Orek (II)

Orek found himself in the blackness. He felt a strong slap against his left cheek.   No Father!   "Quit your whining, whelp!" The old man towered over him once again, balded with greying sideburns and tensed fists. He had been almost as large as Orek would be when he grew up. He'd been drinking again. That was when he was at his worst.   Murrek Steele has fought in the Altyn war, and he had never been the same since. His mother had said he was a stern but gentle man before he marched off to war, but when he returned, he was a broken shell, drinking himself down to near death and taking out his rage on young Orek. Just as war had given Murrek nightmares, Murrek gave them to Orek.   Orek woke up next to his fire sweating again. They were only a kilometre away from the village where they were supposed to need the Emerald Eyes to deal with the Slint lad. He looked at the opposite side of the camp. Tzuli was not there, but that was no surprise given their flammability and aversion to the substance.   "Dreaming of your father again?" They knew.   "How many times have I had to tell you to stay out of my dreams!" He was delirious, but he needed it off his chest. He always felt enraged when he dreamed of his father.   "Not at all," the shifting Vrain said as their units rippled like the waves at sea. "But it's easy to see. We know the twitches in your face when you dream of your father."   Orek chuckled, but he wasn't happy. "You know me too well." He looked up at the sky and saw the red at the side of the sky, and a sliver of gold. The sunrise. He had always loved watching the sun rise as he grew up, and his sense at wonder never stopped even in his late twenties. It always brightened his mood. "Beautiful, isn't it? When I die, make sure it's watching this, won't you, Tzuli?"   The colony shifted toward him. "We shall try, though you know we don't make promises", they said with what Orek thought to be some small amount of pity. It seemed even Vrain could exhibit compassion, if only in a greatly reduced quantity compared to men.   Tzuli changed their shape into an ascending tower like a termite mound of the Sandstone Desert. "It is time we went on our way to Rudhill. Duchess Seluny no doubt would be upset if we don't meet the Eyes in time. We read the letter while you slept; it would seem the Emerald Eyes are for the most part garissoned on the opposite side of the hill, but their leaders have camped out in the Rudhill town centre. We imagine they've caused quite a stir." That didn't surprise Orek. Five-hundred and sixty armed men-and that was just the humans!- would not be the easiest thing to conceal, even if only the leaders of the company went into the village. Straining himself from his sleep, he got himself up and got ready for the day ahead.   -—   Orek was now changed into his attire for the meeting. He wanted to look formal but practical simultaneously. He knew Tzuli had been practising their motions of units and feeding up to assume the appearance assumed of the Hu-Vrain aristocracy from which they had come, even if they hated the formality of it. Orek at least liked the way he looked when he dressed. His short hair was shaped upward into a curl, with a spiky middle. He had a white linen shirt and a sleaveless leather jerkin, with a scabbard on his belt for his dagger and warhammer respectively. He had cotton trousers for the occasion, a dark red colour, for he wouldn't be seen dead in breaches. The shield would be too heavy for anything other than a combat journey, so he left it with the pack mule that they had purchased on the way to Rudhill the night before. Now it was the time to see the village up close.   As they walked up to the wooden borders on the top of the hill, Orek and Tzuli saw the two guards were uneasy, and there was some strange noise that Orek couldn't quite recognize coming in further in the village. The houses behind the wall were mostly wood of various forms, with one or two made of brick, implying someone of higher station lived here too.   The townguards didn't look as prepared as even Orek, never mind those who had been in the city, aimed with no armour, only spears and helmets as weapons. The guard on the left, a lad who must have been no more than seventeen, was looking side to side, shaking. The defences were pathetic, and Orek knew they would never stand a chance in hell against even a small army or mercenary company. Presumably the Emerald Eyes has put them on edge, and we're the only reason they even had defences. .   "H...h...halt! Who c-comes here?" The guard on the left said uncomfortably. He was older, but no less inexperienced, a balding, slightly fat man with a thick black beard who it seems had been conscripted to the job and would rather be working in the tavern. "The village is under quarantine until-"   Tzuli spoke up, clearly annoyed. "We are here to discuss terms with the Emeralds, and are under orders that come directly from Margoret Seluny herself." Both guards' faces lifted up when they heard the Seluny name mentioned.   Even among the nobility, the Seluny name was not one to be taken lightly. Margoret was a name few spoke openly of, only in whispers, and her son Donnel was one of the ten most powerful people in the Dominion.   Orek handed out the letter with the blue wolf seal of the Selunys. "There you go, pal," he said with a slight grimace on his face, "careful not to drop it!" He was definitely smirking now.   The guard looked down at it, his eyes flicking through. Orek saw looks of surprise and nervousness in the man. He shook his head and nodded to his companion, before handing the letter with the Seluny seal back to Orek. "Um...you are free to go. The captain and his lieutenants, and those...things, are down in the great green tent near the village hall. J-just to your right after-" the young boy trailed off. This is what qualifies for village defence nowadays? Orek thought. They couldn't defend a plate of cheese from the rats!   "You've got our thanks, you fine gentlemen." Orek smiled at them, though it was definitely a laugh at, easier than with them. He summoned Tzuli with a flick of the wrist and the two of them along with a shy servants girl who had appeared went in the direction of the tent the guard had mentioned.   The village was unusually quiet. The houses on the village had their doors and windows all shut, and there was only the extended fountains in the centre of the road, dividing left from right. They had small juniper and laurel trees and multicoloured flowers in this bit of garden, divided from the road by a straight line of brick on either side. Clearly, the villagers had focussed on aesthetic rather than defence. Who could blame them though? For the soul was rich here, and Rudhill was famous for its ruby-junipers, which were a deeper shade of red than anywhere else in the Dominion, or even the Isles!   Orek turned to the serving girl alongside them as she led him and Orek along. "Thank you for serving us," he told her politely. "What's your name?" Now they turned a corner towards what could be the main tent.   "I'm Dora, my-my guest." I'm no noble, he thought. "When they came, they weren't like the other mercenaries." Dora was a sweet young woman, short and slim in frame, a small, mousish nose, and straw blonde hair, clearly only recently an adult. She wore a lovely simple dress of yellow like her hair, with an orange line. She seemed to be glancing more than a few times at Orek's arms, he noticed, though she turned away when he looked back. Oh, so I *am* her type, he thought. Perhaps if he had some spare time here, he could-no, he had to focus on his mission first! Any pleasures would have to wait.   "Is that the 'great' tent over there?" He pointed to a beige coloured thing, only five metres wide ahead of them.   Dora shook her head. "No, that is merely some traders coming through and staying there because they can't afford coin for the inn." A crashing noise was heard in the distance. Orek paused.   Tzuli raised their gait to hear the situation better. "We think something is going on at the camp." Orek agreed. "Well, I think we'll see what these folk are like when we tell them of the mission, I hope they aren't the bad type of mercenaries." Orek definitely had experience with those. For a couple of years, when he had first reached manhood, he had rode with the Yellow Spears, who had more than their fair share of crazed killers and rapists in it. They had taught him much in those years, particularly the cruelty of man, or any of the races. But one day it was too much. Orek could not knowingly work with scum like the men who had brutalised his first love. Oh Taizel, he thought. What could have been...when we meet again, Babur, you'll rue the day you betrayed me.   "This way, my sir, and...Hu-Vrain." She has clearly not seen one of Tzuli's race in person before. "Before you is the Great Tent the Emerald captains are meeting inside." Dora pointed ahead towards a much greater tent than Orek had seen even in small circuses in the cities. Occupying the centre of the village, the Emerald's mobile base must have been over six metres tall and more than thirty wide, wide enough so that the horse, ass and two camels chained outside seemed small in comparison. It was a deep and dark green overall, but the two eyes at the door were as bright as their namesake jewel, staring at any who wished to enter.   "It certainly doesn't fail to impress." Orek looked up in awe. He felt a smile crawl onto his face as he looked up.   "Better than what the Yellow Spears had to offer?" Tzuli retorted, shifting into a shape similar to that of a woman. Sometimes Tzuli enjoyed taking the shape of a man, woman, or a Yamachai while conversing with others. They weren't big or well fed enough to emulate a centaur or horse, as Vrain outlaws might do. Nevertheless, Dora clearly looked alarmed at Tzuli's new shape. Suddenly the horse began to panic from the gate, as if trying to pull itself away from a low rumbling. A low rumbling...   Then the rumbling sound came again, this time much louder, and the girl got nervous. She was looking around, muttering something under her breath. A great, inhuman bellow came from the left of the tent behind the houses! Then out from behind a house near the Great tent came a black mass at deceptive speed. It stalled to a halt and bellowed at the top of its lungs just four metres ahead of Orek.   The girl ran away, but Orek was stood in awe at it. With four pillar like legs, flapping ears, sparse hair, four equally long tusks from its mouth, and a long trunk like an arm, it could only be a bull tusker!   "It's different." Orek said out loud. He didn't hear what Tzuli replied with, but it was probably 'indeed' or something like that. He had heard tussles were grey with sparse brown hair, but this beast was all black for both its skin and sparse fur, with piercing green eyes. It must have been four metres tall at the shoulder! The beast's head turned to its side. Orek had seen baby tuskers in the circuses of Umbroke and Forkton itself, but never a fully grown beast! It was a more spectacular sight than he could have dreamed of!   Behind came another tusker, but this one too was strange, perhaps even stranger! It's skin was white with a pink hue to it, and it's eyes red. One of its tusks was broken, and another had part of some broken bench hanging from it. It trumpeted after its friend or brother, with a grunt in response.   "Well, this is new." Tzuli proclaimed as they shaped into a more combat ready form. Orek was about to draw his hammer when an unusual voice came from the tent.   "Monchinka!" A great man shouted as he came out from the tent, with not a sword or spear, but a bell. The man was bald of head, clean shaven, as broad shouldered as an ox, and very tall; taller even than Orek. He must have been at least two metres tall, if not more. "Sorga de smirataz!" He wore a leather vest, hardly concealing his great muscles, and a belt with a dagger and a sheath for his curved sword. Orek knew the man could only have been Vulgar- and High Vulgar at that! It was a shame he didn't know a single word of that tongue-any dialect of it.   "Hey there!" Orek called out. "You seem to be having a tusker problem here!" Tzuli turned towards him, emitted what could could best be described as a sigh and translated to Vulgar, which they had now doubt been educated in. The man approached. He walked right up to Orek, almost face to face. His eyes were grey, and he'd clearly seen a lot in his years. His chest had scars all over it underneath his vest. Damn, he thought. So this is what it's like for everyone else!   "You don't know a word of Vulgar? I thought you Phurzics were all about knowing the world in all its flavours." He sniggered. The beasts were squaring each other up behind him. Without looking away, the man rung his bell hard and loud, so loud Orek winced. The two beasts stopped immediately, and calmed down. They stared down for a couple more moments. "And your friend? One of them?" Orek knew the Vulgar were not friendly to the Vrain race, not after the Black Hive had ravaged their lands in their founding days. The man glanced at Tzuli and back to him. Orek rarely felt fear for an opponent, but this was one of those times...   "Hahahahha!" The man roared in laughter. "Don't worry, 'Thunderbane-" shit, he knows me? "I have no ill will to your friend, or to you." He let out a smile. "My name is Syrbii, and I'm happy to welcome the man who killed the 'Thunderblade' into my tent. Well, not my tent yet, but we'll see." He put his shoulder around Orek, and called for Tzuli to follow, crawling in a rolling motion to the tent entrance.   "So...Syrbii," Orek started. "How did you get two tuskers following you around? They're normally quiet hard to find." He pulled a joke. "Did you steal them from the emperor's collection or something?" He let out a little chuckle.   "In a sense, yes, actually!" Syrbii led him up to the entrance. "I was young, not yet wised up to the brutality of life and war. The Czar Bogir, then only a prince, wanted a special tusker for his menagerie. Some poachers had killed their herd for ivory and to find beasts to tame for the imperial army. They saw an albino and a black one and saw their chance! The boys were still clinging to their mothers side, even as a spear hung from her eye. I killed those heartless bastards, and took the boys into my care, tamed them without beatings or the whip. The black one is called Mikhrial, and the white one called Nikolai, and they've been like sons to me ever since." He let out a hand to stroke Nikolai's side. "I can understand violence and cruelty towards our fellow men, but never to animals like this."   "A heartwarming story indeed." Tzuli spoke as they let out a tentacle to feel Mikhrail's leg. "We've seen tuskers before, but not ones of these colours. We guess it's not surprising that you don't share your Empire's hatred for our kind." Syrbii smiled, and opened the tent, signalling them in. Orek was the first to step in.   It was surprisingly spacious inside, and his first sight walking in was four soldiers in full chainmail armour, mostly silver with bright green cloaks doing push-ups, with a Yamachai of all things watching over them, in black scale armour with a green tint, and twin blades-the agility of his race gave them an edge at this. He had a missing ear, and instead of the silver skin and gold eyes his kind were known for, he had the same colour scheme as Nikolai; an albino. He looked up at Orek with a cold gaze, staring at the newcomer before resuming to disciplining the rebellious soldiers.   Orek looked around. Similar scenes with officers inspecting equipment, whipping dissenters, or checking through papers were seen before Syrbii took him and Tzuli to the head table.   There were seven other seats besides their own, four of which were occupied. The seat opposite Orek was the head seat in the middle, which was empty. Tzuli was on his left, and Syrbii on their left, but to Orek's right was a woman like none Orek had ever seen. Scarred beyond belief, and with an appearance of the east, her hair was jet black, her eyes a dark green, and her lips thin and torn at the bottom. She stared at him without blinking.   At the right head of the table was a man with long blond hair tied in dreadlocks and an even longer braded beard, probably in his thirties by the look of him. His skin though was a copper colour, and this, along with his puffed-up shirt and breaches, suggested he came from the Republic of Illustrio, the most prosperous region for trade in the Dominion. At the opposite side was a young man, who seemed just seventeen or eighteen, with a mop of straight black hair and blue eyes, though whereas Orek's had life in them like the ocean, the youths seemed cold and distant, like the ice of the frozen south. He looked with some level of suspicion at Orek as he sat down.   "So you're the newcomers?" Said another. This one was a centaur, who didn't so much sit on the chair, but leaned on it. His hair on his head and his lower body was now grey, and he grew a long white beard like a wise wizard out of some children's story. Maybe he'll conjur some cheap tricks, or launch fireballs to burn that Dayle shit for us. "Well," The centaur has a low and gravelly voice, a sign of both his age and years of service-"I think our grand captain shall be here soon." He sent up a hand and shouted. "Kiyaribo, you are wanted here!" The albino Yamachai came to sit in one of the empty seats, next to a figure who Orek couldn't make out, their face covered behind a cowl and bandages.   "I see your friend has made himself at home, Syrbii." Kiyaribo did not seem impressed by him. "This isn't some little skirmish we're talking about, you know that?" He spoke directly to Orek. Tzuli was silent. The albino continued. "Any steps out of line with this business and I'll take off your head!" He looked up and down and got out one of his blades. "Assuming I don't do it just now." The others at the table looked a mix of concerned and simply annoyed. Damn this, Orek thought as he stood up.   "You can try." His voice cold as stone, looking Kiyaribo right in the eyes. "But even if you succeed, you'll have scuppered your chance to a very expansive contract, and you'll have earned the wrath of the Selunys. Killing a Seluny envoy? Well, you'd be lucky if they leave anything of you that even the rats would touch! So go on. Take my head with those pretty little blades of yours, and we'll see what your balls are made of." The glare between them felt as if it lasted minutes, but it probably only lasted a moment or two, before Kiyaribo sat down again and put his weapon away. A sigh of relief could be heard, though Orek didn't see who.   "Well, it seems the captain-general himself has arrived." The Old centaur said. Out of a tent-within a tent, came the man who clearly led the group. "Orek 'Thunderbane' Steele, meet Captain-General Syman Kyne." Now right in front of Orek was his temporary commanding officer.   Kyne was a tall but slim man in frame, with short and spiky black hair, a thin but strong beard around his mouth. thin lips, a slightly crooked nose and an eyepatch over his left eye. His remaining eye was a light hazel that pierced, giving the man an intense, almost animalistic look to him. He was wearing a long leather coat all black, and on his sheath was a silver blade with a blue tint, that Orek had only seen once before...   "Well, well, well, so you're the man who killed that nut with the kineticyst knife?" He withdrew his sword. "Got one like it, but better myself." I bloody knew it! Nevertheless, you did the world a favour when you killed that pondscum, but now, you're here on orders from Seluny?"   Orek replied. "Well we're here from a letter sent by Anthony Hotzyll, who I know works in-"   Kyne cut him off. Gods, I hate it when people do that. "-on behalf of Margoret. Yeah, I know of him, though I can't say I've met the fella. Seems a bit slimy if you ask me, or at least that's what my own contact said." He gave a handout. "Alright then, let's see it!" Orek did that. The man's one eye looked up and down the page at rates Orek could only dream of. He had been forced to partially teach himself to read using Tzuli's aristocratic heritage and stolen books from noble warriors he had slain in previous battles. The fact Kyne knew so well was enviable. He handed it back.   "Well, we know what we're doing now, don't we? I've seen the Slint property before. I've worked for Dayle's father five years back, where I met Tzuli. They've snuck around and scouted the place out before, so they can be of use."   Tzuli retorted. "It had been some years since we last scouted, and our memory may not be fully trustworthy."   Symon glanced at both of them. "It's better than what we have, so far." He got up from his chair and spoke to the others. "So, our mission is simple. We sneak into the estate, disguised as a gang of petty crooks and thieves, we kill the guards, we give Dayle Slint a nasty death, and we get out. Then we can sit back and relax with Seluny cash in our pockets and a very angry Papa Slint not knowing what hit him. Any questions?" He turned back and sat down before a hand was raised.   "How do we find disguises?" The woman asked with an accent Orek had never before encountered. "Wouldn't it be suspicious for so many purchases to occur?"   The person with bandages moved in their seat and whispered to Symon. He spoke up. "We'll have that covered. Mob and outlaw disguises are cheap, and those outfits from outlaws we've killed in the past can come in handy. Not as cheap as I'd have liked though..." Symon said as he trailed off with a grimace. "Now, I think it's time that our new friends were introduced to my fellow captains." He got up and signalled to a young woman. "Hey, Alice, could you get us all some mead please?" The young white haired girl Alice nodded and went out of the room. He then pointed directly to Orek.   "This, ladies and gentleman, as you may or may not know, is Orek Steele, the 'Thunderbane' of the Porzi Mountains, who slew the 'thunder-blade' outlaw on the base of Mount Zigrob itself! Congratulated with a home by the Magister of Voshia herself! How many mercenaries in all of the Isles can say that?" He almost shouted these last lines. Orek wasn't sure what he was boasting for here. "He's proven himself a capable fighter, and he's our immediate contact to the Selunys." He then walked to the left. "And this swarm is the Head-Hunter of Hezun, Tzuliifazniz-bloody hell, I'm not going to even try pronouncing the rest of that! We've never had a Vrain among us, at least not in my lifetime, but I'm happy to start anew."   Tzuli's frame manoeuvred in the shape of a bow. "You are quite welcome, we suppose." Symon turned to Syrbii now.   "You've already met Syrbii, the brute of the group, and the herder of our pet tuskers, Mikrael and Nikolai, but did you know that he's fought in fifteen battles? Five in his homeland, three in the Dominion, two in the South, one in Holtz, one in Xu and three in the east? Not like an archer or spearman either, he's fought up right up close too! Hardly seen a more fierce fighter in close quarters! He's a hard buggar, which is why he's our beserker."   Syrbii bowed. "It would never have been possible if it weren't for you people, honestly. You gave me and the boys home when none of the others would." He sat down again.   Symon continued. "Vai Luku here was a human slave in the Silver Sun, who cut her master's throat as he slept in his stable. We found her in my second trip east to deal with an uprising, as they'd rather risk my blood than theirs. I found Luku making a living commanding a gang of thugs, and then I invited them here. Her friends now serve as some of my most loyal pikemen here." She only glanded back at Symon a couple of times, mostly looking warily at Orek and Tzuli. Clearly it would take much time to warm up to this stone cold former slave. "Her skill in these situations on the ground means she makes our current spymaster, and she can figure out what is going on in the enem camps in no time, or figure out any dissent in our own." Kyne now moved on.   "It sounds like you've already made friends with my friend Kiyaribo here, and he with you." He looked between them. "Or maybe not." He cleared his throat. Well, Kiyaribo is the fastest swordsman of any race I've seen in all my life. He may look young by our standards, but he's the oldest one here, and the only one to have served alongside my great-grandfather back when this company was founded. Being an albino and a rider quickly got him kicked out of home n' all that, so he got'ere with us, and he's been training our boys ever since. He leads his own division of Yamachai cavalry in the camps as well. It'd be best to stay on his good side if I were you." Well, I've ruined that opportunity, haven't I, Orek thought.   "I seem harsh to you, 'Thunderbane'-" Kiyaribo notes, "-but in my years, it is always necessary to be harsh in this field of business, and I've come to expect the unexpected. I always think it's best to judge character in this situation." His ears pricked forward like a cat's, in a way that creeped Orek out quite a bit. "Sometimes acting aggressively to newcomers can tell a lot about how loyal my men are."   Orek took offence. "Your men, eh? That's an interesting way of putting it." Symon grimaced again.   Kiyaribo grinned. "My point exactly."   "Well, well, well, aren't you two lovebirds getting on?" The blond snickered, with laughs going all around. Even Symon chuckled a bit. Clearly he didn't take his job too seriously. Orek wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.   "Anyway,-" Symon continued, "-our jokester over here is Riguoli Velcinio, third son of the old First Citizen of Illustrio. He may have been raised with a silver spoon in his hand-"   "Gold, actually!" Riguoli interceded.   "Ahaha," Symon laughed. "Alright then, a golden spoon in his mouth, but he knows our life well, and he loves it! He is our best dagger thrower by a great margin, and his agility on the battlefield rivals Kiyaribo himself! Don't let his pretty exterior fool you!" Riguoli chuckled, as Alice came back with the mead. Symon grinned, "cheers, Alice, you take a long little break now, you hear me?" She smiled courteously and walked away. The drinks were passed around, along with a plate for Tzuli.   Tzuli whispered to Orek "you know we don't drink, why didn't you say something?" Orek senses impatience there. He whispered back, "there's always a chance to change that, friend."   The old centaur stopped leaning on his seat now. Symon pointed to him. "This, Orek, is Dikkard Kiv, the finest longbow-taur I've ever seen! Once while fighting in the east, he slew a rampaging colossataur with a single shot in its eye! Now, in Maiyuka, they call him, Taug-slayer!" Looking at Dikkard's figure, the centaur's upper body being broader and with larger hands than a man's, this didn't surprise Orek too much. But colossataurs? They were a myth to frighten weary travellers inland and tell stories for children, weren't they?   "That was a young one." Luka noted. "Dikkard wishes he had defeated an adult with just a longbow! Haha."   Dikkard retorted-"it was a young adult! See, we're both right here!" It started to escalate, as Luka started to curse.   "Oi, oi, settle down!" Symon lowered his hands to emulate a return to normalcy. "Or else Dennys here will cut your throats while you sleep!" He looked around as the young cold eyed boy apparently named Denny's looked around. "He serves as our quiet assassin, as well as the one who cleans up after battle. He isn't phased by blood and violence like the others, so he's a valuable asset for the more...unhygienic practises." Dennys looked back up at him, acknowledged and went back to reading his notes. I can't wait to start working with him, Orek thought sarcastically.   "I'm sure Byabo would love to meet you too, Orek, but I'm afraid I've got him occupied elsewhere. Strictly confidential." Orek wanted to ask about the bandaged and hooded figure next to him, but before he could, Symon cracked his knuckles together. "You want to know why were called the 'Emerald Eyes'? I'll admit it has a ring to it, and I do like some of those fine rocks, but it's from a place for the unusual, for seeing the beauty in things that are different, my great grandfather founded where people of any nation or race could be united by the things we had in common, we were different, and we wanted money. This 'Dominion' you live in, is hardly the democracy it claims it is, only the great families, the magisters and the richest merchants have any real say here. When I joined this company, it was under the impression that I could be appreciated in ways that I never was back home. They'd grown decadent, not like in their founding; they fought just for cash, and were barely better than the savages of the Claw! I changed that. Now I command two thousand men, five hundred centaurs and one hundred Yamachai. How many can say that, eh?" He picked up his mead and downed it quickly.   As he drank, Orek asked. "But why emeralds specifically? You seem to like the colour green quite a lot here, is there something else to all this?"   Symon finished and sighed as he shut it down. "Well, our founder, the legendary soldier and my great grandfather, Kieran Kyne, thought that his allies were too bothered about the cash alone, that all they had eyes for were those rare jewels. So he carved out his own eyes and replaced them with emeralds!" Damn, Orek thought.   "Well, that's the legend at least" Symon grimaced in acknowledgement, "-they did say he was mad as a box of frogs too." He put his left hand up aiming to his eyepatch, "but even in madness and legend, there's always some level of truth to it all."   He pulled back his eyepatch, and revealed a scarred remnant where the eyelids and eyebrow should have been, the flesh seared and torn, and in the middle lay an Emerald the size of Orek's thumbnail! The flesh around it had grown into the gaps locking it in place. "Don't ask where I got it, by the way. There's a reason I wear an eyepatch, haha." This is not what I signed up for, Orek thought.   "Bloody hell" Orek heard himself say. He'd never seen anything like this even up north! Maybe saying what he thought wasn't such a good idea in a camp full of armed men and centaurs. And women- he didn't want to exclude Luka, or else she may exclude him of something dear...   "You've got some balls on you!" Syrbii chuckled after hearing him from behind. "Last time someone spat mockeries at the captain, I fed him his own balls!" He put his arm around Orek's shoulder. Orek did not feel as comfortable.   "Always a charmer, you are!" Symon waved it off. "Nah, I understand you there, mate. Syrbii here was no different when he first saw my good eye!" He grabbed another pint. "And besides, he only fed someone his own balls once, and that bloke deserved it. Or at least I think he did..." Symon trailed off.   Tzuli spoke again. "Well, we're impressed with your facilities and attention to detail. For soldiers for hire, you sure have quite a glamorous attire, what with emeralds and all there is." They too were treading on ice with conversation. They have been drinking, Orek thought. Cheeky buggars!   "Well, a lifestyle of killing for money and travelling a lot tends to do that to people," Dennys noted, his voice monotone except for a flicker of snark. Orek was used to Tzuli being quite cold compared to most, but even they weren't like this, and definitely not from the mouth of a man who had only recently stopped being a boy. "Not that I complain about that. Anyway, do you have a plan for the operation at hand?"   Deciding the next step wouldn't be hard, Orek reckoned. "Now," he started "-they at the Slint estate are known for being quite tight lipped on security, do this wouldn't be an easy job of sneaking in a few hundred men and torching the place to the ground. Now Dayle's estate is definitely smaller and less well guarded than his father's, but even so, just waltzing in and killing everyone would raise massive suspicion and once it got out, would cause a scandal like the Dominion's not seen since the Colonial War. We're talking famine, blockades, recession and civil war in Phurzia itself. If Phurzia's paralysed, the colonies will either break off, be overthrown or be invaded. In short, if we mess up this operation, every nation in the isles will want our blood! So you could say the stakes are pretty high."   He wavered to Tzuli, and they shifted their mass around, revealing a drawing of Dayle's residence and the number of guards from the time they had worked there previously. Orek continued. "See? Assuming it's a similar format and no major changes have been enacted in the years since Tzuli was there, then we have entrances and disguises we can use to get in."   "Hold on," Riguoli started. "I thought we were disguised as common bandits to attack his household? Wasn't that what the Captain had prepared? What we-" The hooded figure held up a hand and Riguoli relented of more words.   "Some of you will, yes." Orek continued. "But too many would look suspicious." We need people inside on the job as well to throw off the tie guards and be among the guests. Dayle will probably throw a party soon, and then we've got a good chance to strike. With people in the outside and the inside, we can strike him when he's vulnerable! Tzuli can split up and infiltrate various parts of the property, and so can provide a well surveyed view of where Slint and his men are, so we won't get surprised." He was mainly improvising based off the plans Tzuli had. They were always the better planner of the two, Orek was just the better speaker. And doer for that matter.   We heard that, Tzuli's thoughts went as they entered Orek's mind. The ability to communicate through the mind was helped Vrain communicate with each other and parts of their colonies over long distances, but Tzuli knew Orek hated it when they looked into his thoughts. Not now, you overgrown ant colony! Being compared to ants was one of the lazier insults to use against Vrain, especially Hu-Vrain, but that little bit of annoyance Tzuli had made it worthwhile every time.   "Well, well, then." Symon noted. "We've got a plan, and not a half bad one at that! Thank you for your time here, Orek and Tzuli." He coughed. "Everyone!" Symon shouted so that the whole camp could hear. "We've got a new mission ahead of us that if we pull off, could make us very rich indeed, and rid the world of a pompous little shit along the way. Get yourselves some good nights sleep tonight, because tomorrow we start planning. Until then, we drink!" To this the crowd of soldiers, and the commanders cheered. Finally, some good news. Maybe the plan Anthony had given him wouldn't be so hard after all!