Triumph Ch 16

Brigitte didn’t know whether it was light or dark outside, and it really didn’t matter.  It was dark in her stall; the only light she saw was the pale flickering of a candle in the brief seconds it took for the burly orcs to switch out.  Her neck ached, and with her collar locked to the wooden beam just below her chin she couldn’t stretch it for some relief.  The former princess’ hands were locked to either side of her head, trapping her in a squatting position that left her mouth available to any who wanted to claim it.

Any orc, of course.  She had lost count of how many cocks she had sucked, but it didn’t make her any less enthusiastic.  I deserve this, she thought, for killing the Duchess.  A shudder went down her spine as the slick cum dripping on her hand reminded her of Susannah’s blood.  She quickly banished the thought and renewed her focus on the thick shaft before her.

I knew my Chief wouldn’t approve, she continued as she tightened her lips around the corkscrewed cock as it slid into her mouth, and I did it anyway.  Her neglected pussy quivered as she began to suck the shaft, and she rocked her hips in vain as she attempted to press against anything.  I’d do it again, too.  It was the right call.  But I disobeyed, and I must be punished.  Brigitte knew that Markoz wasn’t too upset with her.  He just had to assert his authority, and remind everyone who was the Chief was.  Brigitte had taken things too far: executing a high ranking prisoner without leave had emasculated him in front of the horde.  He had to set an example.  I understand that.

Brigitte closed her eyes and pictured him, imagining it was his dick she was sucking.  She began to suck, working her lips along the shaft as the orc grabbed her head and started to thrust.  Brigitte didn’t have much range of motion to properly service the long thick cock, but she did her best.  Treat every cock as if it was my Chiefs; they deserve that much.  The pain in her neck grew worse as her head was pushed against the collar with the force of the orc’s thrust, but she endured. 

“Fuck!  If this is what you can do with your mouth I can’t imagine what you can do with that cunt!  No wonder you’re the Chief’s number one slave!”  The orc groaned and pulled her head tighter against his dick, sliding even more of the monstrous length into her mouth. 

Her well trained throat opened easily for the slanted tip, and she swallowed down the sword, enveloping the pulsing meat with the hot wetness of her throat.  As her lips reached the base she fluttered her tongue along the underside, applying a gentle upward pressure as she worked her lips back and forth.

The orc’s heavy balls slapped her chin as he rammed himself in again and again, turning her mouth and throat into a cocksleeve for him to empty his balls into.  His grip tightened in Brigitte’s brown locks as he brought himself closer to the edge.  There wasn’t any need to take his time, he didn’t owe the former princess anything. The faster he went, the sooner the next orc in line could take his place.

Brigitte’s heart thumped wildly as her breath was cut off with every deep thrust of the orc’s cock into her throat.  Her nostrils flared as she sucked in deep breaths at every opportunity to keep herself steady as she brought him further along until he finally exploded in her mouth, flooding her throat with his sticky seed.  Her swollen, pregnant belly gurgled as she swallowed down another load, adding it to the churning mix in her stomach.

The orc pulled his shaft out and left without a word, quickly replaced by the next orc, and then another.  Hours passed as her mouth was abused, and as her stomach filled with seed she started to dribble it out of her mouth rather than swallow.  Taking a cue from this, the orcs began to decorate her face and tits with their cum, soaking her hair and painting her fair sun kissed skin back to milky paleness their seed.  Finally the last orc dropped his seed on her forehead, where it quickly dripped down over her eyes.  When the spurts stopped he unlocked her hands and collar and led her from the stall.

Brigitte’s head was still swimming as she stepped out of the stables and into the courtyard.  The cum coating her eyelids shielded them from the bright sun, which was something of a blessing.  Cum seeped down her body, and the oppressive smell of heady orc jizz filled her nostrils, making it difficult for her to breathe.  I need to bathe.  Desperately.  She began making her way towards the former Duchess’ manse to clean herself. 

A hot sticky mess coated her fingers as she tried to clear the semen away from her face.  She instinctively brought the digits to her lips and licked the creamy goo off.  Swallowing even more seed made her belly gurgle as the already full gullet rebelled against ingesting even more of the orc cum.  The discomfort in her belly was momentarily relieved as she burped, though the released gasses brought the taste of orc ejaculate to her mouth once more.

It seemed like everyone she passed was looking at her, some with amusement, some with disgust.  Brigitte held her chin high, and with every orc she passed, she wondered if his dick had been in her mouth.  As she strolled by a group of captive human women her heart leapt and she had to do a double take as she saw Susannah walking passed her in chains.

It’s not her, it can’t be!  And it wasn’t, just some other former noblewoman who bore a passing resemblance.  This hadn’t been the first time she thought she had seen the Duchess, nor would it be the last.  I killed her.  It’s only normal for me to feel guilty, even though I would do it again.  It’s normal.  It means I’m still a good person.  Or at least, that was what she tried to convince herself.

Finally she arrived at the estate and made her way to the baths, where she cleaned off the layers of stinky cum from her fair skin.  Well, it’s not precisely fair anymore, she had to admit as she looked at herself in the mirror.  Her skin had bronzed from long days in the sun wearing little or no clothing.  Brigitte cupped her belly as she looked at herself from different sides.  It looks good, in a common sort of way.  But then, I’m not a Princess any longer.  Markoz seems to like it though, so I can’t complain.

After she was clean, she looked at the cum stained remains of her vest and loin cloth and decided to let them be.  Brigitte returned to the room that she had been given after Markoz moved into the palace, no longer ashamed of having her naked body ogled by so many people.  Even though she was more exposed in the traditional sense, being naked wasn’t as bad as being covered in the semen of dozens of orcs.

When she returned to her room she looked at the rows of dresses wistfully for just a moment before grabbing a clean vest and matching loincloth and throwing them on.  Once that was done Brigitte quickly moved to her desk and picked up the letter that had been sitting there for some time and read it again.

Her Royal Highness Brigitte of Sandora,

Dearest Daughter, I cannot begin to wonder what possessed you to take such an outrageous course of action, nor can I bear to imagine what trials and tribulations you have suffered as a result.  All I can say is that I am certain you have borne it with strength and dignity as you always have, and though it pains me to admit it you have taken the most correct action.

The war does not go well for us, even with your victory over King Trogar and the capture of Shropfordshire.  Duke Lisene and the greater part of our forces have been eliminated by the same foul magics which claimed your brother.  I do not think we can succeed, not when our foe wields the very power of the Abyss.

Queen Amelie is pursuing them, but only her Falcon Guard remains on this side of the Lyskean Mountains and they are greatly outnumbered.  If Prince Augras uses the same magics on Orlous that he used in the Hell Pass I do not see how they can resist.  He will be able to hold the city, and Princess Anne, hostage to Queen Amelie’s behavior.

King Henry is no better off.  His army has been shattered, and the King himself grievously wounded.  The last report I received was that they were retreating back to the Eastern Kingdoms, with whatever forces they can take.  But for all intents and purposes they are out of the war.  We are all that remain in the field to oppose Queen Jeanette and her accursed family.

There is still some hope, however.  Whether through luck or clever stratagem, King Trogar has retreated towards our Garrison at the Seven Fortresses.  If you have the influence, and I have no choice but to assume you do as you swayed the Chieftain to attack Zentara, I implore you to convince him to pursue.  We will sally forth from the Fortresses, and if we can trap him between us and capture the King we may be able to negotiate a better surrender.

I do not imagine that we can remain on the throne, but it may be possible to save our dignity, and prevent the same suffering of our subjects that the people of Thesta suffer.  Please reply with your Chief’s assent, and an estimate of when you will be able to engage the enemy.

With tender and sincere affection,

His Royal Highness King Rollo of Sandora

Brigitte clutched the paper against her chest for a moment.  He doesn’t think I’m a whore.  Normally such things wouldn’t bother her, but as she stroked her belly and thought of the child within she found a new appreciation for a parent’s perspective.  But after everything the war is lost.  Brigitte hung her head as her thoughts darkened.  What will become of Queen Amelie if she falls under the power of Zentara?  King Grotok would treat her with respect she thought, but this Prince Augras was a mystery.  Anyone who wields dark magic as he does cannot be trusted.  And what happened to Master Drauken?  There had been no word from him in Ruar at all.  Had he failed as well?

If I am going to save my family, and Queen Amelie as well, I have to convince Markoz to pursue King Trogar.  She sat and pondered how to convince her Chief to fight another battle.  It was hard enough to convince the orcs to fight the first time: they were here for plunder, not war.  How can I turn him towards the idea? 

She sat with her eyes closed for a moment as she pondered the problem.  “There are three things he wants,” she said to herself, “women, gold, and glory.  I can give him the first.  Capturing a King will give him the second.  That’s how I’ll convince him.”  Brigitte smiled as her hand slid down over her belly to rest between her legs to give her exposed pussy a soft stroke.  “It has been a while anyway.  I need to remind him that I’m his favorite.”  They had been refraining from vaginal intercourse as she grew heavier with child.  With Brigette entering her last trimester, their couplings had become even more infrequent, but if proper care was taken they could be together.

She knew where to find Markoz at this time of day.  He would be in his own quarters having a midday meal.  Fortune proved to be in her favor, as the Chief was alone in his quarters when she arrived.  More and more he had been shunning the company of the Chiefs from the other tribes.  Different tribes were not meant to be together for so long, and she could tell that they were starting to grate on Markoz’s nerves. 

He wants to go home with his plunder; he doesn’t want to get drawn into another battle.  Brigitte didn’t let that observation dissuade her, however.  She strode into his quarters, the loincloth brushing between her thighs.  “My Chief, I need to speak with you.”

Markoz looked up, his gaze drifting from her pregnant belly up to the lush breasts peeking out from her vest, before finally meeting her eyes.  He reached towards Brigitte and grabbed her hand, and then pulled her into his lap.  The orc slipped his thick grey hand into her top to cover her tit, gave it a squeeze, and massaged it gently.  “Yes Brigitte?  Here to apologize for disrespecting me?  Or do you need another session in the stalls to remind you of your place?”

Is he joking or is he angry?  Brigitte wondered.  I never can tell.  That is why it’s better to just be honest.  “No, I’m here to make another proposal, one that will be to your benefit as much as my last was.”  Brigitte took a breath.  “But I do owe you an apology.  I am sorry for killing your prisoner, My Chief.  It was your decision to make, not mine.  I won’t overstep myself again.”

The orc searched her eyes for a moment before giving her nipple a playful squeeze.  “Alright then little princess, tell me what scheme you have now.”

“We cannot stay here much longer.  The tribes will begin killing each other soon, to say nothing of the Zentaran armies that will try to encircle us.  You have claimed all the treasure you are likely to find.”  Brigitte placed her hand atop Markoz’s other hand and guided it between her legs so his thick digits spread apart her labia to find the moist folds beneath. 

Her own other hand reached beneath to the orc chieftain’s lap, searching for his rod to squeeze and stroke.  “You have achieved much with this raid, my Chief, but there is one last prize to claim.”  Brigitte’s lip trembled and she pressed it against her upper teeth to help rein in her growing excitement.  Markoz’s fingers had been moving on their own, caressing her sensitive parts and fanning the flames that had been growing in her loins.

“I have won much, as you say.  I do not need more.  I am ready to return home, to relax, enjoy my spoils, and welcome my newest child into the world.”  Markoz nuzzled Brigitte’s neck with his tusks, then kissed and nibbled at the smooth skin.

“We could return to the Angrian March now, it is true.  This will go down as the greatest raid in living memory.  But my Chief, if you want it to go down as the greatest raid in history there is one more thing you must do.”  Her fingers snaked into his trousers and sought out his thick cork-screwed cock and started to stroke it up and down, tracing the curves with her fingertips as she started breathing harder.

“Pursue the orc King, Trogar.  Defeat him, capture him, and sell him for ransom.  Become the only orc raider to capture a King.  Win eternal glory.”  Brigitte’s tongue flicked over her lips, wetting them as she panted from Markoz’s ministrations.  The orc’s thick fingers were probing deeper into her folds, stroking the inner walls as she writhed atop his lap.

A deep guttural laugh rolled out from Markoz’s throat.  “Ah my sweet princess slave.”  He pulled her to one side and freed his shaft, then moved her back to sit atop his lap so she straddled his cock and her slick sex nuzzled against the throbbing member.  “Do you think you need to do this to help convince me?”

“Ah!  Maybe a little.  But it has been so long since I have felt you inside.  I don’t want you to forget about me.”  Brigitte swallowed as she felt the slanted tip of Markoz’s dick slide up along her slit.  A shiver went down her spine, and she yearned to guide his manhood inside but needed to let her Chief set the pace. 

He wasn’t long in obliging her, and gently eased himself into her pussy.  Markoz only slid in the first half, keeping his thrusts slow and gentle for his pregnant slave princess.  The orc gently moved his hips, stirring his cock and exploring the insides of her sex, testing them and her for responsiveness and comfort.  “It has been too long, pet.”  Markoz chuckled gutturally.  “I suppose we should practice fucking in this condition.  You’re going to be pregnant more often than not in the coming years!”

Brigitte nearly climaxed right at the thought of being pregnant again and again for Markoz.  Why is that so arousing?  It is just a natural part of being mates?  Her body shuddered and the walls of her sex clamped down around her Chief’s cock.  Brigitte began to rock her hips, matching Markoz’s motion as she straddled him.

“Whatever my chieftain requires!”  Brigitte rolled her head back, tossing her hair over the orc’s face and then shoulder as she leaned her weight against his chest.  The former princess thrust her hips out, making the cock press tighter against the side of her pussy as she rubbed it up and down inside her.  “Mmmm! More, please!”

Markoz thrust deeper inside her, feeding more of his dick into her sex until the slanted tip touched her cervix.  He held it there for a moment, then pulled back before thrusting in again.  This time he didn’t touch the roof of her vagina, but stopped just short.  As he perfected the depth of motion needed, the orc started to move faster, fucking her properly as he plunged his shaft in and out of her moist sex.

“Ah! Yes!  Yes my chief!  Like that!  Mmm!”  Brigitte moaned eagerly as she felt the thick corkscrewed cock pump in and out of her body.  She reached back with one hand to grab his shoulder in order to steady herself, and used it for leverage to begin riding his dick harder.  The position made her vest fall back and exposed her breasts as they bounced above her swollen belly.

“Soon you’ll have our child suckling here” Markoz said as he groped her breast, paying special attention to her hard nipple.  “The first of many orc children that my princess slave will bear me.”  He chuckled softly as he felt her squirm atop his shaft.  Knowing that his mate enjoyed hearing such things only encouraged him to continue.  “How many do you think we can have together?  You have many child bearing years ahead of you.  Ten?  Twelve?  How many little orclings will you give me?”

“Twelve!  At least!  I’ll breed you an army to crush all our enemies!”  Brigitte reached beneath her legs to Markoz and grasped his testicles.  She squeezed them gently in her fingers and rolled them over her palm as she turned her head to kiss him again.

Her mate pushed his tongue out into her mouth, where she eagerly sucked on the muscular organ and moaned.  She wrapped her lips tighter around it and stroked the tongue as it sat in her mouth, flicking her own tongue all over it as their faces remained locked together.  Markoz’s tusk rubbed against her cheek roughly, but she didn’t mind it.  She took it and him, everything into her again and again as she reveled in coupling with her Chief.

“So enthusiastic, such a nice change from the other breeders I own.”  Markoz’s breath started to become labored, and his control began to slip as he rammed into Brigitte, and started to tap her cervix with the end of his cock as their bodies writhed together.  “Perhaps…ah…perhaps I could have you training future slaves on how to relish being bred by their Chief!”

“Ah!  Yes!  Anything for you my Chief!”  Brigitte cried out as she convulsed in ecstasy, her climax wracking through her body as she danced atop the orc.  Her wildly contorting body glistened as the lights in the room reflected off the sheen of sweat on her skin.

Markoz lifted her off his cock and bent her forward so that her pert ass was pointed back at him.  He stroked his shaft furiously and quickly spent his seed over her backside.  The hot cum rained down on her, soiling her body again.  The hot jizz dripped down the backs of her thighs and into her crack as the orc chieftan worked out all his pent up lust.

This time Brigitte didn’t mind the load splattering on her body.  This time, she would wear it proudly, she would bask in the heat until it cooled and then dried onto her skin.  The former princess swallowed heavily as she caught her breath and her heart raced furiously.

“So,” Markoz said after a few moments, “tell me more about eternal glory.”

****

The smoldering ruins of Shropfordshire could still be seen in the distance as a wisp of black smoke rose into the sky.  The orcs had been very thorough when they left, and though Brigitte did feel sympathy for the now homeless survivors of the orc occupation her guilt was assuaged by thinking about the devastation the enemy was wreaking on the Thestans, the Catabrians, and the northern lords of Heste.  They need to pay a price, she thought, even if we lose this war.  Queen Jeanette must be made to suffer for the horror she has inflicted on the world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always, Princess!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He isn’t the captive of some raid across the border, this is war!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Father, you know they will be orcs, yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really think you will just stroll onto the throne of Thesta?  Queen Jeanette will never allow it.”

There it is.  Augras burst out in laughter.  “Are you the King or not?  Do you still do whatever your mother tells you?  Queen Jeanette will not decide one way or the other.  Queen Amelie will cede me the throne when she marries me to her daughter.”

“You think your magic is as powerful as that?”

“The power of our magic is limitless, King Grotok.  It is the supreme, sublime power that rules us all.”  Marishka said.

Grotok did not like the sound of that at all.  “You assume that Queen Amelie will survive the battle.  Perhaps she’ll meet her end in honorable combat.”  The King said through grated teeth.

“My Lords!”  An orc scout burst into the command post.  “Thestans approaching, bearing the flag of the Falcon Guard!  At least one thousand, arrayed for battle!”

“Perhaps,” Augras agreed, “who can tell what the future holds?”

“Destiny” Marishka replied, “Destiny.”