Fortress Al-Mir

“Master,” Vezta said, sliding her body to one side to dodge the oncoming axe strike of a random brigand. She didn’t need to retaliate. One of the orcs planted a pike in his back. “I don’t mean to question your decisions,” she continued as if nothing had happened, “but is this the wisest usage of our time?”

“That depends,” Arkk said, arms clasped behind his back. Zharja snaked forward, coiling up around one of their attackers. Restrained in her coils, arms pinned at his side, he couldn’t do anything about the increase in pressure as the gorgon crushed him to death. Arkk turned away with a grimace as he focused on the rest of the battlefield. “Can you think of anything better to do at the moment than take out a band of highwaymen?

“I would like to keep Moonshine Burg happy while we’re hanging around,” Arkk continued, watching as an orc took a glaive to her armored shoulder, ignored the weapon entirely, and used a mace to cave in her attacker’s face. “Besides that, criminals know criminals… right? Someone should be able to point us in the direction of our actual target here.”

Vezta peered around, frowning at the carnage. “If anyone survives.”

That was a point. Arkk should probably have mentioned something earlier about taking some prisoners. This was the first time that the orcs had been able to go all-out, heedless of any consequences, since joining Fortress Al-Mir. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that they were taking to the task with gusto, but…

A bellowed cry of battle, echoed by several of the orcs, drew his attention to Dakka. The shortest orc was in the thick of the melee. Her spiked shield perforated one poor man before she dropped it entirely, grabbing her axe with both hands to slam the edge down over another brigand’s skull. With her imposing black armor, he couldn’t see her face. Arkk wasn’t sure that this was the kind of fun that he should be encouraging. That said, it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving group.

He had seen more than enough evidence of pillaging and looting inside this cave, here out in the canyon beyond Appletop Village. Combined with the Baron of Moonshine Burg’s statement that they had been more violent than could be allowed as of late, Arkk didn’t have too much sympathy for the highwaymen.

Arkk’s eyes swept over a set of shattered statues, noting the eerie red glow that his gaze cast.

This little outing was advantageous for several reasons. Not the least of which was that he had learned a little more about how gorgons worked. He could and should have just asked Zharja. Despite Savren decrying her as disobedient, Arkk found her to be quite friendly. At least in comparison to the rest of the gorgon, who were all rather closed-off.

Gorgon petrification was not a widespread effect nor could it be done in rapid succession. It was magic, much like any other spell, that required focus, concentration, and effort. The four gorgon who had come with him on this little team-building exercise had each been able to turn one brigand to stone. After that, they began fighting with their other abilities—their coils and, in one particularly gruesome case, their acidic venom—before they resumed petrifying anyone else.

Good to know for the future.

“Should we not be recruiting at the moment?” Vezta asked, lightly pressing a finger against one intact statue, sending it to the ground where it broke into pieces. “We still need spellcasters for the ritual.”

Perhaps some of these highwaymen could have been convinced to join him as the orcs had but…

Arkk didn’t want to staff Company Al-Mir entirely with criminals and outlaws. They had enough as it was. He needed recruits but preferably other mercenaries, former soldiers, or other less objectionable sorts.

“True.” Arkk wasn’t exactly sure how to recruit for something like that. Assuming Purifier Agnete was willing to help—something he still needed to discuss with her—they had their high-level spellcasters all set. That meant anyone would do as long as they could cast spells. “Haven’t seen anyone here cast spells” Arkk deflected.

“You haven’t posted recruitment notices in the Burg yet either.”

“No. But this might help with that. We’re getting the orcs some exercise. Letting the orcs and gorgon get used to each other. Taking out some murderers and thieves. Increasing the renown of Company Al-Mir.” That last one was most important for recruitment. He felt people would be much more willing to join up despite potential complications with inquisitors if he showed that Company Al-Mir could get things done. “I’m still expecting some edict from the inquisitors or the church decrying us. I want to make sure we’re not going to get immediately lynched if that happens.

While Zullie and Savren had been trying to work with the werecat and Ilya had been at Appletop Village, Arkk and Vezta had taken several very visible walks through Moonshine Burg. They moved through the streets, ate at taverns, visited the garrison, and tried their best to make sure everyone saw him and Vezta. He had even asked Vezta to not wear her human legs. The mobile mass of tendrils were far more notable—and hopefully the subject of gossip—than a violet-hued human.

With luck, word would get back to the inquisitors and they would waste time out here looking for them instead of going anywhere near Langleey and Fortress Al-Mir.

In a few weeks, they could make an appearance on the opposite side of Mystakeen. Maybe pop over to one of the principalities and get some rumors going about them being out there. With the inquisitors running ragged across the entire kingdom, that should buy plenty of breathing room.

“Electro Deus,” Arkk said. Lightning flung one brigand across the cave after he got a little too close. Arkk wasn’t too worried about his safety. Vezta, with eyes everywhere, could spot just about any threat coming their way. Still, a little casual show of force to remind everyone why he was in charge couldn’t hurt.

This situation wasn’t at all comparable to previous fights they had been in. Taken by surprise in the dead of night, the brigands hadn’t been able to grab more than their weapons. Few had managed to grab any armor. Most were human, though there were a few orcs and one beastman—a dog-like kobold. There weren’t even that many of them. Less than fifty.

Fifty startled and unprepared ruffians weren’t at all a match for twenty war-ready orcs with gorgon backup. Not to mention him and Vezta.

Judging by the noise in the cavern, the battle was wrapping up too. There were far fewer shouts and screams. The sound of metal clashing against metal died down. Quickly checking over the health of all his minions in the area, Arkk noted a few moderate injuries but nothing that indicated immediate danger. Certainly, nothing that would require one of the gorgon to petrify someone. He could practice the Flesh Weaving spell a bit more and they would be done.

“I’m also not sure about both of us leaving Fortress Al-Mir for extended periods,” Vezta said. “Some of your recent hires have left questionable impressions.”

Arkk quickly scanned through the entire fortress, mentally observing each and every room. With the majority of orcs with him, it was practically deserted. John and Hale were back at Langleey, at least for now. The four gorgon who had not accompanied him were enjoying themselves around their heated rocks.

Olatt’an and Larry were discussing something just outside the cafeteria. Two orcs that Arkk had not brought with him were eating.

Purifier Agnete was inside the smithy. Inside the forge, seated cross-legged on the glowing red coals with her head halfway up the flue. Arkk… wasn’t quite sure what to think about that. She wasn’t getting into trouble, which was good, but… Was that how she acted with the inquisitors? Or was she experimenting with a newfound freedom that she had lacked before?

Prior to departing on this excursion to track down the slavers, Vezta had given him a brief description of the Burning Forge. Arkk had relayed the lesson to Agnete, feeling it best if the ‘horror from beyond the stars’ was kept separate from her for the moment.

The Burning Forge was some kind of goddess of fire, creativity, manufacturing, and automation that took the guise of a woman made of molten slag, held together by binding chains. In the old days, pre-Calamity, practically every smith had small shrines to the Burning Forge alongside their actual forge. Allegedly, maladies, mishaps, and poor products awaited those who failed to pay proper tribute to the deity while those who did earn her favor were capable of near-inhuman levels of quality in their products.

Vezta had been less clear on what an avatar was, aside from one chosen by a member of the Pantheon. They were supposedly rare enough that Vezta had never met one, even though both Zullie and Agnete said that there was more than one purifier with similar capabilities within the ranks of the inquisitors.

Maybe, by sitting inside the forge, Agnete was trying to get closer to her patron goddess. Or maybe she just liked the heat.

Shaking his head, Arkk focused back on his immediate surroundings. “No problems at the fortress right now,” he said. “If an emergency arises, we can and will return as fast as possible. Until then, being seen out here is probably keeping the fortress safer.”

“Very well,” Vezta said, dipping her head in a nod. “We…” she started but trailed off.

Dakka strode up to them, hauling some human over her spiked shoulder. Arkk stood a little straighter, smiling. Leave it to his field commander to understand that information gathering needed live brigands.

It did not look like a particularly comfortable ride though. The way she threw him to the ground at Arkk’s feet didn’t look particularly comfortable either. The man, wearing a casual brown tunic marred with small cuts and more than a little blood, moaned and groaned as he tried to back away. Dakka put a stop to that with a light kick to the side of his head, shattering one lens of his round glasses.

“What’s this?” Arkk asked, looking up from the man.

“A coward. Wouldn’t fight with the others. I thought about bashing his head in but wondered if you were interested in prisoners.”

Arkk hummed, scratching his chin. A show. Something to put the brigand on edge. “I suppose we can take him into town,” Arkk said, looking at Dakka. “They wanted proof that we wiped out the highwaymen anyway. He should suffice—”

“Wait!”

Looking down at the man-made him cower as the red light from Arkk’s gaze washed over him. “Hmm?”

“I’m… I’m not one of these people! They captured me!”

“Reports in town was that this group of brigands didn’t take prisoners. They attacked wealthy-looking travelers and killed any who didn’t escape.”

“They took me!” he pleaded. “Please, you have to help—”

“He had a sword on him when I found him,” Dakka said. “Just didn’t use it. No bindings on his wrists either. Was in a pretty fancy tent filled with kegs of ale that I intend to return to.”

Arkk looked back down at their captive, who was shooting a particularly nasty look at Dakka now. As soon as he realized Arkk was looking, a mask of innocence slid into place.

“I… escaped during the chaos?”

Arkk gave a slow shake of his head. “We’ll haul him back to the burg. They can figure out whether he is a missing traveler or one of the—”

“You can’t do that! They’ll kill me.”

“We’ll kill you,” Dakka said with no mercy. “We should. I’d rather carry one of those kegs on my shoulder than this.”

“I have a daughter!” he cried. “A little girl… she…” He trailed off, looking to Arkk. Squinting through his glasses like he couldn’t quite see him properly. That wouldn’t have been much of a surprise given the shattered lens but the moment he looked over the top of the rim, his squinting stopped. He tried to stand only for Dakka to pin him back down with her heel on his shoulder. “I mean, a lovely young woman. Surely you’re interested in women? You wouldn’t kill off your own father-in-law.”

“I might if you were that father-in-law,” Arkk said with a shake of his head. “We’ll take him to the burg. Tie him—”

“I know where the treasure is.”

“Tie him up.”

“We have a dozen other hideouts where we store things until we can get rid of them. Valuable things. Treasure, gold, gemstones, and other things that are useless out here in the wilds!”

“Probably gag him too,” Arkk said, turning away.

“I… lots of ale,” he said, looking to Dakka. “The finest wines and… uh… I know where other hideouts are! You are mercenaries, right? Interested in finishing off some others? We’re just small fry compared to them. I know the price on our heads isn’t worth the paper it is written on but some of the other groups around here…”

Arkk paused and slowly looked back.

The brigand stiffened but donned a shaky smile. “Interested?”

“Boss,” Dakka said. “He’s lying. Obviously.”

Arkk held up a hand, stalling further commentary from Dakka. He wouldn’t claim to know exactly what he was doing but that was enough threatening him for now. Time for the carrot… assuming he knew anything. “We’re in the region looking for slavers that might have moved in nearby. Know anything about them?”

“Oh definitely,” the man said with a firm nod of his head. “Bad for business, they are. Drawing all kinds of heat down on our heads. Like you.”

“Know where they are based?”

“I… yes. Of course.”

“Boss…”

“Let me rephrase the question,” Arkk said. “There are three possible outcomes of our situation. Which choice do you want? First option: We take you to the burg and hand you over to the garrison. They probably hang you. Maybe they just throw you in an oubliette and forget about you.”

“Not that one, please.”

“Alright, second choice: You make yourself useful to us; you get to keep living and maybe even have a relative degree of freedom. In exchange, you tell us everything you know. Other hideouts, other groups of brigands, and especially this group of slavers.”

The man nodded twice but couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What’s the third choice? Not kill me now, I hope.”

“Oh no, that isn’t a choice anymore. The third choice is the same as the second except that we find out you’re lying to us. At that point, you’ll likely regret ever being born.” Arkk smiled, watching as the red light washing over the man intensified. “I have a warlock in my employ who specializes in mind magic and can put you into your own worst nightmare. Gorgon can trap you as a stone statue for a year, letting you slowly go insane as you can still think but are locked into place. And, of course, Vezta.” Arkk motioned behind him.

Vezta, hands clasped over her navel, gave a demure nod of her head.

“Wh… What—”

“You don’t want to know,” Arkk said.

In truth, if he didn’t know anything, they would probably just hand him over to the burg. Arkk didn’t have the patience or desire to torture someone for any length of time. That said, Arkk was not above making threats.

“So, what will it be?”

“I… uh… well. Number two still sounds the best.”

“Of course.”

“But maybe we should lower the expectations you want from me. I—”

“Do you know where the slavers are or not?”

The man licked a bit of blood off his lips before smiling up at Arkk. “I know where to go to find them?”

Arkk stared for a long, long minute, not moving even as the man shifted under his gaze. Was he telling the truth? Did it matter if he wasn’t?

Forcing a smile, Arkk held out a hand. “Welcome aboard.”

The hesitance with which the man accepted the handshake did not fill Arkk with confidence. Still, he felt the minion bond form between them. Weak but there. At the very least, he wasn’t about to be stabbed in the back.

“Any other survivors?” Arkk called out through the cavern, not helping the man to his feet even though he was in a prime position to do so. When no one answered him, Arkk shrugged. “The burg wanted heads. Gather the bodies on that side of the cavern and we’ll have our new friend here find the most recognizable and notorious of the bunch. After that, gather up all their ill-gotten gains in the middle of the cavern!”

That got a few cheers from the orcs. Looting, yay! A lot of it was going to be useless to them. The gold coins Arkk paid out were probably worth more than anything here. Still, as had been pointed out to him, it was about the feel of the experience. He would let them take what they wanted. Everything else would go to the garrison. Maybe it would make its way back into the hands of the rightful owners. Maybe it would end up in some captain’s pockets. At that point, it wouldn’t be his problem anymore.

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

“Name. I presume you have one.”

“Uh… Right. My name is…” He trailed off, looking around the room. “Cave.”

“Right,” Arkk said, tone utterly flat. “I assume Dead Body is your last name? Or maybe Cave Raider? Cave Sword?”

“Yes, actually. Cave Sword. My mother always called me her little sharpened blade. How did you know?”

“It isn’t too late to throw you to the garrison, you know.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands. “My name is Edvin. No family name.”

Arkk doubted it. He didn’t bother pressing the matter. As long as this guy led them to the slavers, he could call himself King Abe Lafoar, Ruler of the Kingdom of Chernlock for all Arkk cared.

“Well, Edvin, best get to identifying your former comrades.”

“Ah. The most notorious, you said? You know, I always found beheading to be quite a barbarous practice,” Edvin said, not hiding his grimace as he glanced over to where the orcs were hauling the bodies.

Arkk didn’t necessarily disagree. Maybe it was a bit tasteless to have this man dig through the corpses. Still… “Not my rules. The garrison wants heads, we get them heads.”

“Exactly why I left society in the first place,” Edvin said, snapping his fingers.

“And joined a murderous band of highwaymen instead?”

“Murderous? Hardly. We only killed in self-defense. Anything else is slander, I say. Slander.”

Dakka shot Arkk a doubtful look. She raised an eyebrow before turning and walking off. “I’m going to need those kegs of ale before the night is out, I can tell already.”

Arkk let out a sigh, wondering if there was enough ale for him as well. “Just… get to it,” Arkk said, waving off to the side of the cavern.

“Sure thing, boss,” Edvin said, making sure to respectfully emphasize the word. “Mind if I loot a few of the bodies while I’m at it? Waste-not want-not, that is what my mother always said.”

“I do mind, actually. Besides, I’m sure the orcs have already done so.”

Edvin glanced off to the side, watching Orjja kneel and start rummaging through one body’s pockets. His shoulders slumped. “Right. Of course. Guess they aren’t my kills anyway. Don’t worry, I can show you that my presence has worth. Don’t you worry. Yep. Don’t worry…” he mumbled, more to himself as he started off toward the area the orcs were dragging bodies.

Arkk watched him go for just a moment before glancing at Vezta. “Mind keeping an eye on him?”

Vezta bowed at her waist but glanced up with a look on her face. “Some of your recent hires…” she said with a shake of her head as she started after Edvin.

“Don’t remind me.”