Alchimia Rex

With humans being poisoned left and right, the alarms went off. But Dia still beat everyone else to the punch. By the time people were realizing the threat, she'd already commandeered the Politas and a handful of Orcs into an effective force to isolate all humans from the rest of the tribe and put them through anti-intoxication procedure.

Everyone paid very close attention to the healer warning that the humans might die, and that this might be a Vampire retaliation. The rest of the tribe scrambled to combat-readiness, with Urtha only taking the lead after Dia had put her foot down on the nature of the threat, and the potential nature of the attack to come.

It didn't stop the Orc from having Rick thrown into the chieftain's hut "for his protection" and cutting him off from everyone else.

At that point, Rick might as well have been blinded. He couldn't see the finer details, and the doubts multiplied at an exponential rate.

Had he estimated properly how much of the glycoalkaloid poison from the potato plant would mix into the stew? How accurate were his estimations when this was a world of magically-grown potatoes? What would happen if there was some maiden or another with an ability to tell who was responsible? These finer details were the reason he'd wanted Kiara to lend a hand in the deception. But how far could he trust her? Would she take the reins instead?

There was one consolatory thought in the chaos: he'd survive at least long enough to know if he'd been fucked over.

Yet the more he thought on that, the worse the doubts. What if he got someone in the team killed instead? Dia, Monica, and, to a lesser extent, Kiara and… now Eva. Eva was still in a strange position on his priority list.

Back and forth he walked the hut, brain burning, churning through the scattering of thoughts. Had he done the right thing? Had he put them all on a collision course with the tribe? He didn’t doubt at least Monica could survive and escape. But who else? And would escape from the tribe even be possible in the long run?

The hours felt like days.

Maybe Dia had been right. Maybe it would’ve been better to take the safer option, with less risk. To allow the tribe to lead itself and them to just stick around. But that wasn't a life he wanted, and it just exposed them to other threats.

His boots scuffled against the fur rugs, pacing back and forth and ignoring the stabbing pain in his entrails. A Polita brought food to him, any attempt to ask for questions or seek answers rebuffed by the guards. Someone had passed on the command to keep secrecy and any not directly involved in the dark. Had that been Urtha? Kiara? Dia?

When night came, sleep eluded him, even though his body felt exhausted beyond measure.

He wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep.

The sound of movement outside was constant, voices hushed, feet stomped. From time to time there would be a scream here, a yelp there, something breaking. The chaos moved around the island he was trapped in. The currents of the unfolding events hidden under the surface. There could be treasure under the waves, or monsters.

At least the bonds were still there. Even with the stream of worry, stress, and concentration, their continued existence was a singular source of relief and comfort. So long as the bonds were there, it meant things had not gone completely off the rails.

“It is time.” The door swung open, the light of dawn streaming through. Two Orcs stood there, peering into the hut with deep scowls. “Come with us, human.”

Where were Monica or Dia? Kiara or Eva? If things had gone wrong... maybe they weren't there because they knew he was safe. Or maybe they were imprisoned. Under threat? Safe? His lips thinned. “Sure. Just give me a second.”

Removing his drenched shirt for a cleaner one before heading out. Outside, the tribe was deathly quiet. What few green-skins he could spot, they would stand at attention fully armed and remaining at the intersections. They were keeping watch over everyone. The tension was palpable as they made their way through to the meet-hut.

It was clear every missing Orc and green-skin of the tribe was packed inside that singular structure. The stench of sweat and blood coiling around Rick's throat like a noose.

Yet it didn't prevent him from noticing the tingling in the air, the tell-tale sign of elemental energy that betrayed someone using a power or spell. Looking over his shoulder, his way out was blocked by the Orcs. The tingling got worse as he moved forward, until he entered a circular open space. Someone had drawn a circle on the ground, a couple meters across, and it pulsed with a familiar sensation of hot power.

“You are inside a truth-spell.” Kiara’s voice rang out from the opposite side of the meet-hut. It was impossible to see her when he was surrounded by a glaring two-meter tall wall of green-flesh in every direction. “If you lie, the spell will punish you, and everyone here will know as well.”

His mind spun. All he could see were the oversized Orcs surrounding him, armed, angry, tense. Where was Monica? Where was Dia? What was going on? Was this a trap?

“At least let me see whoever is interrogating me.” He barked out.

"You are a man. A man of the kingdom. You've been given your due courtesy." The voice was deep and gravely, spoken by the singular maiden taller than the sea of green. The tallest Orc. Urtha, her black hair just as messy and all over as he remembered it. Yellowed eyes glared down at him between powerful tusks.

"Then is my interrogator a coward?" He stood straighter, clenching his jaw.

That jolted the crowd, scowls deepened, glowers exchanged, but some looked over their shoulders toward the tribe's giant. The voices spoke in questioning tones, some even assented to the claim. "Have it your way." Urtha growled, stepping forward to the parting sea of green muscle and fur clothes, until she stood at the very edge of the circle.

She was truly a specimen amongst her kind, a good head and shoulders taller than all others, her muscles rippled with barely contained power, her arms as thick as his torso. Yellowed eyes held nothing but contempt.

“State your name, male.”

“My name is Richard Cross, Rick for short.”

His mind spun, trying to piece together what was going on. Has Kiara done something? Was this some sort of ploy? Or had she changed sides? Monica and Dia felt like they were nearby, but he couldn’t see them. That made him nervous, doubtful, hesitant. But it didn't keep him from glaring at the green-giant.

“How did you poison the tribe? Who helped you?” Urtha asked with a snap.

Had they found Yasir out? Was this an interrogation to compare testimonies? Or was this a sham trial? Urtha wouldn't just roll over for them. The question returned to Kiara. How much could he trust Kiara's skills and intentions? Even if she was helping...

“Answer!”

The spell. It was a truth spell. But how would one measure truth? Rick frowned. The definition was tricky at best, but there was only one way that he could see it work.

“I did not poison anyone.” He waited for a heartbeat, measuring Urtha’s reaction. Nothing. “And whoever did poison the tribe, I didn't see them doing it." The only emotion she revealed was growing annoyance. Or was it an act? It couldn't be. The anger was too obvious. "How was the tribe poisoned, anyway? Do you know who's responsible?"

Nothing. There were no reactions from the spell. Technical truths and questions didn't count.

Urtha didn't have proof.

"Who did it?" The Orc spoke slowly.

Rick’s lips thinned. “I spent my time in the tribe isolated. Do you expect me to know everyone who might hold a grudge? As far as I know, the Vampires are the likeliest to want everyone here dead.”

It was like watching a bow being pulled in preparation to shoot. Every muscle in Urtha’s body grew taut. He could almost hear the fibers straining as she had to unclench her jaw to speak. It was like standing in front of a cannon with a lit fuse.

“Would you benefit from hurting the humans of the tribe?"

Hard eyes glared into his soul, tusks gleaming in the flickering torchlight of the meet-hut. Her hands were opening and closing, clenching so tight that she'd have turned bones to dust were there any within her grasp. Hers was the look of a titan searching for the slightest excuse to squish him into paste.

And she could do it. Without Monica right next to him, she could just grip his chest and squeeze until his head popped off.

But that was the point, wasn't it? She wanted him to feel weak, exposed, vulnerable. She'd surrounded him with unfriendly maidens and put him right within her grasp. She wanted a fight? He’d give her one.

But not under her terms.

“Yes.”

The declaration brought an immediate victorious smirk.

But he continued. “I stand to benefit because it would prove your tribe is a fucking mess. It would prove you can’t even survive something as simple as a poisoning attempt, something even a human could pull off.” It was a collective slap to the face. Rick turned to the crowd, spreading his arms wide. “You keep looking down on me because I can’t hurt you with my fists. You keep thinking I couldn’t possibly do anything worth noting. Yet here I am.”

The crowd stirred, maidens looking at one another, murmurs spreading across the room.

Urtha moved to break the hesitation. “Being cunning means nothing if you are weak.” She stepped into the ring, towering over him like a behemoth.

“Unlike you? You couldn’t handle the blood-suckers because you don’t let yourself think like a weakling.” He craned his neck, meeting the dark orbs. “You are the sort of person who can only solve things by bashing the problem’s face in. It was because of Monica, Dia, Kiara, and Eva that the blood-suckers were driven away.”

“Them, not you.” She replied, stepping closer, growling. “I saw you during that fight, doing nothing, dying, wasting time and energy from your healer.”

His chest burned, Rick’s jaw set in stone. He couldn’t let himself play defensive, not here.

“The Vampires will want revenge, and the kingdom will hunt you down, too. As things stand, I’d be surprised if even half of those gathered here will still be alive by next summer. Do you even have a solution other than to run around and hope they grow bored with chasing the tribe?”

“Of course I-”

The symbols on the ground flared to life, purple glow emanating from each drawn line for a fraction of a second. Urtha flinched and stepped back, shuddering as if she’d grabbed hold of a live wire.

“You don’t.” Rick capitalized, moving a step forward and taking ground. “You don’t have a plan on how to save the tribe.”

The Orc grimaced, putting a foot on the edge of the circle. “They cannot chase us forever. They have never bothered.”

“They never bothered before because you were insignificant and had barely done them any actual harm.” He pointed at her, stepping closer. “But now you have. How many villages have you sacked? How many humans sold to the Vampires? Say it! Make the claim the kingdom doesn’t have a genuine reason to crush you.”

Urtha became silent, turning to the crowd. “Do you truly believe this human’s-?”

“LOOK AT ME!” He snarled, pushing every ounce of everything within him into those three words. The crowd stiffened when Urtha whirled to glare at him. “You’ve insinuated threats of persecution if Monica were to leave the tribe because you know she is too strong for you to let go.” His voice steadied, lowering to almost a whisper. “Because you know that the worst is on its way. Because the Kingdom and the Vampires will come knocking and you have no other solution other than hope you can bash everything sent our way or run from it. It’s the one reason you don’t even want to challenge Monica’s position as the chief. But if she’s the chief, then I am the damn war-king.”

Monica’s roar broke the crowd, sending a shudder through the Orcs. The Sabertooth was with him. That knowledge, that certainty, filled every bone in Rick’s body with energy, power, the exhaustion and tiredness gone in a flash.

Urtha was split, trying to look between him, Monica, and the crowd. “You have nothing.” She said. “Even if your voice were heard, it would be meaningless fear and caution.”

“Fuck that.” He stepped closer. “The very first order I would give would be to march to Sinco.” His hand pointed at the far wall, as if he could see the city. “A city with walls, proper walls, defensible walls. None could attack us brazenly. We would have good damn food for a change, not slop from a boiling bucket. We would have access to proper medicine rather than just make do!”

“Nothing but a dream!” She stepped back to the edge of the circle. “You have no way to get over those very walls!”

“They are trapped, besieged by ferals. I would turn this tribe into their salvation.” His lips curled into a grin. “They barely have a fighting force. They will have no alternative but to let us in. And once there, they are as good as ours.”

“You mean yours.”

“Yes, mine.” He straightened, looking up at her evenly. “The question is whether any of you want to be a part of that.”

The crowd became deathly quiet. There was a tingling in the air, hot air that ran shivers through him. He noticed this differed from the truth-circle. It was like a breeze that was blowing from the opposite side of the room.

It carried with it the scent of cinnamon and apples.

The gathered Orcs were whispering again. The tone was almost… excited.

“I bow to no human.”

Urtha crossed her arms, a green stubborn giant, glaring. She was cornered; she needed an out, a way to save face.

“I do not want you to bow.” He replied with the same intensity. “The blood-suckers stepped on you, played with you, humiliated you. They thought of you as little more than someone to puppeteer.” He looked back at Urtha. “You, out of everyone here, deserve the chance to look them in the eye as you step on their throats.”

The murmurs returned, the Orcs shared glances with one another. Suspicion flashed across Urtha’s face.

“Speak clearly, male.”

“I don't doubt you have led this tribe into battle more times than anyone could count.” His declaration came with nods all around him. “You are a maiden that doesn’t just know how to fight, but that knows how to fight with others. Monica might be powerful, but she is powerful on her own.”

Urtha hesitated, appearing confused at the praise for only a moment. The maiden put her hands on her hips and bent down to stare at him. “Pretty words mean nothing.”

She didn’t want flattery? Fine. “Form a bond with me.” Rick’s tone was halfway between an order and an offhanded offer. His cocksure smirk hid the trail of sweat that currently drenched his back.

“You speak as if the tribe were already yours.” Her words were cold, dangerous.

“I stand in this ring of truth.” He stepped back to the center of the circle, turning to address the crowd. “Monica, your current chief, the strongest individual fighter in this tribe, follows me. Dia, the best healer of the tribe and the one who took care of your humans, follows me. Kiara, a powerful maiden in her own right, follows me. Eva, a blood-sucker, follows me.” He met the gazes of each Orc he could, staring at them as he slowly did a circle, raising his voice. “Does anyone here challenge my claim!?”

Silence met him, green-skinned maidens that lowered their gaze. There was a tension in the air, a desire. Each one of the brutes would glance at Urtha, clearly waiting for her to speak up. They stared because there was only one who could challenge the claim.

He looked at Urtha once more. “Form a bond with me.”

She ground her teeth, straightening back up and looking around the hut. Her eyes were not of ones seeking challenge but of someone trying to read the room. “A Father.” She declared, and with those two words, the mood shifted. Heads were nodding, maidens were murmuring in agreement, the green-skins stirred as if the two words held some kind of promise.

“Father!” a voice called from the crowd. A green fist rose into the air.

“Father!” another chimed in, another fist.

It spread like oil. The crowd bubbled in excitement, fists raising into the air as the word was repeated, louder and louder. Rick did not have a clue what being the tribe’s Father meant, but he sure as fuck hoped it would let him be done with this mess.

“Enough!” Urtha roared, and the crowd quietened.

Her eyes turned back to him. There was annoyance to be found in those dark orbs, but the murderous edge was gone. He could see it, the tension had shifted. She’d lost, and she knew it.

“You would be the first Father this tribe has seen in living memory.”

There were several choice words he wanted to say, the first of which being questions about what that even meant. But he allowed the silence to speak for him, to prompt her to continue.

“I, Urtha, will be the Spear of the Father.”

Her hand slammed against her chest with a thunderous clap. Then the sound came from all around him at the same time and Rick almost jumped out of his skin. The man took a second of stillness before drawing in breath. “Where is Monica?”

His shadows shifted, and this time he let out a strangled shriek as the feline emerged from under him. Suddenly he was sitting on her shoulders three meters in the air. He grasped her hair with a white knuckled grip as he nearly fell over.

The Sabretooth chuckled in amusement, using her paw to stabilize him.

“Rick strong!” She roared, and the crowd went wild, fists rose into the air, others did the chest-slap gesture. The maidens parted before Monica as she took Rick to the other side of the room.

There he found Kiara and Dia, standing side by side on the bone throne.

Monica sat on the throne, and moved Rick from her shoulders to her lap with ease, furry arms wrapping around his midsection protectively.

The experience wasn’t exactly enjoyable, not when his blood was mostly adrenaline and his muscles were screaming at him to either start running or punching things. He was mostly sure that if he smiled, it would come out as a snarl.

“Did you orchestrate this?” He spoke through clenched teeth at the Succubus.

“Not my first Orc tribe.” She declared amusedly from his left, her tail caressed his calf. “Relax, Rick, take it in. Enjoy it. You earned it.”

He turned to look at her, at the savage grin as she looked at the crowd of green-skins like a fox that had been given the keys to the hen-house. A thought crossed his mind. “How does the circle work?”

Kiara looked at him, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “It detects when you are being dishonest and punishes you.”

She was lying.

“I see.” He was sure of it now. The Succubus had stacked the deck in his favor. The game had been rigged from the start. He could see it, an interrogation where any slip-up would be claimed as truth, anyway. “Did you expect things to go like this?”

“Absolutely not.” She spoke with a delighted purr, her tail wrapping around his ankle and giving it a squeeze. “But our work is not over. We still have to find the ones responsible for poisoning the humans.”

Right.

Rick hid the grimace.

“Any thoughts?”

“We have found a few suspects. The one thing they have in common is that they had been strong sympathizers with the blood-suckers.”

So they were doing a purge. To hunt down those that would have the most to gain from having the Vampires taking control again. And pinning the charges to them. Whatever the details might be, he was sure Kiara had them under control. Because nothing would be more convenient to her than ensuring this went smoothly for them.

And he could trust she would see to her own interests.

He sighed, nodding and leaning against Monica. The feline purred, kissing the crown of his head and rubbing her cheek against his hair.

“You seem to know what’s what. I trust you and Urtha’s judgment.” He didn’t really trust Urtha, but what he thought and felt wasn’t important. What was important was to give the tribe the impression of unity under his leadership.

Kiara gave him an odd look as he turned to Dia. The maiden had remained a statue, a spiky, well-armored statue. Her helm was pointed straight ahead, her pose tense, her visor lowered and revealing only the neutral expression on her lips.

“Hey.”

The maiden twitched and turned to look at him. She looked down at his extended hand, and after a second of hesitation, reached out to grasp it.

“Thank you,” Rick whispered.

The Rapha let out a shuddering breath, shoulders shaking for a second. Dia nodded and stepped closer. “This… um…”

“I know it’s hard.”

There was only a nod. She turned to look back to the crowd and became stoic again, though not letting go of his hand.

It would be from his throne of skulls, sitting on Monica’s lap and flanked by the two maidens that he would witness the interrogations. First, it would be maidens, one by one grilled by Urtha and Kiara. One by one, they would be cleared. Or on some rare occasions, they would be pushed into a corner, made to reveal their inner thoughts.

Their desire to return to the Vampires’ side.

Such confessions might as well have been an admission of guilt. They were certainly taken as guilty by the crowd. Seven maidens in total. The gathered maidens were not kind, those deemed guilty did not die swiftly.

And then they stopped.

“That’s everyone.” Kiara declared.

Rick frowned.

“And the humans?”

The question silenced the room.

“The humans are necessary to hold back the feral curse.” Kiara claimed.

His frown deepened.

Kiara hesitated, looking at the room, and then at him. “The blood-suckers killed too many before they ran.”

Dia’s grip on his hand tightened. “We must save humans.” She whispered under her breath, looking at him through the visor of her helmet with intensity.

He turned to look at the crowd, gauging their mood, and relented. “If the tribe needs live humans, then so be it. We will keep any found guilty alive.” The words eased some of the tension. “But we will separate the guilty from the rest and kept under scrutiny.” A sharp breath. “The most important thing is that we identify their intent and anyone with special skills that might be of use.”

“All men are useful for is taking care of the hut.” Urtha snorted.

“You mean like me?”

That shut her up.

“The tribe needs to grow, not just in strength but in skill. We need skilled people and those you’ve taken into the tribe might have some of that knowledge. If they possess any special knowledge, they can be put to use, they and their partners will be compensated for that work.”

That immediately shifted the tone in the room. The green-skins started making bets over whose partner would have “actually useful” skills. Kiara quickly took the lead, calling out to bring the humans. The first one to be brought up was a man dressed in a long green toga made of oversized green leafs.

“You stand on a spell that detects lies.” Kiara declared. “It will trounce you if you do not tell the truth.”

“Would you kill anyone in the tribe?”

Urtha’s relaxed tone caught Rick by surprise. She was grinning?

“I would strangle each one of you in your sleep if I could.”

Rick tensed when no signs appeared that he’d lied.

The crowd broke into boisterous laughter.

“That’s my man!” One voice called out from amongst the green-skins.

The toga wearing man glared, grinding his teeth.

“What did you work as before the tribe took you?” Rick spoke through the cackles.

There was a moment of hesitation in the man as he looked at Rick. His gaze moved from one Orc to the next, then at Monica, pausing on Kiara and Dia before returning to Rick once more. “I… was a farmer.”

“Did you actually do any of the farming, or did you merely whip maidens that didn’t work hard enough?” Kiara was smirking from ear to ear.

“You!” The man growled at her, indignation thick in his voice.

“Her.” Rick snapped. “Do you have experience with fertilizers? How effective were they?”

Hesitation, anger, and calm compliance, all in quick order. “It helped a bit. We mostly used manure.”

That gave Rick several ideas, but it would be something to consider more seriously at a later time.

“And how would you consider the work being done in the fields at the center of this camp?”

The man glanced around himself and hesitated.

“Remember, the spell detects lies.” Rick was quick to remind him.

“It is… crude. The soil is quickly depleted, the maidens pushed too harshly. What few Elves they have, they are quick to discard once they can’t bear the work.”

He perked up at that. “The Elves?”

“Elves are sensitive to the pain of the plants. This is known. If they are pushed too hard, too quickly, too frequently, they could very well cut themselves off from their powers. It might cause their bond to break, even while collared.” He spoke nervously.

“They are weaklings.” Urtha shrugged. “And we can always get more when we need them.”

That didn’t sound ominous or anything. “What happens when they go feral?”

“Elves aren’t like other maidens. When the curse takes effect, they run away to the nearest forest.” Dia whispered at his side. “Once it fully takes hold, they fall into a deep death-like slumber, never to awaken.”

Rick glanced at her. “The nearest large forest is to the East. Do you think it might have anything to do with the ferals?”

“Why would it?” Kiara rolled her eyes at him. “None have awakened an elf from their sleep. At least not within the past three hundred years.”

“You’d know because you’re just that old. Remind me to give you a good dusting later.” He chuckled.

At his side, Dia let out a loud snort.

“Anyway.” Rick raised his voice for the room to hear. “Urtha, preparations to settle in Sinco need to start now, and that will not just involve packing up. It also needs to involve changing how we do things. Abusing slaves is not useful for the tribe’s long-term prospects.”

He took a deep breath, sighed, and leaned back against Monica.

“Consider this man slightly skilled. Have him teach the tribe on the ways of properly managing farmers. Bring in the next one.”

It was a strange feeling. To win.

Rick expected some sort of celebration or… something. Something to mark the shift from where he was before to where he stood now. But nothing really seemed to happen. They kept processing the humans of the tribe, interrogating, asking around, and sending them off on their way with orders.

Most everyone had been farmers, or at least oversaw aspects of a farm. There were a few cobblers, wood-workers, craftsmen… they’d not gone through everyone, more would come.

“You should rest.”

Dia and Monica led him away from the meet-tent.

It wasn’t until they stepped into ‘His’ hut that his brain finally loosened its iron grip. Everything collapsed, almost like a puppet that had cut its own strings.

“We did it.”

“Yes.” Dia whispered as he was brought to the bed. “And it’s only going to get harder from here.”