Charlamagne stood up in the back of the pickup truck, leaning on the cabin roof. He held up a hand, signalling to the guards of Cliff Town to clear the way. They recognised the floppy mohawk immediately and rushed to open the gates, pleased to see him return. As the vehicle drove in, they counted the passengers and noted that someone who should have been there wasn’t; the much-respected Logain.

  Arc drove through the streets of Cliff Town, making his way straight to the city hall from which King Obsidian ruled. As he pulled into the same parking space he had last seen Lancelot from, he was surprised to see the same claymore-wielding giant of a man standing there.

  “The guards radioed ahead,” said Lancelot, noticing the befuddled look on Arc’s face which changed to one of clarity almost immediately. “I see you were successful, but I am saddened to know that Logain is not with you. Was his passing peaceful?”

  “As peaceful as I could make it,” said Alfonso. He had relayed the tale of his companion’s rapidly worsening infection and how he had succumbed to the Eye of Gra’shiya’s will. Eventually, he injected his friend with a lethal concoction of drugs, preferring that method to shooting him in the head.

  “It is good to see you, Alfonso,” said Lancelot, turning to each of his companions in turn. “Charlemagne. Isabella.”

  “Always one for words, Lance,” said Charlemagne, hopping onto the ground and shaking his friend’s hand. “Nice to see the town still standing and with nary a green and nasty in sight.”

  “Things have developed since we last spoke. Things have developed since Arc and his apprentices departed. We will meet with the king and discuss matters further.”

  Arc climbed out of the car, still bruised from the battle with the Eye, but moving as able as ever. He threw the keys to Lancelot. “Thanks for the ride, my friend. We’ll let you catch up and come back for our reward later. It’s not as important as defending your town, so do as you need to.”

  Julie tugged on Arc’s sleeve. “We talked about this,” she muttered with a frown.

  “Not until we’re asked,” said Jack, breaking Julie’s grip on Arc’s jacket. “We talked about that too.”

  “What are the three of you talking about?” asked Lancelot, not amused by their antics.

  Charlemagne snorted and scratched his stubble. “They want you to ask them to help, but they don’t want to jump into the conflict uninvited.”

  Arc held up a hand. “Hang on there, Charlie, we don’t want to do get involved in anything without King Obsidian’s permission.”

  “And you have it,” said Obsidian, walking down the steps. He walked over to the Right Hand and each of them bowed to him, at which he gave a firm nod. “At ease, my friends. It is good to see you return home, but it saddens me that Logain is not with you.”

  “We must mourn him later, sire,” said Lancelot. “They need to know.”

  “Know what, my liege?” asked Isabella.

  “Please, follow me,” said Obsidian, turning around and walking back up the stairs. He called back to Arc, Jack, and Julie. “That goes for the three of you too.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Arc.

  “You aren’t the only prisoner we’ve taken lately, Arc the Hawk,” said the king while marching onwards. “We’ve got him in a special room that he can relax in all alone.”

  “The isolation room,” said Alfonso quietly.

  The wildly mismatched group followed King Obsidian through the doors and into his hall. Following the path to the left, they reached a stairwell leading downwards into a dim corridor with a single room at the end. Outside were two armed guards who stood at alert. When the king approached, they gave him a firm salute.

  “At ease,” said Obsidian. “We’re going in. All of us.”

  “Yes, sire,” said one of the guards. He took out a key and unlocked the door before holding it open.

  King Obsidian entered first and flicking on the light with the others then following one by one. Tied to the chair with chains was a creature so bruised and bloodied it was hard to tell that he had green skin. He bore fangs longer and sharper than those of the king, but there were a few gaps in his mouth, and his pig-like nose was crusted over with blood and scabs. He winced upon seeing who had come before him and his hand twitched. Arc glanced down and could see that the bound orc was missing three fingers and one of his feet.

  “Hello, Zhanug,” said the king, bending over and smiling at his prisoner. “We need to have another conversation and, this time, I expect you to be honest.”

  The orc looked at the king with revulsion while Obsidian gave his prisoner a similar look. There was a hatred in the king’s eyes that Arc himself reserved only for his most despised foes.

  “Nothing to say, Zhanug?”

  “Not to you, mongrel,” grunted the orc before spitting at the king.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  King Obsidian wiped the saliva from his face and grabbed a knife from a pouch on his belt. He held it above one of Zhanug’s fingers and slowly pressed it down. The green finger oozed blood and Zhanug tried to hold in his scream as the knife dug into his bone. As Obsidian raised his gauntlet-clad hands, Arc placed his hand over Julie’s eyes.

  Obsidian slammed a clenched fist on the edge of the blade and it snapped the orc’s finger off. Blood burst from the opening, spraying the king’s armour and Zhanug’s finger fell to the ground and landed at Jack’s feet. The young man’s face turned green, but he wasn’t as disgusted by this as he was by the whiskey.

  “Can I look now?” asked Julie trepidatiously.

  “If you think you can,” replied Arc.

  The king turned to Arc and pulled out a green spell cartridge. “Do you know this spell?” he asked.

  “I’m not so good with the runes,” said Arc, squinting at it.

  “Charm,” said Alfonso.

  “Torture has proven less than effective on him,” said Obsidian. “This will let us—"

  “I get it,” interjected Arc, pulling out his spellcaster. He plunged the cartridge into the cylinder and then clicked it in place. “What do you want me to ask him?”

  “Where is his tribe based, how many of them there are, what their arms situation is, and why they’re attacking my town in the first place,” said Obsidian. “I’m convinced I know the answers already, but I want confirmation.”

  Arc raised his gun and pointed it at the orc’s forehead. “I don’t know how long the charm effect will last before he starts spewing lies. It’s also possible he’ll be able to resist the enchantment.”

  “I’m aware, however, it’s more effective against those of low intellectual capacity so there shouldn’t be much problem.”

  Zhanug scoffed and then spat blood from his mouth. “I ain’t tellin’ you a thing, spell or no spell.”

  “I very much doubt that,” said Arc, pulling the trigger.

  A yellow orb of spiralling light flashed upon Zhanug’s head for a second before disappearing. The orc quickly developed a dazed look as though he was in a dream-like state. Arc waved his hand in front of Zhanug’s face and the orc didn’t as much as blink.

  “Alright,” said the spellslinger. “What’s your name?”

  “Zhanug.”

  “Spell it.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Stick your tongue out.”

  The orc did as he was told, keeping his tongue out until Arc told him to put it back in.

  Jack leaned close to Julie. “I always thought he was joking when he talked about a spell like this.”

  “Evidently not,” said Julie. “I think we need to stop presuming that from now on.”

  Jack nodded and shifted his attention back to the scene before him. The Right Hand were all silently focused, not wanting to interrupt the interrogation.

  “So, Zhanug,” said Arc nonchalantly. “Your leader is called Azuk, is that right?”

  Zhanug continued staring into space as he answered. “Right.”

  “Where is your tribe based?”

  “The Iron Axe Orcs camp is twelve miles to the west of here in Greylock Canyon.”

  “And how many of you are there?”

  “I dunno the exact number, but we’re close to two hundred.”

  King Obsidian dragged his hand across his face. “Two hundred? We’ve severely underestimated the threat these orcs pose. We must put them down and put them down soon.”

  “How many of those two hundred are children?” asked Arc.

  “Near thirty.”

  “And how many are too old and frail to fight?”

  “None.”

  Arc waved his spellcaster in Zhanug’s face. “Your tribe’s arms situation, tell me about that.”

  “Dozens of rifles, plenty of handguns, revolvers and a few shotguns. A couple of our men have rocket launchers that make quick work of villages. We have no shortage of axes, daggers, and spears.”

  “Any enchanted ones?”

  “Two battle axes. One is unbreakable and the other will electrify you as soon as the blade grazes your skin. There is also—”

  Zhanug’s dazed expression faded and it turned to a look of horror. He gasped, realising what he had been forced to say. He stuck out his tongue and Lancelot immediately lunged for him, realising what was about to happen, but he was not fast enough. The orc bit down and severed his tongue, killing any further chances of interrogation.

  King Obsidian smiled at the orc. “Wait until I tell your tribe that it was you who ratted them out, Zhanug. Oh, I’m sure that any of those fortunate enough to escape will curse your name until their dying day. Of course, I will try and ensure their dying day is very soon.”

  Zhanug’s head flopped forward as he slipped out of consciousness. Arc wasn’t sure if it was from blood loss or if the weight of what he had told his enemy broke him, but he looked utterly defeated before he fainted.

  “What should we do with him, sire?” asked Lancelot, jerking his head to the orc with a sneer of disgust.

  “Wait until he wakes up and then kill him,” said Obsidian. “Posting two guards down here is a wasted resource.”

  “What was he saying?” asked Jack.

  “Which part?” asked Charlemagne.

  “Just before the spell wore off. Something about there being another weapon.”

  “If it was anything crucial, he would have brought it to attention first.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” said Arc. “These aren’t the orcs of history that couldn’t figure out plumbing. They’ve adapted to technology, especially now that their population has surged after the Arcanaclysm. Stupid as they may be, they are not to be underestimated.”

  “We do not underestimate them,” said Obsidian. “But we have no choice but to fight soon or our people will be too tired and starved to stand a chance.”

  “On that note, sire,” said Charlemagne, “we should deliver some of the weapons and ammo we found to the armoury. It wasn’t as much as we’d have liked and we’re…well, down a car, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “See to it that you do,” said King Obsidian. “Lancelot and I will return to our planning. Join us when you are finished and we will hear your mission debrief before catching you up on everything you have missed.”

  Obsidian and Lancelot walked from the room and said a few quiet words to the guards before leaving.

  “He’s much less cheery than usual,” said Charlemagne solemnly.

  “Can you blame him?” asked Isabella. “Cliff Town is on a knife’s edge and we’re going to lose people when we take the fight to the orcs. It’s inevitable.”

  “You’ll have us to help,” said Julie, nervous but eager to assist.

  “Yes,” said Arc, “but not from the front lines. I want you here guarding the children of Cliff Town.”

  “What?” asked Julie, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening.

  “If we lose, you need to get them to safety,” said Arc, while Jack nodded along understandingly.

  “Alright,” he said. “We’ll do it.”

  Julie was surprised. “Jack—”

  “No,” he told his sister. “He’s right. If they can even take out most of the orc forces and the others break through, that gives us a fighting chance of saving everyone left behind. It’s the sensible approach, even if we’d rather be shooting the first wave of orcs.”

  Julie wanted to call him a coward, but she held back. She knew it was not true and that his reasoning made sense, but she couldn’t help but feel bitter about being left behind. After all, Arc had brought her into Colt’s base without much effort to keep her away.

  “Alright,” she relented. “But if you get killed, we’re marching into that camp and bringing your body back, Arc. Orcs or no orcs.”

  “I’m touched,” said Arc, grinning and putting his hand over his heart.

  Julie pressed her finger into his chest with a frown. “Don’t start!”