Triumph Ch 2 Preview

Sorry for not keeping the blog updated as much.  I've fallen behind on my writing a bit and am struggling to catch up.  Chapter 2 is done, except for editing, and I hope to have chapter three done by the end of the week.  Chapter 2 should be posted a week from Friday.  Here is a brief preview, enjoy!

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Augras took a deep breath as he stepped onto the dock and immediately regretted it.  After three years on the southern continent and two months at sea, Ruar smelled like shit and filth and rotten fish.  The sea-soaked boards of the dock creaked under his feet as he settled his massive weight on the wood.  The first time he visited the city his grandmother had been able to throw him in the air.  The last time he visited Ruar, just before leaving on his expedition, his uncle had threatened to.  Well, they won’t be able to do that anymore.

“It’s amazing what your people have accomplished.”  Marishka said.  The tall Mincenntti woman regarded the city before them with fascination.  The humans and orcs working the docks gave her a wide berth as the proceeded down the dock towards the harbor.  Marishka was a head taller than most human men, but with the lithe, spindly build of an elf.  Her skin was a darker grey than most orcs, and though her pointed canines weren’t as fierce as an orc’s tusks her utterly alien appearance made even the burly orcs step aside for her.

Of course, they may also have been clearing the way for the massive Minotaur and Centaur that were following closely behind.  The Minotaur was massive, even larger than an orc with the head of a bull and a strong, muscular body.  The Centaur had the body of a horse and the torso of a Mincenntti, making him quite tall but not quite as physically imposing as the Minotaur.

“You haven’t even seen the castle yet.”  Augras smiled at the memory of Greenthorn Castle.  He always enjoyed coming here as a child; even if it always left Trogar in a bad mood.  His grandmother was always a delight, and never seemed to hold it against him that he didn’t look like a full blooded orc.  “It’s amazing what you can do with ingenuity and cleverness.”

“Those same attributes serve you well in the higher arts too.” She added.  “But I do look forward to seeing what wonders your people have built.” 

He could tell the Mincenntti woman was being genuine.  For all the wonders her own people created, they still lived in stone huts and used stone tools.  Seeing the craftsmanship resulting from steel and iron was a magic in its own right.

They were met at the end of the harbor by his uncle Rodarek, the second youngest of all Jeanette’s children.  “Augras!  Is that really you after all these years?”  The orc craned his neck to look up at him.  “You’ve seen to grow into yourself, finally.”

“I was reforged during my journeys, uncle.  I’m no longer the child I was when I left.”

Rodarek looked from Augras to the Mincenntti, and then to the Minotaur and Centaur following behind.  “I can see that.  Who are your friends?”

“I’ll introduce them at the castle, Uncle.  It will get tiresome if I have to keep repeating myself.”  Augras smiled lightly as Marishka continued to look about the city.

“Heh, you don’t think Dorian is going to just let your friends waltz into the castle into the Queen’s presence, do you?”

A knowing smile crossed his lips.  “He might object, but I don’t think Grandmother will let him.  Plus, he’ll want to see them firsthand, and hear what I have to say.  I’ve brought victory home with me, uncle.”

If Rodarek had anything to say to that, he kept it to himself.  Which pleased Augras well enough, as he knew he was going to have to tell his story numerous times in the coming weeks.  Augras had imagined many times what it would be like when he returned to the city.  Sometimes he imagined cheering crowds as he showered them in the riches of the south.  Others he was a fearsome sorcerer riding in on black clouds.  But the truth was more satisfying.  People simply watched in awe as he led his procession towards the castle.  Oh, he knew that they were in awe of his companions; he didn’t have any delusions about that.  But they were his retainers, and being the loan familiar figure amidst such wondrous companions would give him just the right sort of mystique.

“We’ve arranged a room for you in the city, so that you can rest before-”

“I may not look like my father, but I’m not my mother either.  Thank you, but I’ll sleep at the castle tonight.”  Was that a deliberate insult?, he wondered, I’ve been away so long I don’t know the political climate.  I have to remember that this may not be a glorious homecoming.

Triumph Ch 1

Here is the first chapter of Triumph!  If you haven't read Conquest Ch 4, it is in the post below.  As always, I love reading feedback so please leave a comment.  It will probably be posted to Literotica in a few days, so when it hits please vote for it there!  Thank you!

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Three Years Ago

Waves of the deepest blue he had ever seen lifted the ship high, making his stomach lurch.  The sea had been growing rougher the further out from shore they sailed.  A grim smile settled upon Augras’ lips.  No one had ever sailed this far out.  It had been two months since they set out from Ruar, two months since he left his mother and father, Queen Lyriena and King Trogar of Deznessuian, also known at the Elfish Isles, behind, possibly forever.  No, he thought, not forever.  I’ll be back, and I’ll have proof of the southern continent with me.  Many of his crew had begun to doubt that.  It had only taken a single turn of the moon without sight of land for them to start begging to turn back.

But the ship was well stocked and well made, with a clinker-built frame, an innovation over the usual mortise and tenon joints used for normal ship-frames.  The Sunset was designed by the best Zentaran shipwrights and made by the finest elfin craftsmen.  The fusion of their skills and labors made it the safest, most seaworthy vessel in history. The old merchant who claimed to have circumnavigated the ocean said that it had taken four months to travel from the southern continent back to Ruar.  If he was right, then they should reach the new land any day now.

But, the old merchant’s word was not to be trusted entirely. When one was sailing into the unknown, he must be smart… and common sense would dictate that he would chart down and record all that he might have seen or experienced. For this, Agmar had his Periplus.

He could remember a fair portion of what he had written down on it, on the measurements from his astrolabe and quadrant, or on how long they had traveled, in which direction they had done so and on reckoning the strength of the wind to calculate how far the ship had traveled. It was tedious, but also necessary.

“We’ll make it there, My Lord” rang a soft voice as a lithe form slid beside him.

Augras turned to look at the beautiful human nestled against his side.  Her dark hair rippled in the wind, whipping about her face.  “I don’t doubt that, my dear.”  He smiled and wrapped her up in his arm.  Though the weather was far hotter than even back home in the Isles the fierce wind left a chill in the air.  “It is the crew who doubts.”

The woman fit snugly into his arms.  She would have been lost in the mass of most orcs, but Augras had never undergone the change.  He still appeared like a half orc, with pointy incisors instead of tusks, pointed ears, and the slim build of an elf.  Well, that wasn’t entirely fair.  He was of similar size to the average human male.  Regardless, the very sight of him brought his father great shame.

Even though none of the children of orc and elf changed, Trogar seemed to take Augras’ failure as a personal affront.  It didn’t help that his brothers, the Kings of Zentara and Heste, ridiculed him for it.  It stung to be the fodder of his father’s humiliation, even if he sometimes believed his father deserved it.

Not for any failure on Augras’ part, but for the deplorable way Trogar treated Lyriena.  Mother deserves better, he thought, and everyone will know it when she sees what a triumph her son has wrought.

“Not me, My Lord.  And not them, not truly.  They trust in you, and will see it through.”  Bernadette smiled up at him confidently. 

He had met her in the stews of Ruar and had been struck by her liveliness and sense of adventure.  She didn’t deserve to grow old in the brothel where he found her.  He still smiled at the memory of how her face lit up when he offered her the chance to join him on the adventure.  “I’m sure you’re right.  Besides, we should be there soon and then they’ll have nothing to complain about.”

“Ship off the starboard bow!” Rang from the crow’s nest.

Bernadette laughed jubilantly.  “See?  You’re a prophet My Lord.  I knew you’d lead us here.”  She leaned up on her toes and kissed Augras on the mouth.

Augras sprinted to the bow of the ship and looked out.  The ‘ship’ could hardly be called that.  It was more of a crude raft with a sail, though to be fair it seemed to be weathering the sea much better than his own ship was, somehow.

“A ship!  We must be close, there’s no way that thing managed to make it far from shore.  So the southern continent is populated!  So that much of the man’s story is true.”

“I wonder if it’s a Mincenntti?  The boat looks too small to hold a minotaur or centaur.”  Bernadette clutched his arm as they both looked forward.

“Looks like one passenger, dark skinned, tall, it might be a Mincenntti.”  Augras conceded.  Triumph swelled in his breast as he imagined the possibilities.  Establishing a new trade route would make him fabulously wealthy and bring great honor to him and his family.  “Female maybe?  She looks like she’s praying.”

If the strange creature on the raft was praying, it didn’t appear to be to any of the Gods Augras had learned about.  The woman, if it was a female, was making strange gestures with her hand, and scattering something into the wind.

“The boat…Did it just stop?”  Bernadette looked up at him in confusion.

Indeed, the boat seemed to be standing still in the middle of the choppy water.  “That isn’t right, something isn’t right.”  His boat rocked again as an even larger wave lifted it up.  His stomach lurched and he grabbed Bernadette protectively as cries rang out from the crew. 

The sky began to darken and thunder boomed off in the distance.  Where had this storm come from?  “Batten down the hatches!”  He called.  “Get inside, this is going to be rough.”  A strong wind lifted the ship and made it list to one side.  Where had this damn storm come from?  “Turn us about, get us out of here!”

But no matter which way the ship turned they were battered and tossed.  The storm seemed to rage at them from all sides.  “We’ve got to get out of this storm.  But I don’t even know which way to tack into the wind!”  As he prepared to just pick a direction, lightning lanced down from the sky smashing into the ship’s mast.  The spotter’s scream of pain raged against the gale winds as he fell towards the sea in flames before vanishing into its inky depths.   

A strong wind blew in from the east, powerful enough to pick up one of the orc crewman and fling him into the sea.  Another went down as the wind blowing from another direction smashed a barrel into him.

We’ll have to drop anchor and ride it out, he thought, but how can I do that when the wind is coming from every direction?  How is that even possible?  “Get inside, let me deal with this!”  Augras grabbed Bernadette and pulled her aside as one of the crew stumbled past, blood oozing out his neck as a shard of broken glass jutted out from his throat.

He began leading her toward the cabin, but before they got there a deep, sinister crack rang out as another wave tossed the ship.  Augras found himself looking up at an almost black sky as the ship went perpendicular to the sea.  The half-orc hugged Bernadette tightly to his chest, wrapping her up in his body to protect her as they slid down the ship. 

As they raced towards bow he noticed the splintered deck of The Sunset jutting out from the sea.  That wasn’t a wave! He realized, too late as the ship began to sink into the sea.

****

Present Day

Long, winding, strings of soldiers marched along the beaten road headed north towards the Catabrian Hills.  The days where orc armies moving entirely on horseback were long gone.  As the orc population in Zentara and Heste exploded the breeding of horses for war just couldn’t keep up.

Exactly where they’re supposed to be, Amelie thought with grim satisfaction.  Her source’s information was accurate, at least.  Amelie shifted slightly on the ground to get a better look at the incoming army, looking for signs of a trap.  Her source’s information had always been good, but she didn’t want to rule out the possibility that he’d been compromised.  But the loose formation and strung out nature of the Hesten army convinced her it wasn’t a trick.

There’s no way they’ll be able to form up in time.  Her army was perfectly positioned behind the hill to strike at the Hestens.  They had moved in under the cover of night after the Hesten light cavalry scouts passed through the area.  Knowing the enemy’s timetable had allowed her to slip her forces in undetected.  Of course, attacking the main infantry body when it was so dispersed would likely prevent her from destroying it utterly.  Even still, she would do enough damage that by the time the decisive battle did come, the Hestens would be significantly weaker.

Death by a thousand cuts was often more effective than a single crushing blow.  That was one of the things she’d learned during her seventeen-year reign as Queen of Thesta.  In her youth she had chased after massive, glorious victories.  Now she realized that grinding opponents down was much more effective at sapping the enemies morale than large defeats.

“When will we strike?” asked Phillippe, her principal lieutenant. 

“In a little bit, I want to draw some more of them in first.  Let them think they have a chance of encircling us before the trap is sprung.” 

“What do you think then, when that company there passes the hill?  They actually look organized, Your Highness.”  Phillippe pointed out to one of the approaching formations.

Queen Amelie Honore of Thesta took a quick look at company.  They did appear to be better organized, with tighter ranks and gear at the ready.  Clearly they had a disciplined commander.  “Well spotted, Phillippe.  We don’t want an organized unit hitting our flank.  Better to smash them with the first shock.  Any sign of the green skins?”

“Not yet, My Queen.” 

The green skinned orcs were the remnants of the army that invaded the Catabrian Hills last year under the command of Queen Jeanette’s bastard son, Agmar.  Amelie had swept them out of the Hills and back into Heste, but not before they managed to inflict great suffering on the Tribesman.  She had killed Agmar herself, but his son, Bogor, managed to save at least half the army and retreat back to Heste.

Along the way it had been harried first by the surviving Tribesmen, and then by the Hesten human lords who had risen up in rebellion against their orc overlord.  Somehow though they managed to survive, and they lost track of the army when it reached the lands directly controlled by Bogor’s half uncle Belkor, the King of Heste.

As much as she wanted to deliver some more retribution to the orcs, she suspected they wanted revenge just as badly.  They had doubtless linked up with the main Hesten Army and would be looking for a chance to pay back the Thestans.

“Alright, you take the Falcon Guard and pursue any troops that break.  But not too far, I don’t want you running into their main infantry when they form up.  I’ll take the foot and lead the charge into them.”  Amelie crawled down the back of the hill, and then rose off the ground to don her banded helm.  It fit smoothly over her long brown hair, which was tucked up into the back of it.  The reinforced steel helm was of plain, common make with nothing to differentiate her from the other soldiers in the army. 

She didn’t really need any ornate armor for that.  As the only woman in the army, there was never any question of who she was or whether her orders needed to be obeyed.  Instead she wore simple leather armor and greaves with a chain shirt over her lithe, slender build.  She sprinted down the hill to link up with the waiting infantry.  Three companies of Thestan soldiers would form the spearhead of her assault.

Pulling one of her javelins out of its quiver, Amelie held it high in the air to rally them to her.  The commanders of each company knew to spread out in a wedge formation as the came around the hill.  The organized company they were targeting immediately sounded the alarm as her force came into view.

Having been spotted, there was no longer any need to remain quiet.  She signaled for her men to ready their javelins.  As the Hesten company wheeled towards them she threw her javelin.  The missile was soon joined in flight by the rest of her men.  The javelins rained down in a torrent on the orcs, but just before they impacted the orcs raised their shields.

Some fell, but the orcs were disciplined enough to block most of them.  They began to form ranks as the Thestans starts to charge.  “Follow me!  Let’s send these orc bastards running!”  A great cheer rang out from her men as they surged towards the enemy ranks.

As they neared the enemy position Amelie spotted an orc in the third rank who didn’t appear to be paying attention.  She pulled out her second javelin and launched it towards him.  It sailed over the heads of the first two ranks and then punched through the orc’s eye.  She grinned in triumph as she watched him crumple to the ground, and then drew her sword.

“To me!”  She screamed to her men.  A smile crossed her face as she saw one orc actually flinch.  But before she could close the distance to him a bolder warrior leapt out from the ranks.  She could hear an angry voice coming from behind the enemy line, probably from the commander.  But the orc saw only the glory of taking down the Princess-Knight.

“Prepare to die, cunt!”  The orc screamed and swung his axe down at her.

Amelie had only a split second to act, but with an expert, veteran eye she raised her shield at the perfect angle needed to deflect the blade.  It screeched down the surface, and while the impact made her arm ache the force was effectively pushed to the side.

The orc towered over her, so she thrust her sword downward instead of up into his guard.  The blade slashed down along his inner thigh, and the orc’s pants immediately darkened as blood began to gush out from the wound.

The orc was already dead, though he didn’t know it yet.  He swung his axe backhanded, but Amelie ducked beneath it.  The warrior was quick though, and brought his shield down to try and crush the Queen’s head.  She lunged to the outside, raising her own shield to slam into the haft of the axe.  The force of the blow knocked it from his hand and sent it flying into the grass.

He drew a dagger and lunged for her, but with each step his charge weakened, and by the time he closed the distance between them she was able to step aside contemptuously as the orc fell to the ground.  She stomped down on his arm, and then grabbed the orc by his helm and pulled his head back.

A moment later her blade sank into his exposed neck as she sawed his throat in two.  With her foe dispatched, she returned her focus to the battle.  While she was killing her foe, the two ranks had crashed together, and the battle was joined.

She quickly scanned the battle lines, looking for the soldier who flinched earlier.  She saw him hanging back, weakly swiping at any openings in the Thestan line.  As Amelie darted forward, her sword shot out to the side, slipping beneath the armor of a large orc who had raised his open weapon to strike at one of her men.  She shield-bashed another, and then cut the tendons of a third while he was distracted with another foe.

Her blade shimmered with a crimson hue as the blood of her enemies as she closed in on the orc.  A predatory grin spread on her face as he stepped away from her.  Amelie readied her sword and lunged at him.  The orc raised his blade and parried hers aside, so she slammed the edge of her shield against his chest, knocking him back.

The orc began to slash wildly at her.  She ducked and dodged as the blade sung around her.  For the first time she was actually a bit worried, as the orc had a manic gleam in his eyes.  Fighting a trained warrior is fairly predictable, but the randomness of a crazed opponent could be hard to handle.  Amelie decided to give up some space and allow the orc to tire himself out. 

But the crazed orc, high on fear and adrenalin showed no sign of fatigue.  She scowled in frustration, but only for a moment.  She leapt back with her rear foot and dragged the front as she drew him out even further.  A moment later swords flashed out from the left and right, cutting deeply into the orc’s sides. 

“Well done men, but don’t stop now, there’s a couple hundred more where he came from!”  Amelie grinned at the two Thestan soldiers to either side as she thanked them for the assist.  There may be more of them, and they may be bigger, but teamwork and discipline are something that orcs rarely understand.

****

Princess Jasmara’s spear slammed through the human’s throat, spraying blood out behind him.  “Stay in line!  Don’t let them push through us!” She shouted out to her men.  Between some orcs charging forward and others falling back her line was beginning to waver.  She took a few steps back off the line to see how the overall battle was developing.  Her company had dulled the tip of the Thestan spear, but her company was outnumbered at least three to one.

Already the Thestans supporting units were pushing along her flanks, while the rest of the Hesten army was still disorganized.  If she didn’t do something quick, she was going to be cut off and encircled.  Well, it’s Belkor’s job to get the army back together.  I just have to keep my company alive.  She had two choices, really; she could withdraw or advance. 

“Your Highness, we need to pull back, and gain some time for the King to get into position.  We can draw them in and let the rest of the army close in on them.”  Her sergeant Grakth said.  “Arrows!”  He then grabbed Jasmara and pulled her down and raised his shield as arrows fell from the sky.

“They’ve taken position on that hill they were hiding behind.  Do we have anyone who can dislodge them?”  Jasmara looked up and down the line.

“Doesn’t look like it, Your Highness.”

“Then we’ll have to do it.  We need to push through the ambush, not run from it.”

“We’ll get cut off!  We need to pull back and let the King envelop them!”  Grakth insisted.

“It could take Belkor hours to get the army organized, if at all.  Besides, do you see the Falcon Guard anywhere?  The second we start to pull back they’ll run us down like dogs.  We need to seize the initiative.”  Jasmara raised her spear again and then bellowed, “Advance!  Forward!  Attack!  Attack!”

Jasmara snarled as her men didn’t immediately charge, so she pushed through the ranks and led the way herself.  The butt of her spear smashed into the head of one Thestan, sending him to the ground.  Then she slashed with the blade of the spear.  It skidded across the shield of another warrior, but she quickly spun it and thrust it back under his guard, impaling him. 

Emboldened by her attacks, the orcs surge alongside her, covering her advance and pushing back into the Thestan ranks.  An enemy soldier stepped forward to challenge her as they pushed through the ranks.  He tried to jab with the tip of the sword, but the greater reach of her spear kept him at bay. 

The man then changed tactics, trying to bat the spear away with his shield while he closed the distance with his sword.  To counter, Jasmara stepped forward herself, not giving him room to build up any power in his attack.  Then she smashed her mailed fist into his face, and as the man stumbled back she hit him again, sending him to the ground. 

As he lay on his back, Jasmara swung the spear about and thrust it up his unarmored groin.  Down goes another one.  The humans were giving way to their attack, but not without cost.  It seemed like just as many orcs were falling as humans, if not more.  Blood was soaking the ground, and the weight of all the combatants was turning the field to mud.  If they didn’t push through soon they would risk getting bogged down.  Especially since each step forward they took brought them deeper into the Thestan envelopment.

“Stay strong and keep fighting!  Make them bleed!”  A feminine voice cut through the din of battle, drawing Jasmara’s attention.

Amelie.  Jasmara looked over at the Thestan Queen as she cut down a soldier.  Jasmara still remembered the day she got to serve as Amelie’s squire during the tournament.  She had been her hero growing up and she always dreamed of going to war beside her.  Now it had found them on opposite sides.

“Keep up the pressure!”  Jasmara called out in answer.  “Push, push!”  This isn’t how she wanted to meet with Amelie again, but she had a job to do and a battle to win.  The Thestan ranks were starting to waver, and as two soldiers ran up to close a gap in the line she rushed forward to stop them.  She slammed the haft of the spear against their shields.  It took all of the strength her orc heritage gave her, but she pushed them back.

They didn’t stay blocked for long though, and soon both were chopping and slashing their swords at her.  The two worked as a team, while one was stabbing the other was slashing; keeping up the pressure and forcing her to dodge and parry instead of going on the offensive.  Jasmara knew it was only a matter of time before her luck ran out and one of them scored a hit.

She moved backwards a few steps, then reached out to grab a burly orc who had just felled a foe.  She pulled his arm hard and threw him towards the Thestan soldier on her right.  He grunted in surprise, and then pain as the Thestan slashed him with the sword.

It hurt to have to do that to him, but she didn’t let the moment go to waste.  She quickly turned aggressive now that the fight was momentarily one on one.  Relying on brute strength, she battered the Thestan’s shield until he was turned to one side to brace against the impacts, then changed her aim and swept his legs out from under him at the knee.

The Thestan groaned as he landed on his back and the wind was knocked out of him.  A moment of flashing pain later and he gurgled as the Princess’ spear went through his belly.  The other Thestan threw off the wounded orc and turned his attention back to Jasmara, screaming in rage as he saw his companion had been killed.

Unfortunately, his anger left his guard open, allowing the orc Princess to quickly dispatch him with her spear as she punctured his bowels with the blade of her spear.  With those two warriors dead, the gap in the line expanded and more of her orcs pushed forward.  The Thestans began to get pushed off to the sides as her company broke through their ranks.

As she muscled her way to the opening she saw Amelie off to one side trying to restore order to her lines.  Jasmara tightened her grip on her spear as she considered rushing over to take on the Princess-Knight.  But the moment passed, and she let it go.  It wasn’t that she was scared to take Amelie on, she just didn’t want to.  If she lost, she was dead.  If she won, well, she didn’t want to be responsible for killing Amelie.

A great cheer went up as they finally burst through to the other side.  The hill was open now, and the archers stationed there vulnerable to her infantry.  They were busy savaging the disorganized portions of the army and needed to be eliminated.  “To the hill!  Get the archers!  The archers!”  She began to run forward, until a new threat made her skid to a halt.  From the north a horde of new soldiers was pouring down on the segment of the army cut off from the rest.

As they charged, a portion split off from the others and began racing towards her, as the Thestan ranks closed again behind her cutting her off as well.  Damn it!  The ambush was deeper than I thought and now we’re truly cut off.  Worse, horns began to blow from her brother’s army, signaling retreat.  We’re fucked, she realized.  Our only hope is to link up with the rest of the army and fight until we can disperse and hope we don’t get picked up.

“Change of plans, follow me, rally and square up!”  As she led her company towards the remaining orcs she saw a strangely familiar looking grandfather holding the banner of the new soldiers: a bearded lion; the Bearded Lion of Heste.  “King” Henry Ousten has returned.

****

Henry always knew that war would come, it was just a matter of time.  But he hadn’t thought it would take this long.  For nearly twenty years he had been in exile.  Twenty years of hiding, of wandering, of being denied his birthright.  Now, finally, it was all coming together.  Victory was by no means assured, but at least it would be settled one way or the other.

He gripped his sword tighter as he closed with the enemy.  The old king of Heste wouldn’t have fought with his men, which meant he had to.  The northern lords were used to weakness and ineptitude from their Kings.  Henry needed to show them strength and courage.  Besides, even if I should fall, I’ve left a son to take my place.  Amelie would take charge of the war, and probably come to dominate it entirely.  Heste might become a shadow under Thesta, but even that would be preferable to being the orc’s brothel.

No, I can’t think like that.  Running into battle isn’t a good time to dwell on thoughts of defeat.  Henry pushed those thoughts from his mind and focused on the orcs ahead of him.  They were ragged, tired, and close to beaten; but not quite yet.  He would finish the job. 

Ahead of him he picked an orc out of the line.  A big, savage brute wielding a massive axe.  “For Heste!  For the real Heste!  For freedom for all humans!”  Henry dodged to the side as the orc chipped the axe down and buried the blade in the ground.  He slashed with his sword in response, but the orc moved quicker than expected, and his sword sparked against his chainmail.

The orc swung the back of his fist at Henry, only to grunt in pain as Henry blocked it straight on with his shield.  Henry brought his sword down in a vicious chop right at the elbow where the orc was unarmored.  His heavy longsword tore through ligament and shattered the bone before severing the forearm from the orc’s body.

The orc roared in pain and lashed out with his axe one handed, but the move was so telegraphed that Henry was able to nimbly avoid the blow and gripped the blade of his longsword in his gauntlet.  He sidestepped around the wounded orc and drove the sword up beneath his helmet and into the base of his skull.  The tip of the sword punched through the orc’s head, killing him instantly.

Henry pulled it back as the orc dropped to the ground.  The ranks of men behind him cheered at the death of the orc and rallied, charging forward to punch a large dent in the square.  The once even sides of the formation began to bow and chip away as it was attacked from all sides by the Thestan and Hesten soldiers.

They’re holding together too well, he thought, they must still have a commander.  Well, let’s see what I can do about that.  Henry brought his blade down on the neck of an orc, half-severing his head while one of his soldiers put his spear through another orc’s throat.  He led his core of troops to gouge and carve his way through the ranks to the center of the formation.

To his surprise he found a woman at the center of the square.  One of the Bitch Queen’s daughters, no doubt.  This just gets better and better.  The orc Princess charged to meet him, saving him the trouble of cutting through her guards.  “Throw down your spear, Princess, surrender now and you’ll be treated with honor.”

“Forgive me if I don’t return the honor, Henry.  I think I’ll take the chance to kill you and end this little rebellion on one stroke, instead.” 

“You can try.”  He replied grimly, and began advancing on the orc woman.  He kept his shield up high and his sword at the ready.   When Jasmara probed with her spear he deflected with his shield and kept moving, trying to get inside her guard.  By fighting in the center of the square her ability to create space was neutralized, denying her one of the great advantages of fighting with a spear.

With nowhere to go, Jasmara fought even harder to keep him at bay.  Using the stiff, strong weight of the shaft she punched and hammered, but the damn pretender seemed to make the thrust deflect every time.  He’s good, she thought, and then took her frustration out by redoubling her efforts.  The tip of her spear was leaving long gouges in his shield, and if need be she’d carve all the way through.

Henry had no intention of giving her that chance.  “One last chance, Princess.  Surrender now and you’ll be accorded all the respect due your rank.”  This time when he deflected her spear thrust he chopped toward her arm, and then slashed backwards towards her chest.

The Princess dodged and slid backwards, but then he knew she would.  He was just forcing her tighter and tighter against the orcs behind her.  “Your brother has been defeated, at least this day.  You’re cut off!  There’s nowhere to go.  Your lines are collapsing.  It’s over, throw down your spear!”

“Never!  Die!  You’re going to die if I have to drag you into the Abyss myself!”  She snarled and threw herself at him.  If she couldn’t keep him at a distance to use her spear then she wasn’t going to give him the distance to use his sword.

A grunt escaped the King’s lips as Jasmara slammed into him.  He had brought his shield up to help absorb the weight of her body, but she grabbed it with both hands and yanked it towards his sword hand and continued forward.  By the Abyss she’s strong! He thought as they tumbled to the ground.

Jasmara threw her body over top his shield and pinned him to the ground beneath it.  With Henry trapped on his side, she drew her dagger and thrust it into his back.  She snarled as it struck his armor and failed to penetrate.  She stabbed him again, but with the awkward position of trying to keep him stuck beneath the shield she couldn’t find the angle she needed to slip it beneath his armor and into the soft flesh of his back.

“Aaaaagh!”  Henry screamed and flexed his arms as he lifted with all his might to throw Jasmara off.  She flew to the side and he quickly rolled over and slammed his shield into her face.  He scrambled to his knees and then slammed it into her again and again.  He could hear her grunting in pain, but knew that her armor was absorbing most of the blow. 

“Ung!”  She tightened her grip on the dagger and swung it around at his leg, but he blocked it with his greave, and then lashed out, kicking the blade from her hand.  All around her the battle was ending as the last of her men were cut down or surrendered.  Time was running out, and soon Henry would have allies joining in to subdue her.

Henry wasn’t going to give her another chance to surrender, no, that time had passed.  As the orc princess lunged for the dagger at his belt he swung the shield again, smashing it across her jaw and knocking Jasmara to the ground, unconscious.

All around him men cheered as the banners of the orc king retreated into the distance pursued by the banners of the falcon guard.  And over the battlefield was raised the Bearded Lion.

****

Amelie sat down in the chair in the command tent, trying not to show how tired she was.  Her arms felt like lead, and she could only hope that she didn’t have to do much pointing on the large map that was spread out over the table.  At almost fifty, she just wasn’t as young as she used to be.  But this might be her last campaign, and it was the one everything was riding on, so she wouldn’t let fatigue become an issue.  She had to save Thesta, for her daughter Anne, and for all her people.

“The Falcon Guard pursued the orcs and mauled their rear guard badly, but the bulk of the orc army was able to retreat in good order.  Our estimate is that they’ll head for Dromstadt to reinforce the garrison, and then continue south towards the Warne river, as that it the next most defensible point.”  Phillippe traced the projected path across the map with his finger, thankfully sparing Amelie the need to.

We need to pursue the army, but Henry isn’t going to agree, Amelie thought.

“We need to march on Dromstadt.  The sooner I legitimize my rule over the country, the larger the rebellion will grow.  The best way to do that is to take the capital and sit on the rightful Hesten throne.”  Henry thumped the map with his finger.

“We need to eliminate their army.  Right now the Sandoran army has half their forces blocked at the Hades Pass.  We need to drive them out of Heste so that we can cut the Zentaran army off from Ruar and trap it between our armies.”  Amelie leaned forward.  “Henry, your reign will be best served by sweeping out the orcs instead of getting bogged down in a siege.”

Henry shook his head.  “Defeating them in the field isn’t the answer.  My uncle shattered their army during the second war and it split into a thousand fragments and caused no end of trouble behind the lines.  We need to systematically clear them from Heste, to burn them out root and branch.  The Sandorans can hold the Pass indefinitely, so there is no danger on that front.  The longer the war goes on, the stronger our position.  We have the food; they are the ones who are going to be starving come winter.”

A lot of the assembled shook their head in agreement with that, and Amelie had to admit they had a point.  Thesta and Sandora were the breadbaskets of the Western Kingdoms, and Zentara relied on them for food.  The longer the war continued the weaker Zentara would get. 

“Heste and Zentara outnumber us now, and they haven’t even brought the elfs in yet.  Zentara has the manufacturing base and the ore to equip a much larger army.  We need to defeat them before we find ourselves hopelessly outnumbered.”

“They could have ten times our number and it won’t help them storm the Lsykean or Hades Passes; and once they start starving they won’t be able to support an army of that size anyway.”  Henry countered.

“And if they march into the Angrian March and bypass The Seven Forts?  What then?”

Henry just scowled at that.  Clearly the two of them were not going to agree.

“Well, I’m with King Henry.”  Black Pete, the grizzled leader of the Catabrian contingent said.  “The damned orcs did plenty of damage to my people, as you know Your Highness.  It’s time for payback.  They’ve left a good many villages behind, unprotected.  And there’s more orcs in that city of theirs.  It’s time to burn them out!”

More cheers to that.  Here was another old argument: how do they handle the prisoners?  The Hestens and Catabrians believed that no quarter should be given, and again, Amelie had to admit they made compelling points.  It still seemed wrong to her to engage in wholesale slaughter though.  “We’ve been over this; if we kill indiscriminately, and take no prisoners, then the orcs will never surrender.  It will be a fight to the death, and it could take a generation or more to hunt them all down.”

“That’s still better than the alternative, Amelie.  Jeanette will never willingly abdicate the throne.  She needs to be removed.  And no orcs can be allowed to remain in the Western Kingdoms, or we’ll be fighting another round of wars in a generation.”  He held up a hand to stop her protest, one that he had heard before and expected.  “And if we throw them back into the Angrian March, we’ll have hundreds of thousands of orc raiders spilling over the border.  That mess will take generations to fix.  Now, admittedly, that won’t be a problem for Heste.  It will be Thesta and Sandora that bleed, and Zentara too.  Do you really want that?”

She wanted to curse him, but couldn’t.  Amelie had fought campaigns in the Angrian March.  Yes, she’d won, but that was with the orc Hordes depleted from migrating into Zentara.  If they migrated back, their numbers would be overwhelming and her borders would never know peace.  Reluctantly, she relented.  “I know, and you’re right.  We’re making it harder for ourselves, but better to fight it here and now and get it done with, and not drag it out over the next two hundred years.”  Amelie pulled herself up to her feet.  “But that doesn’t mean we should kill all of the prisoners.”

Despite the Hesten and Catabrian rhetoric, prisoners had been taken after the battle.  Amelie had insisted that they be questioned before being executed.  Then there were the special prisoners.  “Some of them are noble, after a fashion.  We can use that.  Which brings us to the Princess.”  Henry stiffened at the topic.  “I would like to ransom her to my custody.  I know her, and I believe I can use her against Jeanette.  Despite her age, she is still running the war from Ruar, and threatening her daughter with the Abyss could paralyze her strategically.”

“I agree, but she doesn’t need to be in your custody for that.  I defeated her, she is my prisoner.  I’m not going to ransom her.”

“Then I trust you at least plan on treating her as befits her rank.  Such a high ranking prisoner should be kept under watch in a castle, not dragged around in an army camp.”  Though they were on opposing sides now, she had fond memories of her and didn’t want to see her mistreated, which was a near certainty in a camp full of Hestens and Catabrians.

“She had plenty of opportunities to surrender and be treated according to her rank.  She refused, and persisted to try and kill me.  Even after the battle was clearly lost she refused to surrender.  As for her ‘accommodations’, when we seize Dromstadt I’ll see that she is kept somewhere appropriate.”  Henry paused for a moment.  “All the laws of war say that she is mine to dispose of as I wish.  I consider the matter closed.”

“Very well.”  Amelie sighed.  Before they continued, a Thestan soldier entered the tent.

“Your Highness, letters from Sandora.”  The soldier handed Amelie two scrolls.

Amelie took the letters with a smile.  The use of carrier pigeons had revolutionized communications in the Western Kingdoms, and warfare with it.  Now strategy could be coordinated over much longer distances.  “Thank you.  Excuse me a moment, I want to see what the news is before we continue planning our next move.”

She rose from the chair and exited into the night.  The first letter was from The Duke of Lisene, the General in charge of the Sandoran forces.  She quickly put that one away to read later.  The second was from the King’s youngest daughter, Brigitte.  She had served in Amelie’s court as a young woman, and had taken a liking to her bold, forthright nature.  Bridget became good friends with Anne, and Amelie knew that her letter would cut right to the heart of the matter.

Your Highness,

Things are getting interesting here and I think you need to return.  We repulsed an attack from Zentara, but it wasn’t the massive victory that Lisene will tell you it was.  He is starting to try and convince father that we need to go on the offensive and invade Zentara.  I know that this isn’t the plan and would be a disaster.   I have an alternative that I would like to broach with you.  Please send word that you’ll be returning; that will keep father from approving anything that Lisene suggests until you arrive.

Regards,

Brigitte

Well!  She had always known Lisene was a bit of a buffoon, which is why she arranged for the Sandorans to maintain the static defense.  Amelie had hoped that it would keep him out of trouble, but apparently that had been over optimistic.  It seemed like she would have to return after all. But that will leave Jasmara with no one to protect her.  She brooded on that for a moment, but finally pushed the feelings of regret away.  Nothing to be done.  She is the enemy, after all.

A moment later she returned to the command tent.  “Gentlemen, the southern front is now officially active.  We’re holding, but Lisene is starting to get some great ideas and I am needed to keep him in line.  I’m going to take the Falcon Guard with me, and leave Phillippe in charge of the Thestan forces.”  This was going to leave Henry in de facto command, but it couldn’t be help.  He may not run the war the way she would, but at least she could trust him not to get his army destroyed.  “Your Highness,” she turned towards Henry, “I wish you good luck and good hunting.  Phillippe, I have a few things to go over before I depart.”

****

Jasmara awoke from her exhausted slumber as a mailed glove rattled the bars of her cage.  Her muscles ached, not only from the strain of combat but also from being cramped in the confining bars.  She couldn’t stand, or even stretch out her legs in the narrow cage.  The flickering torchlight made her eyes blink as she adjusted to the sudden brightness.

When her vision finally returned she saw King Henry, the bearded grandfather, and a group of men at arms surrounding her.  “Wakey wakey, Princess.”  The older man said.

“Is it my turn to be questioned?”  She spat bitterly.  She had fallen to sleep to the screams of her men while they were ‘questioned’.  “It’s a good thing you brought a whole squad, you’re going to need them!”

“I’m not going to torture the daughter of Turogg and Jeanette.”  Henry said simply.

“The daughter of Jeanette, anyway.”  The older man muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean, grandpa?”  Jasmara asked feistily.

That seemed to amuse the man.  “I mean there’s no doubt that you’re the daughter of Jeanette.  But it’s doubtful that you’re Turogg’s whelp.”

“Oh?”  Henry asked, in spite of himself.

“Aye, Jasmara here was conceived during the war, when the Queen and Turogg were leagues apart, on either side of the Lyskean Pass.”

“That’s a lie!”  Jasmara kicked the cage angrily.  “I was just born early!  My mother would never cheat on my father!”

The brought a derisive laugh from all the Hestens.  “I don’t know about that, Princess.  When I fought in the tourney celebrating the end of the Third Hesten War she would have slept with me before knowing who I was.”

“After my father had passed away!”

“Spare me, Princess.  I know for a fact that your mother cheated on him during the war.”  The grandfather said again.

“What would you know about it, old man?”  Jasmara crouched in the cage like a snake coiled to strike.  If she weren’t trapped she would have struck already.

“I was there, and I saw it all.  Turogg allowed your slut of a mother to offer up her ass and mouth to whomever she wanted, and kept her cunt for himself.  But that wasn’t enough for the whore queen; she spread her legs for her mercenary captain, Gorath.”

The absolute truth and confidence of his words struck her, causing her to clench her jaw and grind her teeth.  “Who are you?  I thought you looked familiar.  Where do I know you from?”

“Don’t you recognize me, Princess?  You knew me for half your life.  I’ve known you since the day you were born.  I’ve known your mother longer than anyone, save Susannah.”  The old man leaned closer to the cage, coming face to face with the stunned and confused orc.

“F-footman Daniels?”  She spluttered in disbelief, earning a scornful sneer from Daniels.

“You don’t even know my first name, do you?  I served your mother for years.  Decades.  It cost me my family, my self-respect, my dignity.  My King has given the latter back to me, at least.  And now, finally, justice is coming for your mother.”

“Traitor!  I should have known that you’d have scurried off to your Master when you disappeared from Ruar!”

“This is all very interesting, but it’s also ancient history.  Let’s focus on the present.”  Henry looked desperately uncomfortable.  “I said you wouldn’t be questioned, but I’m afraid you do need to be tortured.”

“After a fashion.”  Daniels added.

Jasmara shuddered and tried to hide her fear.  “Do what you have to, then.  I deserve to suffer whatever my men do.”

Daniels nodded to the Hesten soldiers, who darted forward and grabbed Jasmara by her wrists and ankles through the cage.  Despite her struggles, Jasmara was clapped in irons and manacled to the sides of the cage, stuck on all fours.  “Heh, you won’t quite be sharing their fate, my dear.”  The footman grinned nastily and yanked the orc princess’ pants down.

“Bastard!”  She snarled.  “Is this how Heste treats noble women?”

“Perhaps if I had, things would have turned out differently.”  Henry replied, thinking of Lyriena.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Your Highness.  This is Jeanette’s daughter, she’ll enjoy every minute of it even as it drives her mother mad with rage.”

“See that it does.  I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Daniels.”  Henry turned and departed, with a distasteful look still on his face. 

“Now then, that just leaves you and me.  Well, and the rest of my friends here, but don’t mind them.”  Daniels reached through the bars to grope Jasmara’s ass as the Princess shook her hips and struggled.

“You wouldn’t dare assault the daughter of the Queen of Zentara!”   She exclaimed, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.  But as the words left her lips she realized how stupid they sounded.

“Oh no?”  Daniels asked as he thrust his fingers against her slit and began to rub them between her labia.  “How much do you want to wager you’ll be wet and ready for my cock when it slides inside you?”  Daniels began to breath faster as he fingered the orc woman.  She was young enough to be his daughter; he had even taken care of her when she was a young girl.  Now she was chained to the ground and naked from the waist down for him.

He ran his hand up her grey backside again, then roughly smacked her ass as he continued to slide his fingers between her labia, stroking over the small hood covering her clit.  “Keep saying shit like that, though.  I want to have lots of good quotes for the letter I’m going to send your mother.  I’m going to enjoy telling her how you pleaded that no man would dare touch her daughter.”

The men accompanying him laughed, and then more hands reached through the cage to strip off Jasmara’s shirt, baring her small breasts.

“Not much, is there?”

“I expected better from an orc, I thought they all had fat udders.”

“And her the Queen’s daughter.  I heard the Whore Queen had big ol’ titties.”

Daniels joined in the laughter.  “Oh she does, I can assure you.  With a bit of luck you’ll get chance to see for yourself before the war is over.”

“No thanks,” said one of the soldiers, “Gotta be all saggy and wrinkly now, right?”

“Shut up!” Jasmara snarled.  She tried to kick, but she could only slam her foot against the bare uselessly.

“Touched a nerve, did I?  How about another one?”  Daniels sneered as he pressed down on her clit and started to rub it faster, making the orc woman gasp out in pleasure.  “See, what did I tell you?  She’s her mother’s daughter all right.  She’ll be panting for the rest of you by the time I am done with her.”

The worst part of it was that he was right, at least partially.  She was starting to enjoy it, or at least her body was.  She had never been married; she never saw the need for it.  But that didn’t mean she was a stranger to men.  Oh, she wasn’t as wanton as her mother, but she had needs, and when they come upon her she satiated them.

Now it looked like the need would be brought about whether she wanted it or not.  She could feel her loins growing moist even as her mind rebelled against his touch.  This was Daniels!  How could he do this to me!  “Ah!”

“You’re almost good and ready for me, but not quite yet.  I want you begging for my hard dick.”  His fingers left Jasmara’s clit and two slid inside the orc.  He reached around with his other hand to stroke her clit again as he started to pump his fingers in and out.  “This is just a taste of what’s to come, Princess.”

“Ah…mmm…Take your time then, I bet your fingers are thicker than your cock could ever be!”  Feeling his fingers sliding against her sensitive inner walls sent a shiver down her spine and made her gasp in pleasure again.  It’s been too long since the last time I lay with a man, she thought, that’s why I’m enjoying it.  That’s the only reason.  She tried to convince herself even as her hips began to move back against Daniels’ fingers.

“That’s it, keep up that brave face.  We’ll see how long you can keep it up for.”  Daniels crossed his fingers inside her, then twisted his hand at the wrist to rub his knuckles back and forth on her inner wall.  “Before you surrender to the pleasure, before your expression melts into that lusty need.”

Jasmara closed her eyes as the heat began to spread from between her legs.  She pictured one of her ex-lovers and imagined mounting him.  She saw herself crouched atop him, both wonderfully naked as she guided his cock inside her.  She pictured it was his cock pumping so pleasurably inside her and not the old footman’s shaft.

“That’s it, take it Princess.  Take my fingers while you’re naked, chained, wet, and panting on the ground.  Cum for me just like your slut of a mother would!”  Daniels began to move his fingers faster, slapping lightly against her labia as he pushed the digits as deep inside her as he could reach.  His other hand continued to stroke her clit, rubbing it in faster and faster blur.

Daniels’ words took her out of the fantasy and brought her right back into the moment.  The vile description rattled in her brain as his fingers slide inside her slipper cunt.  “Ah! Fuck you!”  She howled as she started to cum.  His damn fingers began to move even faster after that, pushing her even higher through the climax and giving it even more force.  After a torturous minute he finally relented and allowed her to come down, panting for breath.

“See?  What did I tell you.  This is going to be too easy!”  Daniels laughed and slid his fingers out of Jasmara and held them up for the others to see.  “Just like I said, wet and ready.”  Daniels smirked and pulled his pants down, freeing his turgid shaft.  “What do you suppose your men were thinking when they heard to scream in pleasure as they were screaming in pain?”  He reached through the bars to grip her hips tightly and pulled her right back against the bar to slide his cock in.

Jasmara snarled and kicked back again, but with the cramped space of the cage all she accomplished was to hilt Daniels’ cock inside her.  “I’m going to kill you!  I’m going to rip out your entrails and feed them to you!” 

“Heh, first you have to get out of that cage.  Then you have to stop panting for my dick.  But like I said, keep supplying me with nice quotes to send your mother.”  Daniels began to move his hips, thrusting in and out of her greasy cunt.  He rocked his hips, grinding the tip against her sensitive inner walls each time he slipped inside her.

She bit back a retort, not wanting to play his game.  Unfortunately that left her grunting and moaning as he fucked her, leaving her not knowing which was worse.  Either way I lose, she thought, so I won’t play his game.  She closed her eyes again, and tried to lose herself in her fantasy.  She pictured herself back home in Greenthorn Castle, in her own bed with a strapping orc lover.

Her imagination had her straddling him, taking his thick twisted cock inside her.  But as her fantasy progressed it quickly transformed with him taking control and moving her to all fours, positioning her like she was in real life and ravishing her from behind just like Daniels was.

“Is this a new one for you Princess?  Have you ever been fucked while a crowd watches before?  All these men here can see your tits, can see your face as it contorts in pleasure from my dick driving in and out of you.”  Daniels began to pick up his pace, and the sound of his hips clapping against her backside grew louder.

“Nnng…”  Jasmara clenched her teeth as she tried to block out his words.  Everything he said added to her humiliation, making her feel worse and worse even as his dick gave her more and more pleasure.  She could feel another climax building up again as his shaft pumped in and out of her.

“It’s been quite a day for you, hasn’t it?  Defeated in combat.  Captured in battle.  Stripped before your enemy, and fucked in public?”  Daniels’ breath began to get heavy as his pace reached a fevered pitch.  “I won’t call it rape, since you’re enjoying it too much for that, aren’t you?  Just like your mother, you’ll happily fuck anyone that crawls between them.” 

The Princess closed her eyes again, though this time not to escape in a fantasy but to hide her own shame at his words.  All around her she could hear the enemy soldier jeering, mocking her, calling her names, piling on to Daniels’ cruel words.  But her body couldn’t escape the waves of pleasure coming each time Daniels thrust into her.  The steadily building rhythm of ever quickening thrusts was going to make her cum again whether she wanted to or not.

“That’s it, give in Princess.  Learn to love it.  Because this is just the beginning.  It’s going to be non-stop, and it’s going to get worse every time.  Each letter Jeanette receives is going to be like a dagger.  Well, I hope so anyway.  But who knows?  Your mother is so corrupt, maybe she’ll get off on reading about how her daughter is abused, humiliated, and ravished.  You think she’d like to hear about that?”

“To hear about how her daughter was fucked in front of a crowd?  To hear about how her daughter came to the sound of her own troops being tortured to death?  To hear about how you were fucked in front of them too, gangbanged by a whole squad of Hesten soldiers?” 

The worst part was that Jasmara didn’t know.  She honestly didn’t know whether her mother would enjoy that or not.  Her mother’s appetites and perversions had become legendary.  For all she knew her mother might find some satisfaction in it.  The thought of her mother deriving pleasure from hearing about all the wicked things Daniels described was the straw that broke the camels back, and she cried out in shamed pleasure again as her climax rolled over her.

When Daniels saw Jasmara submit he let himself go as well, and started pumping her cunt full of cum.  Rope after rope of sticky seed shot inside her, painting her inner walls and flooding her vaginal passage with his seed.  When his climax finally subsided he pulled out and rattled the cage again.  “This really is just the beginning, pet.  It’s going to be a long war, but somehow I think you’re going to enjoy it.”