Alchimia Rex (021 & 022) (M&M Book 2)

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AN: 8.5K, another good fun post even if slightly rushed.

I'm back! Fight-on!

[021] [Wartribe]

Once the alarm that some humans had been poisoned went off, Urtha had attempted to switch gears and command the tribe to mobilize. But Dia beat her to the punch, issuing orders like a machine-gun and making it very loud and clear how dangerous the situation was to the humans.

That got people to comply. Monica and Urtha were told of this being a potential Vampire retaliation, the Orcs scrambled to combat readiness. And in the chaos, Rick was thrown into the “Chieftain’s hut” and cut off from the rest of the world. His ability to at least tell if or where something might go wrong was removed.

The questions multiplied.

Had he estimated properly how much of the glycoalkaloid poison would make it from the potato plant and into the stew? Was his knowledge on the matter even accurate considering this was a different world and the potato had been grown with what amounted to magic? What would happen if the tribe figured out how the poison had been administered and who was responsible?

But if there was one consolation, it was that no matter how much he felt like he was getting stabbed in the gut over and over, he’d survive. Which felt like an assurance that he’d at least guesstimated things properly.

It didn’t relieve his nerves.

Because one question burned above, even that of his potential survival.

What if this stunt got the others killed?

Dia, Monica, and, to a lesser extent, Kiara and… Eva.

Eva was still in a strange position in his priority list.

Had he done the right thing? Would this present the opportunity they were seeking, or had he put them all on a collision course with the tribe? He didn’t have a 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 questions kept piling on; the hours felt like days.

Maybe Dia had been right. Maybe it would’ve been better to take the safer option, less risk. But then what? Die to the Kingdom’s sword? The Vampire’s? The tribe was blind to the threats. Urtha clearly would’ve regained control even over Monica, eventually. She knew the tribe and had led them. Spinning the Vampire’s control into a slip-up would become easy with time.

Maybe she was cunning enough to have already started that exact thing.

Not knowing was eating at him.

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.

Night came, and sleep eluded him.

The tribe was not resting either. The sound of movement outside was constant, voices hushed, feet stomped. Whatever was going down, it moved around the hut he was in, but the center of it all was too far away. The vagueness of the information he could glean only made it worse.

At least the bonds were still there. That was the singular relief and comfort. So long as the bonds were there, then it meant things had not gone off the rails.

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

Rick’s lips thinned, but knew there was no escape. Where were Monica and Dia? What was going on? “Sure. Just give me a second.”

He changed his shirt to one that wasn’t drenched and followed them. The tribe was quiet, every Orc he could see was armed and stood guard to some hut or another. There was no trace of any maiden other than the green-skins.

His escorts did not lay a finger on him, merely guiding him to the meet-hut.

The building was packed with Orcs.

Rick froze when he felt the air become so charged his skin began tingling. The instinct to jump out of the way was blocked by being surrounded by the Orcs in every direction. Who was unleashing their powers? What was going on?

“You are inside a truth-spell.” Kiara’s voice rang out from the opposite side of the meet-hut, loud and clear despite the throng of two-meter tall bodies in the way. “If you lie, you will feel the spell punishing you, and everyone here will know as well.”

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

“At least let me see whoever is interrogating me.”

“You are a man.” Urtha barked out. “You have already been shown the courtesy you deserve.”

Rick’s fists clenched. “Are you a coward that you would not even look me in the eye!?”

That jolted the crowd, scowls deepened, but some looked over their shoulders toward where Urtha’s voice had come from. It took several seconds before the Orcs present rustled, parting ways for the larger Orc to step through.

She was truly a specimen amongst her kind, a good head and shoulders taller than all others. Her black hair was a wild tangled mess, her eyes holding nothing but contempt. The rest of the green-skins moved away from Rick a full step. Only then did he spot the symbols that had been drawn on the ground.

“State your name, male.”

Urtha snapped his attention up to her as she remained at the edge of the drawing.

“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? Monica and Dia felt like they were nearby, but he couldn’t see them.

“Did you poison the tribe’s food? Do you know who did it?”

Had they found Yasir out? If they had, what would’ve been the point of asking him? To make a sham of a trial? Yet it seemed Kiara had been the one to put this up.

“Answer!” Urtha growled.

How did the spell work? The question struck Rick. ‘Truth’ was a very finicky definition.

“I did not add poison to the tribe’s food.” He waited for a heartbeat, measuring Urtha’s reaction. “I didn’t see anyone adding anything suspicious to the food either.” Nothing, not a twitch.

Only more annoyance. Rick’s heart skipped a beat. Urtha suspected, but had no proof.

“Do you have any suspicion or knowledge about who might have poisoned the food?”

Rick’s lips thinned. He had to be careful. “I did not have time to see much of the tribe or its people. It’s impossible for me to be sure how many would have considered poisoning the food.”

It was like watching a bow being pulled in preparation to shoot. Every muscle in Urtha’s body drew taut. He could almost hear the fibers straining as she had to unclench her jaw to speak.

“Would you stand to benefit by harming the humans of this tribe?”

Hard eyes glared into his soul, tusks gleaming in the flickering torch light of the meet-hut. Her hands were opening and closing, clenching so tight that it would crush skulls with barely a thought. Hers was the look of a titan looking 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.

Fuck it. She wanted a fight? He’d give her one.

But not under her terms.

“Yes.”

The declaration startled her at first, but it immediately brought a smile to the Orc’s lips.

She drew in a breath to speak.

He was faster. “I stand to benefit because it would prove your tribe is a fucking mess. It would prove you can’t even survive one weak, little, determined human.” 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 punch you. 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 their face in. It was because of the 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 tribe will be dead within the year. The Vampires will want revenge, and the kingdom will hunt you down, too. Do you even have a solution other than to run around and hope they grow bored?”

“Of cour-”

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. “You don’t have a plan on how to save the tribe.”

The Orc grimaced. “They cannot chase us forever. They have never bothered.”

“Never bothered 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! Claim you are certain the kingdom won’t seek to crush the tribe like it has never before.”

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

“LOOK AT ME!” He snarled, pushing every ounce of everything within him into those three words. “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 than hope, you can bash everything. It’s the one reason you don’t even want to challenge Monica’s position as the warchief. But if she’s the warchief, then I am the damn war-king.”

A roar broke the crowd, sending a shudder through the Orcs. Monica was there. 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.

“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 put up with.” 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 have no 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 warchief, 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, someone strong enough, she took your arm off in the blink of an eye, 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 any further than Monica could toss the giant, which was a lot, 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. “Humans must be saved.” 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, they will be kept alive.” The words eased some of the tension. “But those found to be suspicious will be separated 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 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!”

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

Hesitation, anger, and calm compliance, all in quick order. “Not much. 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 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, reparations to settling 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 off 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.”

[022] [Father]

Rick woke feeling fuzzy and warm, rested both inside and out. Dia and Monica had helped him relax in more ways than one, both maidens resting soundly. He was laying atop Monica, the naked maiden’s large body proving to be warmer and more comfortable than the furs. Dia lay on the bed nearby, far less of a cuddler than the feline.

He raised his head, and both maidens stirred.

They’d been pretending to sleep.

“Good morning, handsome,” Dia whispered, purple eyes shimmering as she leaned up to kiss his shoulder.

Rick caressed her cheek and pulled her closer. “Are you feeling better? In general I mean.”

“Who would not be in better spirits after last night?” She smiled coyly, kissing him in full. “It’s nice seeing you smile. These past few days have been… tough.” The Rapha’s smile faltered for only a moment. “Tough. But necessary.”

“So…” He hesitated, carefully caressing her hair.

“I… understand that some things you did for my sake, and others you did for everyone’s.” Her expression softened. She kissed him again. “I can’t ask for more.”

She could, he knew she could; he knew she wanted to too. But to claim such would be cruel. He shifted his weight, wrapping her into his arms and pulling her close. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Monica poked his head.

“And you.” He chuckled.

Dia nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Monica first.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“She’s right, though.” The Rapha whispered. “She’s earned being the first, and I have things to do.”

“Technically, so do I.”

“Yours can wait.” She slipped out of his arms, dooming him to Monica’s hug. “Best of luck, sir, you will need it. I will spread the word to begin preparations to mobilize the tribe.”

“Thank you, and Dia.” He waited for a heartbeat, grasping her hand before she could escape. “I won’t be doing things on my own. I want you with me.”

Her smile brightened the room. “I will be.” She nodded. “And… I understand what you were trying to tell me. Sometimes bad things need to happen so that we can do more good. Just…”

“I will try to minimize the bad.”

Another nod. The maiden brushed her pink hair behind her ear. “And I will help you.” She promised, scampering off to get dressed.

“Monica turn now.” The Sabretooth proclaimed, purring into his ear, pulling him closer into her naked embrace. “Rick know what Monica want.”

“Do I?” He reached out, grabbing hold of her face, pinching her cheeks. “Could it be some petting? You want me to touch you all over? Maybe with some oil?”

She purred approvingly. “Pets second. First, fun.”

Uh oh.

“Wouldn’t the pettings be fun, though?”

“Different fun.” She rolled over, pinning him to furs. She grinned smugly, paws ensuring his arms were stuck on the bed. “Now Rick escape.”

He huffed. “Do I have to? You’re going to win.”

“Monica always win, but Rick learn. Important.”

Looking up at her, he took a moment to marvel at her body. Here was the most powerful maiden in probably hundreds of kilometers in any direction. A woman built for murder.

She had enough strength that she could crush every bone in his body.

Yet he barely felt her weight.

Her claws were sharp enough they could cut through metal.

But her chunky fingers were only soft.

Fangs that could rip his throat off.

But kissed tenderly.

“No, bad.” She chided, pushing the soft pad of her palm against his nose. “No sexy eyes.”

He could have tried to use his freed arm, but she would’ve pinned it back, so instead he pulled his knees up against his chest. From there, all he needed to do was press his soles against her abdomen and lift.

Monica didn’t stop him, keeping her feet on the ground and just letting him raise her into the air. Then her tail flicked against his knees, knocking his legs from under her. Like a tree that had been chopped down, she fell. The maiden stopped herself millimeters away from his face.

She licked his nose.

“Again.”

“With a girlfriend like you, who needs a gym membership?”

He grunted, raising his legs and pushing.

“New word. Girlfriend? Gym? Membership?”

“Girlfriend is like a lover, but specifically a girl.” Rick muttered through gritted teeth. “Gym is a special place, one where you go train your body. Membership is… complicated.” A deep huff as he tried to tense his legs so her tail couldn’t just wipe them out. “It’s a special permission to go to a place, or use a thing.”

“Monica have Rick membership?”

With a loud snort, his legs were knocked out of the way, and the maiden fell again. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“Rick has Monica membership.” She licked his nose. “Again.”

He groaned but obliged until he learned the trick of curling his toes slightly to get just a little more grip. It was only then that Monica freed him from doing… whatever they’d been doing. He sure as hell was sure it wasn’t any formal training he knew of. Was it even training? Sometimes he was half-sure it was just a source of amusement for her.

“Now massage.”

Her whims were many, and she was already naked and had a small wooden jar. The jar had hidden in the rafters of the hut, away from the reach of everyone but herself. Rick suspected she hid other things up there, but he’d need a ladder to check.

The oil was warm, but it had no scent he could detect.

Monica’s back was large, tanned, and full of scars. Some were darker, jagged, most were thin and pale. It was like watching a map of every fight she’d gone through. And the nice curves-

“No sexy eyes!” Her stripped tail, which was almost as long as he was tall, swatted him squarely on the nose. The maiden smirked at his grimace.

“You complain too much.” He muttered, rubbing at his bruised pride.

She shot him a look that had ‘Really? I’m the one that complains too much?’ written all over.

“Yes, you do.”

“Rub rub rub.” She demanded, wriggling her hips at him.

Rolling his eyes, he poured a bit of oil and started his work. Her skin was soft, irregular from the scars, but silky smooth. And underneath it were her muscles, wiry rippling muscle that vibrated with her purring voice. They weren’t the muscles of a human. No matter how much weight and effort Rick put in it, his touch would not sink an inch whenever there was tension.

And to work that tension away was an endeavor in of itself. A slow shift in pressure as his knuckles sank into the ridges and valleys. He followed the curve of her body, down her spine and to her tail.

But he would avoid the extra limb and its base entirely. Every time he’d get close, he would start over at the top, at the curve of her neck and shoulders. Slowly moving down and down and down. Then straight back upright as she swayed her tail in anticipation.

“Monica hear many new words.” She muttered, sighing contentedly and sinking her face into her furry arms. “War. It means big fight?”

“Yup. A huge fight, or one fight after the other.” He nodded along. “A war is… imagine two tribes fighting, but having many fights because they are too big to fight all at once.”

“Mhm.” A slight brief nod. “Southern. It means south?”

“It means that it exists in the south of something else, something bigger.” Once more, ignoring her tail, he flowed around them and started working her thighs. “Southerner means someone who was born in a southern place.”

Monica scoffed. “Useful word?”

“If you care for where someone was born, then yes.”

“Monica southerner?”

“No, you come from the east of the kingdom. Easterner would be the right term.”

She mumbled for a moment. “Rick care if Monica easterner?”

“Not really.”

Her tail brushed against his forehead, swaying in the air as her hips shifted position ever so slightly. “Pregnant. It means having cub?”

Rick hesitated, lowering his gaze to the back of her knees where the white stripped fur receded and the honeyed skin began. “It’s when you have a child inside, before it is born.”

“Not right time.” The tail brushed against his neck and chin, raising his face so that he could meet her gaze as she looked over her shoulder. “But soon.”

He grimaced. “It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid.” He began working his way back up her body. “Maidens can’t have children with humans, not until they’ve grown old enough to become a matron.”

There was a flash of confusion. “Monica see pregnant ones, young.”

“It’s parthenogenesis.”

“Monica hear word before.”

“It’s… complicated. Give me a moment.” He breathed in and sighed. “Maidens can become pregnant on their own. That is parthenogenesis. It is how ferals reproduce.”

“Yes.”

He met her gaze. “It is also unlikely to happen if you are strong.”

She took the words in, considering them, then nodded. “Then try more.”

Rick laughed, returning the gesture, and continued to massage her thighs. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.” His fingers moved to the base of her tail, adding pressure. He enjoyed how she sucked in air sharply, shuddering, how goosebumps spread over her body. “And what brought this talk about?”

“Rick grow strong.” Her voice dripped with pride. “Soon Monica can make nest, not need to protect Rick always.”

The declaration brought with it a very complicated set of emotions, none of which he’d been prepared for. It was a mix of whiplash and a gut punch, with a sprinkling of pride on top just to drive the confusion further.

“And… what does it mean to make a nest?”

This was definitely new grounds. His voice was careful. Did he have to account for a potential Monica-zilla let loose inside a city? This could mean a serious change to his plans. Would she seek to make some cave out in the wilderness? How could that even work out? The-.

Her tail swatted his nose.

“Rick think too much.” She sank into her arms, purring and wriggling her hips to get him back to work. “Monica knows nest with Rick. Will know place and time later.”

“And… will others be allowed to live near the nest?”

She considered it. “Dia yes. Others Monica not sure. Maybe yes. Maybe no.”

Wait what?

“You’d let Dia?”

“Dia learn sharing, important. Dia learning to stronger?”

“To be stronger.”

“To be stronger.” She parroted, nodding. “Dia learning to be stronger, important also.”

Her purr was like an idling chainsaw. It made his work harder but more amusing at the same time. Rick considered this new set of information, trying to figure out how to piece it together. The thought of her not wanting to be around him at every hour was something he’d never considered before. Sure, it made sense. He should’ve seen it coming.

But the idea of one day having to consider she wouldn’t show up was… daunting.

The purring stopped. “Go away,” Monica growled.

Whoever had approached the hut didn’t even knock, and Rick continued to massage his way all over her body. She grew more and more relaxed, eventually falling into a quick nap, her tail wrapped possessively around his hip.

It was only then that their next visitor showed up, entering with a soft creak of the door.

“Big, green, and ugly sent me.” Kiara declared as she stepped through the curtains, floating a little over the ground. “The guards caught a Spinner, a man called Yasir insists is his wife.”

Rick groaned and nodded. “He would be correct. Send them to the meet-tent. I’ll be there soon.”

“Will inform them not to execute her, then.” She nodded, eyes lingering on their naked bodies, appearing to lock on Monica for a moment before returning to Rick. “When her heat comes, I’d recommend chains or she’ll break you like a dry twig.”

The Succubus turned to leave, and in her wake, Rick almost jumped. “Her what?”

The only provided response was a lilt of laughter with the click of the closing door. He glanced at Monica. “Do… you go into heat?”

“Monica always warm.” She shrugged, reaching up to pull him back to the bed. “Nap?”

“Work.”

The pout deepened.

“You could practice your writing while I handle this. Want to come with me?”

Her face turned into dejectedness, but she nodded in dejection.

“And no going outside naked.”

She stuck her tongue out at him as she forced her way into her favorite ripped shorts and torn shirt. Grumbling all the way as he dressed up and headed out.

Walking around the tribe was… odd.

Everyone kept looking at him like he’d just grown a second head. He could understand why, but still. They headed to the meet-hut and Rick had to remind himself to sit on the bone and leather throne.

Monica left, coming back with several wooden slates and pieces of charcoal. The three meter tall maiden sat cross-legged next to him and slogged her way through the alphabet. By the time she’d started working through the words she knew, the guards announced their visitors.

“Welcome.”

Rick spoke at Ahina as she stepped into the hut, followed closely by Yasir. It was a stark difference in appearances. Where Ahina wore little more than rags that did little to cover her dark skin, it was Yasir who was better dressed, wearing a simple pale-green poncho.

“We greet the warchief.” Ahina spoke, coming to a stop a good five meters away, bowing. “We present a simple gift of gratitude.” At a gesture of her hand, Yasir stepped forwards, carrying a bundle of cloth. “It was made in a hurry. We had little time. More will come once we have had the chance to rest and recover.”

“It is Spinner-silk of course.” Yasir declared, presenting the cloth. “My Ahina is well versed in the craft. We had come to Sinco in search of an elemental stone for her to shift into an Arachne, to expand our business.”

“I will freely admit I don’t have a clue about these kinds of things. But I appreciate the gesture.” He smiled, taking the soft cloth in his hands. It was light, but felt sturdy.

Monica gave it a sniff and frowned slightly, but returned to her homework.

Rick continued. “I would wish to drop formalities, since I am definitely not good with them. Nor is this the proper time.” He looked from Yasir to Ahina and back. “You told me you were a merchant?”

“I am, if only to better sell my wife’s work.”

“That still makes you the most experienced merchant currently in the tribe.” Rick replied. “We will need someone with money managing skills pretty soon. I thought to ask whether you would be interested in the position.” He raised his hand. “Though I will warn ahead of time that I don’t have a grasp on what is or isn’t a fair pay for such a job. If you agree, we would need to sit down and talk numbers.”

The man and his wife shared a look.

“And… what would be my wife’s fate?”

“Fate?” He frowned, turned from one to the other, and frowned further. “Neither of you are property of the tribe, nor would I allow retaliation if you left.”

“I would wish to help you.” Ahina declared, without missing a beat.

“In what way could you offer service to the tribe?”

The part-spider maiden straightened up, squaring her shoulders. “I can fight.” She spoke with a voice full of conviction. “And my silk can be used in many things. I doubt its protective properties would be appreciated by the Orcs, but it is still comparable to simple chain-mail, and could undoubtedly save a human’s life.”

“I did not know that.”

Rick eyed the bundled cloth on his lap, feeling like several questions he had regarding the clothes nobles wore had been answered. But it took him a second to realize her eyes had been firmly fixated on the lower edge of his neck, on the scars that peeked through.

That made the gift less subtle, but at least he couldn’t claim it had been made with bad intentions.

“Monica, what do you think of Ahina as a fighter?”

Her ears canted as she raised her gaze, meeting the Spinner’s squarely. There was a shift in the air, a growing tension. Rick’s skin tingled and Ahina tensed, the spider limbs opening as her hands tightened into fists.

Just as it came, it left. “Eva weaker, Dia stronger.” She returned to her slate.

Rick rubbed at his chin. This was a bit of a pickle. It seemed Monica considered Ahina to be rather ignorable as far as raw fighting power went. And the maiden in question caught the dismissive tone right away.

“I will fight to protect my children. There will be no need for payment.” She squared her shoulders, glaring.

“Monica is good at assessing individual strength, but it’s Kiara and Urtha who can determine the potential as part of a fighting force. Talk to them.” Rick clarified, hoping he was right on that assessment. Sending the Spinner their way ought to be taken as trust in their skills at least. “But know that I won’t accept this service for free.”

“It is a matter of honor, and a mother’s will.”

“And for that, I am giving you the opportunity to prove you can fight with the tribe.” He glanced from Yasir to Ahina. “Both of you have gone through rough times, and you have two children waiting for you. Either you take payment for your services or you will be treated as guests and protected accordingly.”

That startled the maiden. Eyes going wide as she looked from Yasir, the man shot her a look. “I will consider it.” She intoned every syllable with effort, bowing and turning to leave.

“Yasir, please stay. I need to speak to you.”

They shared a look, and Rick was wondering whether there was such a thing as married telepathy. In the end, Ahina gave another nod and walked off in a huff. Yasir watched her go, sighing and turning to Rick with a wide grin plastered on his face.

“I am certain she will tell me you are a terrible influence.” The man chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a very bold move, what you did.”

“Where I come from, not giving a warrior their fair share is highly dishonorable.”

Yasir had also been willing to kill and put himself at substantial risk for the sake of his plan. Rick would not besmirch that. Even if he apparently would need to be a little forceful about it.

“That explains many things.” Yasir’s eyes were on Monica as he spoke. “What would you have this humble merchant do for you, oh Father of the tribe?”

“I want to learn to form bonds the way you did with Ahina.”

There was a pen chock-full of feral maidens, many of them from Sinco or other villages, and he could use both their strength and whatever shred of knowledge they held. But forming the bond the normal way would take too long.

“Indeed?” Yasir stroked his beard, his dark skin wrinkling as he glanced at Monica, then at him. “You do not treat maidens the way many do in these lands. It should be possible for you to learn, but…”

“But?”

He eyed Rick. “I mean no disrespect, but when I look upon you, I do not see a man’s heart but that of a maiden. You are cunning and care for the feelings of those near to your heart. But you are… imposing, demanding.”

The comment had been spoken cautiously, and Rick could see the grain of truth in it. Though he wasn’t exactly sure what it meant for this situation.

“How would that be a problem?”

“A man’s heart is open and welcoming, a father’s embrace, unconditional love and a tender touch.” Yasir explained. “Such would be the role of a tribe’s Father, to be the hearth for all its members. A shoulder for them to lean on when their souls waver, or Fortune above, the voice of reason when there is little sanity to be found.”

Rick tried not to show annoyance at the description. He could understand where Yasir was coming from, but…

“Are there Orc tribes where you come from?”

“An Orc that spends enough time under the sun will see less need for food. The golden sands have a great deal of tribes, far larger than this one.” He let out an amused sound. “I suspect this tribe is descended from some splinter from the tribes north of this kingdom. The customs are similar, but slightly different.”

Leaning back on his chair, he tried to take that in. “What would you suggest?”

“You proposed to the Spear of the tribe, Urtha, did you not?”

“Proposed is a bit of a strong word, but let’s run with it.”

“Traditionally, it is the Orc who shows their interest by kidnapping the male, showing they possess the strength to fend off those that chase after.” There was a cheeky grin on Yasir’s face. Pearly white teeth flashed through the scruffy beard. “But as Father of the tribe, it is understandable the standard tradition would be… adapted, as Monica has proven quite well none can stop her from getting you back.”

The feline’s ears twitched at the mention of her name, but she kept focused on the slate, mouthing the syllables as she wrote them down.

“Meaning?”

“I make no assumptions, as I have few details, but I heard you nearly got her to kneel when accepting your proposal. Urtha did not strike me as one who would be happy with having her pride bruised in such a way.” He bowed his head slightly. “Maybe you could use the opportunity to… learn how to use a softer touch?”

He slumped to the chair, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a pain, he just knew it.

“You do not wish to bond with her?”

“She is the heart of the tribe, and has led them through a lot. Not bonding with her means risking instability.” He rubbed at his temples. “Right now, we need unity.”

“Is she not of your tastes?”

Yasir asked with a neutral tone that raised alarms in Rick’s mind. He followed the man’s gaze as it moved from Monica and to the far door.

Were there eavesdroppers? Of course there would be. The guards were of the tribe, and the rumor mill moved faster than the speed of light.

He might as well have Urtha standing right in the middle of the hut.

The words were chosen carefully, shifting his tone. “She is quite… maidenly, I will admit.” The word still felt weird coming out of his mouth. “Strong, and determined. It is nice. When…” What were examples of Urtha being strong? Ah. “When she lost her arm in the fight, she barely even flinched.” He was not sure how to add a dreamy quality to his voice, and he would not try. “Maybe a little too hard-headed. I don’t mind any of those qualities. But it seems pretty clear she doesn’t enjoy being challenged, or me.”

“Give her time. Change is challenging.” Yasir spoke softly. “But you are in luck. It is no secret she holds no respect or love for the one she is bonded to. She has slept alone many nights.”

Love.

Rick’s neck stiffened at the word. It brought the image of ring boxes gathering dust on drawers and empty beds. “Fuck love.” He snapped. “This is about what’s good for the tribe. Love can come when it damn well pleases.”

“That… is certainly one way to go about it.”

Yasir’s response was a tad too political.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” The man bowed his head slightly. “Wounds need to heal at their own pace. Scars do not go away overnight.”

The question of who had put that scar on Rick lingered, unspoken but felt. And he did not answer its call.

“Thanks for the counsel.”

Yasir bowed. “May Fortune smile upon you.”

“And you.”

The man from a faraway land left quietly.

The man that came from another world remained.

In the silence of the empty meet-hut, Rick groaned.

“Seems I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

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