Mount

The plan was simple: hide in the mountains.

Earlier, while the humans were in hot pursuit, the orc chief's senses were focused on the mountain range ahead, anticipating the challenge it held. Meanwhile, Ragard's keen intuition detected the subtle signs of pursuit from their human adversaries, a skill honed through years of evading danger in the wilderness.

With a swift gesture, the ragard signaled the dragonoids, formidable fighters among their ranks, to engage the humans and buy them time. While the dragonoids clashed with the enemy, the orc chief led the rest of their clan forward, shielding the females and younglings from harm as they made their way deeper and closer to the mountains.

To the orc chief, the safety and well-being of his clan were paramount. Unlike many monsters who prioritized their own survival above all else, he harbored a deep sense of responsibility for his people, especially the vulnerable younglings and females.

The orc chief's concern for the breeding females of his clan stemmed from their rarity and significance. Female orcs were precious commodities, as their reproduction was essential for the survival and growth of their community. Knowing the dangers they faced and the importance of their role, the chief made their protection a top priority, ensuring their safety at all costs.

The younglings were the future of their clan, carrying the legacy of their kind forward. Just like the breeding females, they were guarded with utmost care and importance. The orc chief recognized that the strength and prosperity of their community depended on the upbringing and education of the younglings, who would one day become warriors and leaders themselves. Thus, safeguarding their well-being was essential for ensuring the continuity and success of their clan.

The orc chief's grin widened as he surveyed the younglings, relieved to find them unharmed. It was a testament to their careful planning and swift action that they had managed to keep the younglings safe from harm.

The orc chief, with a sense of determination, took the long, worn-out cloak draped around his neck and began to tear it into pieces. With deft movements, he fashioned the cloak into makeshift coverings to protect the younglings from the mana emanating from the mountains. Despite its tattered appearance, the cloak provided a barrier against the chill of the mountain air and offered some semblance of comfort to the vulnerable younglings under his care. As he worked, the orc chief's expression softened, his actions a testament to his fierce loyalty and commitment to safeguarding his clan, even in the face of adversity.

"You will all be safe," the orc chief assured them, his voice carrying a tone of solemnity and determination. Among the younglings, a smaller orc gazed up at him with eyes filled with wonder, a glimmer of hope shining within them. With a soft giggle, she broke the tension, her laughter a fleeting moment of innocence amidst the turmoil of their surroundings.

Back at the human camp, the atmosphere was tense as the paladin summoned his top-tier knights, including Sir Molsic. Their expressions mirrored the gravity of the situation, as they awaited the paladin's words with a sense of urgency and determination.

The paladin's gaze pierced through his knights, each one feeling the weight of his scrutiny as they awaited something, anything to break the intense silence.

"What transpired on the battlefield, Sir Ortega?" The paladin asked.

The man the paladin had mentioned was a figure of higher rank than his closest aide, Sir Molsic. Known as Sir Ortega, he was a legendary warrior feared and respected by friend and foe alike. His mere presence commanded attention, and his reputation for ruthlessness preceded him like a dark shadow.

Sir Ortega's ability to lead and take charge during battles was unmatched. He possessed a keen tactical mind and a fearless demeanor that inspired his comrades and struck fear into the hearts of his enemies.

Sir Ortega's reputation for striking fear extended beyond the battlefield; he indulged in the same unholy practices as the leaders of the holy empire, fostering an atmosphere of terror and oppression wherever he went.

Sir Ortega's insatiable desires had left him with neither wife nor children, as he sacrificed personal connections for the pursuit of power and pleasure, he is no different from every other person with a high status in the holy empire.

Sir Ortega's striking appearance, with his blue spiky hair and lashes, was often seen as a divine blessing, defying traditional gender norms. His beauty was celebrated, even among men, and contributed to his status as a noble figure.

Ortega's impeccable sense of fashion was not to be understated. His attire, meticulously crafted by a team of talented tailors, was a testament to his status and influence. Each garment was a work of art, designed to accentuate his natural charm and charisma.

Each day, he donned a new ensemble, carefully curated to showcase his impeccable taste and distinctive style. In the midst of the camp, his attire made him an unmistakable figure, commanding attention and admiration from all who beheld him, even in the solemn presence of the paladin, was nothing short of extraordinary. Adorned in intricate designs and vibrant colors, his garments exuded an air of elegance and extravagance.

Sir Ortega's current attire was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, a grey leather fabric intricately laced with golden threads that shimmered in the faint light of the camp. Silver adornments adorned his ensemble, adding a touch of regal elegance to his already striking appearance. With every movement, the fabric flowed gracefully around him, accentuating his powerful physique and commanding presence.

Despite his prowess on the battlefield, Sir Ortega found himself at a loss for words in response to the paladin's inquiry. His mind raced, searching for a suitable explanation or excuse, but he could find none that satisfied him. The weight of the paladin's scrutiny bore down on him, and he felt the pressure to provide a satisfactory response intensify with each passing moment.

As time passed, the paladin's voice rang out with a hint of impatience. "You have no excuse ready, do you, Ortega?"

The paladin's words cut through the tense silence, highlighting Sir Ortega's inability to provide a swift explanation for the events that transpired on the battlefield. Ortega's expression remained stoic, but inwardly, he cursed his lack of preparedness for this interrogation.

"Do you understand the disgrace you've brought upon the empire by failing to subdue those creatures?" The paladin's voice boomed with anger.

"We are deeply sorry, Your Grace," the knights responded in unison, bowing their heads in shame.

"I can no longer sense their presence within the plains of Suthur," the paladin continued grimly, "They are heading for that mountain... the very one that houses divine beasts."