Disgraced Elven General (5)

I spent that week continuing to amass my wealth and gain some more experience, spending my days - and some nights - entirely inside the Scarlet Rock Coliseum, fighting and fucking as much as I wanted, while the rest of my time was spent working inside a club, filling in for one of my friends.

Dancing for patrons before spreading my legs for them wasn't a new feeling, as some of my personal patrons wanted me to 'Prance' for them, giving them a show of how I earned that title, and while I didn't enjoy some of their words, I did love their coin.

With the money that I made from blood and sex, I managed to purchase a high quality elixir that would further purify the aura inside me, while also helping to further improve the elements it was tied to.

I spent the night before the meeting with the City Lord and her guest refining and honing my aura, sharpening another weapon in my vast arsenal as I continued to purify my lethal Oak Leaf Aura.

Everyone had aura, and it could be of a broad domain like 'Fire', 'Water', or so on, or it could be a specific thing, like 'Burning Coals' or 'Torrential Downpour'.

Usually, something specific was stronger than the broader domain, and in my instance I was a Nature Aura wielder, which earned me the title 'Of the Oak'.

Neither rare nor common, the Oak Leaf Aura I wielded was something that broadly fell under Nature mainly, but also Wind and a little Water, so I had access to a lot of fun little techniques.

The potion I bought was to enhance my Wind Aura a little more, so that I could tap into swifter movements and sharper blades.

The process was simple enough; meditate on what the Aura means to you, and make that interpretation yours.

If it's something complex, then you will guarantee a fail if you're weak of will, but if its something simple you can gradually add to your prowess.

I wanted this gradual increase so that I could build my foundations stronger, that way when I returned to Lyna Easria I could cleave that bitches head from her shoulders and mount it on a pike before anyone even knew I was there.

Then I'd do the same for those old bastards as well.

On the day of the summons, I made my way into Gradrador's Citadel, where Lady Thora, the City Lord, resided.

Elaborate stonework and beautiful carvings covered the large Citadel, and small gardens and statues filled the courtyard in front of the opulent Thunder-Hammer Palace, home to the Dwarven Clan that ruled Gradrador.

Gold and yellow banners were hung everywhere, the symbol of a lightning bolt striking an anvil embossed and embroidered into any and everything it could be.

Following the Dwarven Guards into the inner chambers, I joined the other top gladiators, nodding to them as I took my place besides Dranka.

My Wolfkin friend grinned at me, her lust filled gaze letting me know what would happen after this meeting.

Sitting on the throne above us, Lady Thora lounged as she drank from her golden chalice, looking down at the assembled gladiators.

Long grey hair was pulled into a braid, while her wrinkled features still only added to her ravishing beauty.

Squat features paired well with the serious expression she always wore, and her golden cape barely concealed her muscled arms, letting us all know that the Warhammer resting against the throne wasn't for show.

"Is she finally here, Thorvald?"

Her voice was deep and gravely, and she glanced at the shrew little Dwarf beside her, his gray beard and glasses giving him a scholarly air.

"Soon, Lady Thora. She told us noon, and she's never been late before."

"Bah! Whatever. All of ye, listen up. We've a very special guest arriving, and she's looking for a trained, experienced bodyguard. Not that she of all people needs one, but appearances and all that shit. Anyways, she's offering multiple Platinums for a year of service, and she wants a damn good guard to stand besides her. Hence why I gathered all of ye 'ere today. Got it? This is real money, not them scraps ye fight for in the Coliseum."

We all widened our eyes at that, and Dranka leaned over and whispered "No hard feelings, Gwyneth, but I'm getting me that Platinum."

Glaring at my friend, I jabbed her in the ribs and whispered back "No, I'm getting that Platinum."

Many of the others were having similar conversations, but we fell silent when Thorvald coughed into his fist, saying "All hail the War Chief Dura!"

I stiffened at his words, turning to look at the door with a pounding heart as I watched one of my greatest enemies - and greatest fears - stride into the chamber.

Taller than me by two feet, War Chief Dura was a mountain of a woman, raw, rippling muscle coating her entire body.

Green skin was pulled taunt over her muscle, while black and red tattoos covered her body in intricate patterns - each line of ink was an achievement to an Orc, and to be covered almost entirely...

She wasn't the Horde's War Chief for nothing.

I had never met her personally, nor had I ever seen her, but I heard of her exploits.

And her brutality.

The youngest daughter of the current Overlord, Dura butchered the siblings who looked down on her, and she was rumored to be the shoe in for the next Overlord...

She fit the part too - long raven black hair laden with bones pulled into a simple ponytail, long, curved tusks engraved with gold symbols, bloodthirsty amber eyes, an arrogant smirk.

Dura was what most believed an Orc to be, and now...

She was standing before me.

"Thora! Finally turning old and gray now are you? Don't croak on me just yet, old friend."

"Piss off, ye overgrown mountain! Breathing the same air as ye is insufferable enough!"

Cackling, Dura approached the City Lord and gave her an exaggerated bow, before turning and looking over the gladiators.

"This them? Hmm... you've run low on good stock, Thora. Weaklings, most of 'em."

Rolling her eyes, the City Lord stood up and glared at Dura, punching her thigh as she said "That's cause someone here murdered the last group! 'Someone looked at ye wrong' my ass! I lost a lotta coin that day, Dura!"

"Aye, aye... I paid it back, didn't I? Come now Thora, we've known... oh, not bad~!"

My heart was pounding in my chest as I stared at the giant Orc, only for it to drop and freeze as she turned towards me.

Her lips curled into a wide smirk, and those amber eyes flashed with amusement and recognition, causing my heart to stop.

"What? Oh, the Elf? Aye, she's a rising star, her. Rather popular amongst the citizens too. Hey, why'd ye need a guard anyways? Who's trying to attack ye front on?"

Dura chuckled, her eyes never once leaving mine as she said "Multiple reasons, Thora. Someone needs to hold the position of War Maiden or War Priest for me, so that I can get good ole Mom off my back. The other is to push some work off onto them so that I can enjoy myself some more, but..."

Stepping forwards, she loomed over me and grinned, her large fingers lifting my chin up as she nodded.

"I found what I need. Thora, I'll send the payment the usual way. Have our agreed shipment prepared as well, old friend. The world's about to change in big ways..."

Letting go of my chin, Dura glanced back at the City Lord and grinned, before she clapped her hands, a loud bang echoing around the chambers.

"Alright! C'mon now, Elf. You and I need to have a little chat..."