Page 2

Chapter Two

Axum

“Good, Your Grace,” Grukk breathes heavily as he parries my sword thrusts, sliding under my guard. The practice swords we are using may not cut, but they are heavy and will cause bruising. I know first hand. In this session alone, a strike along my back has been throbbing for about half an hour. “Nice thrust.”

I duck just as he swings at my head, the air whooshing over me and whipping through my hair.

Grukk chuckles and presses me with a complex series of movements until I fall on my backside. He presses the tip of his wooden sword to my throat with a wide grin on his face. His tusks flash in the light radiating from the sconces, white and sharp. “You did well today, Your Highness.”

I grunt and push the tip away. “Yes, but I did not best you.”

He tosses the sword away and holds his hand out to help me to my feet. “In your defense, sire, you have never bested me.”

That is an accurate statement. In the twenty years Grukk has been my weapons and war trainer, the student has failed to surpass the teacher. But I do not wish to best him. If ever I do, I would need to find another that is better and that would be an impossible task; Grukk is the best.

We meander over to the canteen and take several swigs of cold water. Training today has been hard, my muscles burning and begging for a reprieve from the harsh treatment. It would not be so bad if I did not have a meeting later that will sap even more of my energy.

“We have been at it for hours,” I say, checking the position of the sun in the sky. Just after dawn, I dragged myself from the comfort of my bed to meet Grukk here—it is closer to noon now.

Grukk nods, handing me a cloth to wipe my face. “Yes, but you have greatly improved. You were able to evade more than one of my blows. It has only taken you twenty years.”

Another grunt leaves my lips, though I smile as I wipe my face clean. “We shall not train on the morrow. I have court. My advisors have chastised me for not listening to the disputes of my subjects on a regular basis.”

A rumbling laugh leaves his throat as we leave the sparring room. “With all due respect, sire, you are the emperor. You can tell them to fuck themselves.”

“That’s an option,” I reply with humor.

We diverge when we reach the end of the hallway. I head up to my chambers so I can sit in my bathing pool to relax my muscles until it is time to meet my advisors.

Once I enter my chambers, I strip off my breeches and toss them into my soiled clothing piles for my staff to gather later. I step into my bathing room and wade into my pool, the cool water easing my sore and overheated muscles. I could heat the cold water with a simple spell, but the cold will do more for my aches and pains than warmer temperatures.

We have not had war in many years—though there have been minor skirmishes—but I like to keep in shape, just in case. Though most of my subjects have settled into my rule, there is always dissent somewhere. If that ever comes to pass, I’ll be ready.

Holding my breath, I sink under the water until my head is fully submerged. The action soothes me more, a cool flush making me shiver before I come back up for air.

After I am sufficiently cooled, I take hold of the cloth left for me beside the bathing pool and cleansing bar, lathering it up sufficiently. Then I wash roughly over my green skin until a tinge of red crops under its surface. The sweet smell of the bar burrows into my nose as I continue to cleanse myself.

My hand dips under the water and I cup my shaft, washing it just as roughly as the rest of my body. It is not as if I am using it.

As a youth, I spent ample time between the legs of orcs of all genders. I’d wile away my days learning how to touch and please them. But as I have aged and my responsibilities have grown, I have found that I have less and less to express my carnal desires. Though I do miss it.

I soak for a little while longer, wanting to avoid my duties for as long as I can. They never cease.

But they cannot be avoided forever.

I climb out of my bathing pool and dry myself off. It is now well after noon and the day is sweltering. I forgo a tunic and slide on a pair of loose pants and a pair of well-worn sandals. Ordinarily, I would dress for my station, but I do not have any official duties, as I and my advisors will be walking the grounds while we discuss matters of my kingdom. If I am to roam, I would like to be comfortable as I do.

When I am dressed, I look into the polished reflecting glass and gather my hair into a ponytail, the tresses longer on the top and cut close to my scalp everywhere else. I tie it back with a leather thong, hoping to keep it out of my face as we walk through the kingdom.

I would like nothing more than to take a day off. Ever since I ascended to my throne fifteen years ago, I have not had more than a few hours to unwind. I have to always be present for any problems that need solving. It is wearing on me, but it is more important that my subjects are happy and I rule fairly. Maybe one day, I shall have a break from my duties, but today is not that day.

Sighing, I take one last look at myself in the mirror, noting the bags and the dull glint to my eyes. Then, I shake myself and head out of my chambers, ready to face the day.

My advisors are waiting for me in my throne room, discussing my schedule. My lead advisor, Larek, eyes my bare chest with a grin. “Less formal today, I see?”

I return his grin with one of my own, pointing to his similar attire. “It appears we had the same thought. It is scorching outdoors, is it not?”

Like me, Larek only has on a pair of loose-fitting breeches and sandals. The only difference in our attires is his pants are tan, where mine are white, and he is wearing a holster with a blade attached.

My other advisor, Olog, has on a fine-mesh shirt with slighter tighter breeches than Larek and I are wearing. He is also wearing white, so better to repel the hot rays of the sun.

“Nothing we cannot handle,” Larek says. “Though if we encounter a stream on our journey, we can take a quick dip and must only shuck our bottoms. Olog will be held up on the shore, fiddling with his tunic.” We all laugh at Olog’s expense, though he does not seem to care about the friendly jab.

My city that houses my kingdom, Daz Vrokrad, nestled in the center of my country, Belzod, has plentiful streams. Oftentimes, you will find orcs swimming or simply having a midday repast near them. It is not uncommon to strip down to our undergarments on a hot day to cool down outdoors.

Waving my hand with a flourish, I say, “Lead the way, Larek.”

He barks a quick laugh and I, he and Olog leave my palace for the hot outdoors.

Our group steps out of the palace, the midday sun beaming down on us. The green tinge of our skin will darken the longer we are outside, but that does not bother me. Most of us orcs spend a fair amount of time outdoors and are used to the sun’s rays. The sweat dotting my brow and trickling down my back will help cool me for a time.

Larek puts his hands behind his back, walking on my left side. “Your Highness, there has been word from your brother that some orcs from his group have broken off on their own. There was a dispute about who would lead their pack. They are displeased with him, it seems. There have been a few minor skirmishes, but he has not indicated there is a big problem as of yet. Their leader is an orc by the name of Koth. How would you like to handle this?”

I do not answer right away, choosing my words wisely before I speak. My father had a terrible habit of speaking out of turn, then regretting his words later. One such instance brought about his death.

He met his end because he wanted to mount an attack on a group of ogres that were camping in our countryside. They were not causing harm or trouble, as they were simply passing through, but my father wanted them eradicated from his land for no other reason than he said they should be. His men thought it was a call to action instead of a heated explosion of words, and gathered his forces. Instead of my father dispelling their incorrect assumptions, he went along with it, believing more and more that his cause was the correct path. I tried to talk sense into him, as the ogres never intruded on our land and were deferential to orcs. But he would hear none of it. And he paid with his life.

While ogres are a milder race than orcs, they are by no means pushovers. Like orcs, they are always ready for war, as they are threatened more often than they should be. When my sire arrived in the ogre camp, they were ready for our forces, putting up a formidable fight. One of the ogres struck my father in the chest with an ax, almost cleaving him in two. After seeing the emperor laid low, the other orcs in our forces threw down their arms and fled with my father on their shields.

I refused to retaliate against the ogres after my father’s death, as they did not want to fight and did not initiate. I learned a valuable lesson after my sire’s death: never speak out of turn and never let my ego get the best of me, so as not to jeopardize my kingdom.

After a few beats of silence, I ask, “How many?”

Olog pipes up, “From our reports thus far, more than ten but less than twenty.”

I nod, looking out across the land as we walk. Twenty rogue orcs are not a large number, but any rogue orcs are too many. “Send a letter to my brother. Tell him to keep me in the loop and let me know if this rogue band gets out of order and I will send my guards to dispose of them. I want to know everything about this group before an uprising begins. We need to be prepared in case there is an attack.”

“Good plan,” Olog says, with Larek agreeing.

We pass by the market, orcs, a few humans and fairies bartering for their goods. A few orc women bow to me and murmur, “Your Highness,” then giggle behind their hands as they shuffle off.

It is not often I leave the walls of my palace, as there is much that needs doing and I do not have time to simply walk around for leisure, but when I do, there are always women vying for my attention, wishing for me to wed them.

All around, there are different pairings of mates, some orcs with humans, some with fairies, and some with other orcs of the same gender. Here in Belzod, one does not concern themselves about whom another chooses to mate, just so long as you treat one another with respect.

Larek nods towards an orc who has his arms around a slender human woman with red hair. She peers up at him with a loving expression, and his gaze reflects back in kind. “Do you think your mate is human or orc? Or any creature besides? Your fated mate, I mean.”

I bark a laugh I cannot hold back. The very notion is absurd. “Neither. I have no mate. I do not believe in them. I will choose whom I would like to be with, the fates be damned.”

He glances over at me, shaking his head. “Fated mates may be rare, but they do exist. From the stories I hear, the attraction is undeniable.”

“You sound like Nash.” My troublemaking brother with a rogue orc problem, Nash.

Larek gives me a sidelong look, but only says, “How so?”.

Not many orcs care for Nash as I do. He does as he likes. Nash may be a lord under my rule, but he lives far away from society, only upholding duties that he deems important, like patrolling the borders and watching the portals for danger. He does not waste his time on petty squabbles that he feels are beneath him. I sometimes envy that about him. I am greatly honored to represent the people of my land, but at times I wish I could leave it all behind as Nash did and live in the woods, enjoying a carefree life.

“He believes in the fated mates lore. I believe I will choose the individual I wish to mate and crown the empress or emperor consort of Belzod. He can keep those thoughts of the gods sending his mate to him. I am more realistic and make my own future. As most of us do.”

Both Larek and Olog are mated to orcs they chose. They were not sent some magical individual that was their perfect fit. I’ve always wondered why the so-called fates choose to give some people mates and not others. Are the gods so cruel that they do not believe everyone should have their perfect match? It seems unfair, as most of my kind think their mate is out there, waiting for them.

We meander around the market for another hour, then move on closer to our borders, discussing our weapons supplies and inspect the defenses we have around our perimeter. There have been no attacks or threats thereof since my father was killed fifteen years ago. Even still, I keep all of our defenses in great shape to avoid being overrun.

“Let us check in with scouts on the southern border and inspect the portal,” I say, not ready to return to the palace, where responsibilities await me. I want to be away from the stifling confines of the palace and the hard seat of my throne for a while longer.

Inspecting the portals is a duty I took upon myself when there was an influx of elves, humans, and fairies breaching them over the past fifteen years of my rule. All of them have found their mates, so they did not enter by mistake, but I must ensure no one else does.

For reasons no one of living memory can recall, there are portals all over Belzod that allow entry for the fated mates of subjects in my kingdom. They are in different places and from different worlds, and only those that are meant to be in my kingdom are granted entry. It is a mystery we have tried to solve for centuries, but we are no closer now than we were when they were discovered.

No unmated person from this side of the barrier can get through, even if they are walking side by side with someone that can. We have had many instances of someone crossing over while in a large group, causing more problems than we are able to solve quickly.

“As you wish,” Larek says, walking a step behind me. “While we walk, there is the matter of how we will take care of the rogue orcs when they are captured. Nash would need to be brought into the fold as well, of course. We could…”

As Larek goes into detail about our options, I only half-listen. My mind is still stuck on his question about mates. Going to the barrier always makes me wonder if they exist at all. The only way I will know for sure is if one crosses through for me. And that is unlikely to happen.

For now, I will be alone until which time I find it suitable to find a mate to call my own.

Being alone is not so bad.