Rebels of the Broken Land

The silence in the room could be cut with a knife. Then Percy simply told them that there was an alternative way how things could go.

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Damoran woke up to a hard knock on his door. He had had yet another utterly satisfactory night of hot sex with the tavern keeper. She had sucked her cock and she had ridden him normally and in reverse. He had had her legs on his shoulders as he fucked her snatch with mighty thrusts. She had taken him in her arms in missionary and whispered in her ear in the middle of the night,

"Oh mighty warrior, please make me your woman". And he had done just that. He had learned to be careful with his lengthy cock and was now able to fuck her quite hard without going too far and hurting her. All and all he was becoming as great of a lover as he was a swordsman.

He was quite surprised why they had come for him. He wasn't supposed to have guard duty until the evening. When he opened there was a captain of the city guard with five other men. They were all armed and armored but Damoran knew the captain. He had heavy chains in his hands and he looked like he would have liked to be anywhere else than there.

"I am truly sorry Damoran," the captain started, "we have orders to take you as a captive. If you don't come peacefully we will fight for it. But since I know your capabilities I would prefer if it wouldn't come to that."

Damorans expression hardened, "You didn't bring enough men captain."

"That may very well be so. But unfortunately, that is not all," and the Captain was flustered when saying the next part, "We have already disarmed your squadron and we have orders to kill them all if you don't cooperate," then he tackled with his words and went on, "E-even further we have orders to burn this tavern and its owner with it".

As it was said the captain looked embarrassed. Damoran scolded him for being a coward and a man of no honor for such threats but it was pointless. In the end, the captain just showed him the chain of shackles in his hands and asked how would it be. He put out his wrists and let them chain him up.

Damoran was brought straight to the city hall. There were no guild leaders there, only a huge rulers chair and an elderly but tough-looking man sitting on it.

"By god, they did have a halfbreed. And a handsome devil at that." said the man.

"They were reluctant to go after you and said you would kill men in dozens if we tried to capture you. So I gave them special instructions and look at us now. No dead city guards. Just a simple thing. Find your opponent's weak spot and hit it hard."

"Do you know who I am boy?" he asked from his chair.

Damoran had already figured it out, "You are war marshal Percy," he said through gritted teeth.

"Unbelievable," bellowed Percy, "muscle and brains. No wonder they were afraid of you." Then his expression hardened, "But you were not wise enough. You rebelled against your lawful king. That will not go unpunished. And I am his iron boot lashing out his vengeance. Your friends and your woman have been killed anyway. And you would be too but since you are such a presentable beast we will save you with some of the other leaders to be judged and killed by the king himself when he arrives.

Damoran charged in rage for Percy but his captors were faster. They pulled his chains and he dripped on those hitting his head hard on the floor when he fell.

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King Javerel arrived more than a month later. He had wanted to organize a huge victory parade and Percy wanted to make sure the other cities would not try anything foolish now that the army was assembled in one place. The parade showed Javerel's force with rows after rows of soldiers in their shiny armor. He wasn't any sort of soldier or a commander but he liked to act the part. After his father's death there had been many times he had been jealous of his father. How some people still spoke of him with fear in their voices.

He still remembered how his father had gotten the nickname "cruel". A single low-rank nobleman had been caught calling him cruel behind his back and Percy's informants had reported it back to the king. He had the nobleman's whole family brought up to his justice and forced him to tell what he had been called. The nobleman was crying and at first refused to repeat it but after Javerel's father had cut one finger from his wife the man blurted out that he was being called Javerel the Cruel amongst most of the people.

The nobleman feared for the reaction of the king but Javerels father had burst out in laughter. He had decided that it was a very suitable name for himself. He insisted that from that day onwards everyone would call him that. Then he cut away the nobleman's ears and nose and sent them all home.

The current Javerel however had no nickname like that. He was mostly referred to only as Javerel the Cruel's son and nothing could have irritated him more. Maybe now that he had suppressed the rebel like his father had done before him he would be named something catchy.

He had planned that after his parade in the city, there would be a great gathering in the city hall where he would judge the rebel scum and then sentence them to death with various cruel methods which would be forced upon them right then and there.

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Damoran was brought to the city hall with all the other prisoners. The weeks in captivity had not broken his will completely but he was devastated by the death of his friends. His brain was working hard to find any sort of escape from the situation but there was none and slowly the idea of his own death was starting to sink in. He would never see his father or mother again. Or his half-sister Sina. He fought it but it still brought tears into his eyes.

Many nobles had been ordered to be there even from other cities and all the important persons from the guilds were also there. Javerel enjoyed the attention. He gave them a long and ranting speech about how he had been wise and cunning in defeating the criminal parties trying to usurp his power. Percy listened in silence right by his side.

Javerel asked for more vine and his miserable man-servant brought it to him clumsily. The servant looked like he was sick or something and Javerel decided to have him flogged later for being so awful looking on his day of victory. Such an ugly grey skin tone indicated to Javerel that he must have cancer or something.

The next part after the king's speech should have been for Percy to read out all the treason charges of the captives but a single captain of the king's own forces interrupted it all. He came from outside carrying an enormous battle axe with great effort and declaring that he had something very important to tell the king. Javerel was annoyed by the captain but the axe did get his curiosity,

"Very well. Step forward and state your business," said the king with a grand gesture with his hand.

"There is a huge battle orc just outside the town hall. He asked us to give you this and said that you would definitely want to hear what he has to say. He said his name was Grokon of the Andurians and he would come unarmed if you decide to meet him."

Percy exploded, "He is here? Who let him into the city?" Addressing the king he continued rapidly, "Your grace we must get you to safety immediately and cancel all this until we know more about what is going on."

"But my dear Percy. Surely you are overreacting to this. I have scores of piked guards here and he's still just a single orc." was the king's reply. He had heard the name before. It was his father's old enemy. The one that got away. To him, it meant a chance for him to make his own name.

Percy flustered, "I have sworn to protect you my grace, as I protected your father before you, but you weren't there when he and his troops stormed against us at the gates of the city Takagiwa. I was. And I have never seen anything like that. With that very same axe, he killed my men like they were flies. Please retire to safety and under no circumstances do not invite him here."

Javerel didn't like at all what he was hearing, "Percy dear have you lost your touch? Or have you been listening too much of the old wives' tales? Or is it perhaps that you don't want to see him? After all, wasn't Tagakiwa the only battle you personally lost against the 'The king of the common men'?" he took pause to spit on the name of the man who nearly had beaten his father's armies. "Or is it because he got away from you? All the other generals you were able to hunt down but never him. Well, now he is here. You should be glad."

Once more Percy tried to reason with his king but Javerel silenced him and gave orders to bring the orc in. The day was getting more exciting by the minute.

A loud murmur could be heard from the crowds as the visitor arrived. Spiked shoulder pads and a horned helmet made the orc look even bigger than he already was. Damoran could not believe his eyes. There was his father!

Percy stopped Grok far away from the king and positioned all of the king's elite guard between the orc and the king. Pikemen stood in full battle formation, their spikes turned directly towards Grok. Their huge shields were protecting their front row. Javerel did not let Grok start but rose and with a loud voice addressed his audience,

"Ladies and gentlemen. Nobles and merchants. I, King Javerel the Cunning, Twelth of my name, give to you the terror from the old wars. The general of the eastern armies of the usurper whom I shall not name again. Grokon, the beast from the east!"

The audience gave out an audible gasp and applauded. Many of them had heard the name before but could not comprehend what would it mean that he was here now.

Percy shook his head disappointedly. It was all just a game for the king. It would be hard for him to protect the king if he didn't listen to his advice.

And Damoran was astonished. His father, a general, even a famous one? He had never spoken about it. Damoran had known there was something in his past but not this. And why had he come? It was enough for Eve to lose her son but now her husband would also be killed.

"State your business then, Beast!" urged the king.

Grok looked side to side and then directly at Percy with murder in his eyes. And then he spoke to the king,

"I have no business with you my grace. My war was with your father but I lost. I am here only for my son."

Percy's eyes turned to the captioned half-breed. But of course, that was why he was here. But did he really think they would let them leave? There was very little the orc would have to offer to them in exchange. And Percy certainly wanted his head.

And Grok continued, "So I have come here today to plea for mercy for my son. He is young and did not know what he was doing. Please, your Majesty, let me leave with him and we shall never bother you again".

Percy chuckled but the king burst into an outrageous laughter. To Javerel it was hilarious that Grok thought that just by pleading mercy he could save his son. He put on a smug face and talked to the crowd as much as to Grok,

"I have heard your case and made my decision. You may NOT take your son and further on you must answer for the crimes you committed against my father. I hereby sentence you to death. And it shall be done by having four pairs of horses pull each of your limbs in different directions until you break. Before that happens you will watch your son decapitated for his crimes. This is my ruling!"

The crowd around them murmured approvingly but mostly because none of them wanted to go against Javerel and Percy.

Grok sighed as if he was disappointed with the king's ruling. Looking tired he stated, "If this is your final decision then so be it." Then he nodded significantly towards the king and alarms went off in Percy's head.

Right next to Javerel, his manservant had taken the king by his hand. Touching the king was a capital crime and Javerel tried to jerk himself off from the servant angrily but could not do it. In horror, the king looked into his sick-looking servant as the servant's skin started boiling in bubbles revealing a completely different person.

"You! It can not be!" screamed Javerel in horror. The grey face of the mage Balior stared into him. He could not take his eyes away from his. And deep in the mage's dark eyes, the king saw flames. And then they were both on fire. The king screamed horribly burning alive. The mage was burning likewise but he just stared at the king.

Percy gave orders to get some water but realized it would be too late when the water came. And a second before he heard a thunderous crash from behind him he figured out another thing. He and most of the pikemen had turned their back to Grok lured by the vision of the mage burning the king. In his mind, Percy gave compliments to his old foe. The purpose of the axe was not to show it to them as a token of his identity but it was just a clever way to get the devastating weapon into the hall.

And when he turned he could see pikemen flying left and right. Some of them were missing only limbs but some of them were cut fully in half by the war orc.

Damoran watched in awe. He knew he was fast, strong, and capable but it was still nothing compared to his father. Grok was moving his hulk of a body as if he was some sort of grotesque dancer. There was no shelter from his blows as the pikes and shields and swords all broke down if those had risen against the war axe in time. Most of the guards however didn't even have time enough to react when they were dead. The axe must have weighed twenty-five pounds but Grok was able to hold it in one extended hand for the swings reaching for longer than any of the pikemen could handle.

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Epilogue

Damoran was panting on top of his newly wedded wife. They had done it many times already but she was asking for more and more. Couldn't get enough of him. And he obliged with pleasure as he couldn't have enough of her either. He remembered the widow with fondness but his wife Diarra was a peace of perfection.

It could not be seen in her eighteen years old innocent face but now that Damoran had bedded her he could tell she was insatiable. She was much leaner than the big bosomed widow had been but had irresistible breasts and a perky little tush. He could not believe how good her ass and his own cock had looked going in and out of her when he took her doggy style. It was a small wonder that her delicate frame could even take Damoran's cock in but she had proven that it would not be a problem at all.

During the night Damoran had touched and squeezed, and licked probably every inch of her flawless pale body. Her touch was like fire on his skin and they didn't sleep a single minute on their wedding night.

They had been betrothed months before and as they had had a desire for each other from their first look it had been cruciating to wait for the actual wedding night. At first, he had argued with his father terribly when Grok had told him that he had promised Damoran to marry the daughter of some rich and powerful noble house. He had figured that a nobleman would not fix his daughter to be married to a half-breed if she wasn't hideous or something.

But his father had explained in detail that whether or not she was hideous or not it made no difference. It had to be done as it was part of the huge diplomatic package shaping the future of the whole country. That it was his duty to marry her. Damoran had argued that he was young and wanted to see the world and meet a great variety of women but Grok would not budge. The wedding was on.

His father had been an absolute terror in the city hall on the day the house of Javerels fell. None could stop him and after the piked guards were dead even Percy was out of tricks.

When the fighting broke out Damoran had not remained idle either. He had managed to get one of the iron spikes from a dead soldier and in a very crafty manner used it as a lever to brake his chains. Then for a moment, he was fighting on his father's side and nothing could stop them.

Damoran could even laugh at the memory of how Grok had lowered himself to speak to the trembling head of the merchants guild and suggested to him that that would be the right time for the city guards to change their side once again. Seeing all the death and destruction around them the leader had agreed with no arguments.

The memory he could not laugh about was Percy. The man did not try to fight or flee but accepted his fate. He stood head high when all the others had been killed. Grok didn't ask anything from him. Nor did he lay out any judgment to him. He just handed a sword to Damoran and said,

"Make it clean son. We are not torturers."

With a single stroke, Damoran had removed Percy's head from its shoulders but it did not bring his friends or the widow back.

Of course, the city hall was not enough alone. Javerel's army was in the city but that too had to yield to Grok's will. Javerel and Percy being dead the remaining generals of the army did not have a great love for either of those cruel men. It may have had something to do with their scouts telling them that two new armies were approaching the city.

One was funded by Diarra's father and the second, was an orcish army. In hundred years the orcs had not been able to join under a common cause but somehow Grok had done it. It did not consist of more than three hundred orcs but since no one alive had seen an orc army in operation the generals of Javerel did not want to be the first ones to test their strength.

So peace was negotiated between all the parties and a new ruler would be chosen from the ranks of the noblemen. Diarra's father was highly suspicious about the orcish army and the old general who had somehow within a month or so organized a successful revolution to save his son. He had to somehow make sure that the "Best from the East" would have the same goals as he did. And that is when an ancient and tested solution to the problem came up - their houses had to be joined together by the holy matrimony.