Chapter 94: A Shared Goal

Chapter 94: Chapter 94: A Shared Goal

Victor lay Coco down at a corner, watching her drift weakly into sleep.

Kiki had also retired for the night. He walked over and placed some blanket skin on her.

She noticed. He didn’t notice she did.

Then his eyes went back to the Barbarians.

His mind flashed back to how they had treated Coco all these days. And even how Jaja, the person she was supposed to be closest to, treated her.

He suddenly remembered Paul’s words.

’The world is run by Morality and Desire. If Desire is more, it blankets Morality. But...’

"...Morality is what we wear. What we show the world." He muttered.

This revelation was new. Or rather, a deeper understanding to what Paul told him was new.

Victor was starting to understand something fundamental. And it was this. While desire was nearly constant with its expectations between the worlds, Morality was not.

So Morality is dependent heavily on what rules the community perceives as moral. Not what is moral...

Thinking this far, he paused, catching his thoughts.

Wait a minute? What... even is Morality?

This was a deeper question.

He could not help but locate a space on the ground, eyes on the sky, as he thought it through.

After all, his mind and experience told him one thing, Paul said something else. And these Barbarians obviously stood by something else entirely.

What if Morality is not the rules and regulations governing not just a society but the rules governing an individual. If that’s true, then could an individual impose his rules on the masses and make them accept it?

This was the last thought he had, as his mind finally settled, and he drifted into sleep.

...

Gor-Madak rode into the Southern Bloodline territory at the head of the host, mounted on a boar far bigger than any of the others, bolder too, always a length ahead of the rest.

They came in by the northern ridge, the same path his son had taken.

The signs were everywhere. Oil spilled and blackened across the slope. Scorched grass. Burnt orc bodies curled in the ash, boars charred beside them. Gor-Madak’s tusks ground together. Every corpse he passed fed his rage, and he drove the boar harder.

He cleared the great trench the barbarians had dug in a single leap, the boar’s hooves thudding down on the far side. Below him lay the wreckage of more of his people, riders and mounts impaled on sharpened stakes, bodies piled at the bottom.

He didn’t slow down.

Finally, the barbarian village rose before him. He had expected a fight, to see the barbarians who had killed his orcs, lined up to meet him.

But there was... nothing.

Tents stood empty. Cook-fires lay cold. And not a single barbarian in sight.

He dismounted and stepped forward, eyes sweeping the abandoned ground. "Search the entire place. Find them." He turned. "And bring me Skarn."

They did.

Skarn was dragged in, still wounded from the abuse Lego gave him, and then the ride back to the orc lands and the ride out again.

Still, he didn’t complain. More like he couldn’t, not in front of the chief.

"Where are the barbarians?" Gor-Madak demanded.

Skarn blinked around, genuinely startled. "They were here when I left, Chief. They were celebrating. Feasting, happy that they’d won."

Gor-Madak’s fist twitched. He wanted to smash the advisor’s skull in. But Skarn was useful. The chief held the rage in his chest and walked on instead, heavy steps, the skulls around his waist rattling, as his tongue ran along his tusk.

Then he reached the center of the village, and stopped.

There, planted in the middle of it all, was the head of his son.

Vrok.

For a moment he said nothing. His hands shook at his sides. Then he threw his head back and roared at the sky, a sound so deep it rolled off the surrounding hills and mountains, loosening a boulder from a distant cliff that crashed down the slope.

When it faded, he stood breathing hard.

"Prepare the host," he said, quietly. "The... mourning period begins."

Night fell. In Gor-Madak’s tent, screams rang out.

Three orcs already lay on the ground, beaten half to death. "Bring another," he snarled, and a fourth shuffled in, trembling, and the beating started again.

The other guards within, watched. They could only thank their stars that Gor-Madak was a traditional man. And by tradition, death must not touch the earth in the place of mourning.

If not, he would have not only beaten these Orcs but also ripped their heads out.

"Why is there still no news of the Barbarians?" he roared between blows.

Just then, a flap opened. An orc hurried inside, grinning, nearly stumbling over his own feet. "Chief! We found one! A barbarian!"

Before he’d finished, another orc dragged someone in behind him.

Barbarians were among the tallest, largest races. This one was no exception, tall, muscularly lean, and beautiful.

It was... Foto.

Gor-Madak frowned. His eyes narrowed. "A mere... female?"

"She says she knows where the other barbarians went, Chief."

"Fool." Gor-Madak turned away and lowered himself back onto the throne of bone and black wood. "You believe the words of this thing?"

Then his eyes settled particularly on Foto. "Is this another of your cunning barbarian plans? Let go of my Orc, before I break your neck."

The guards on the side stood confused, not understanding. But Foto, who had looked afraid a moment ago, suddenly relaxed. Her hands, tied behind her, slipped loose. A flash of black passed through the eyes of the orc who had brought her in.

He stepped back as though commanded, and Foto stepped forward, composed... in control.

’He saw through my enchantment.’ She thought to herself. No doubt, Gor-Madak was more formidable than she thought. ’This won’t be easy. I might have to make some sacrifices.’

Gor-Madak’s frown deepened. "You enchant my men and march into my tent. You must have a death wish." His knuckles cracked as he folded his fingers together.

The guards shocked rigid. They’d been certain he would at the very least beat her the way he beat everyone else. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d gone back to his seat.

But they knew him well. He was probably trying very hard to control himself from killing her. Holding hard to traditions rather than his in brazen nature.

Foto suddenly lowered her head in a respectful bow.

"Forgive me, Great Chief Gor-Madak Thar. I did not mean to deceive you. It was the only way I could think of to reach you." She raised her eyes. "I came because we share one goal. Only one."

She smiled.

"The death of Chief Milkshake22."