came to a dreadful realization: The staff were blaming him. "I must ask you and these two young ladies to leave."

"Hey, I didn't plan this-" Adam made an attempt to defend himself. But he fared far worse against the official than he did against Sayla's daggers. The older man's next words cut right through his steel plate.

"Mister Casterman, I'm afraid you are disqualified from this tournament." The official declared.

Jen gasped. Sayla snorted. And Adam?

Adam tried to think of something to say, but the look of sheer disdain in the older man's eyes killed any retort the young noble had.

"I'm sorry, but you must leave." The official scowled. "Collect your gear and go."

- - -

7.

Adam went about his tasks in a daze. He turned in his shield and blunted sword and then went off to the locker rooms. There, he removed his plate armor and underpadding. His plate, helm, and padding, he shoved them all into his locker and slammed the door shut. He didn't even bother to shower. He simply splashed some cold water on his face and threw on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

His muscles and bones ached. His body was damn near spent. He had performed half a dozen tourney matches in half as many hours. All that work, down the drain...

Disqualified.

The word rang through his mind like a bell. Weeks, months of hard work, of sweat and bruises and blood, all washed away by a single word. Adam felt numb. At least until he caught sight of Jen and... her sister.

They were waiting for him in the hall outside the locker room. And when he laid his eyes on them, there came a surge of emotion. But Adam bit his tongue and said nothing. He would not cause a scene. His parents raised him better than that.

"Adam!" Jen rushed up to meet him, concern clear in her wide, blue eyes. "I am so sorr-"

"Not here." Adam told her brusquely. "Outside."

Jen pressed her lips into a line and gave a short nod.

Adam then turned his eyes on the she-orc called Sayla. Taller and more muscled than Jen, she was of a similar height to Adam, though he remained more solidly built about the arms and shoulders. She had attacked him - with real daggers - and gotten him kicked out of the tournament. Adam knew he was well within his rights to share some colorful words with her. But his sharp tongue was dulled in his mouth as he got himself a closer look - unspoiled by the rush of combat.

Tall and gray-skinned, Sayla cut a striking figure. She was beautiful like her sister, Jen... But also not at all like Jen. She had an orcish beauty, true, but leaned closer to orcish than to beauty. The only softness Sayla possessed was set upon her chest and her thighs and rear. Everything else was muscle. Where Jenakka was toned, Sayla was firm. Where Jen was graceful, Sayla was powerful. And with her scant clothing - she was still dressed in but sweatpants and a sports bra - there could be no mistake that she was a woman.