Orc Lord

“... Cute.”

Runa settled down onto a precarious tree branch as if it were a comfortable sofa. Her eyes shone with an illusory orange light. Her field of vision cut through dozens of feet of forest and focused on a small clearing between the trees and houses.

There, she was watching the Orc chief Vyra practicing with her new wings. She brought them up and down again in simple motions, and occasionally came off balance and fell down.

Then, the Ranger girl sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes sparkled, her heart beat faster, and her cheeks flushed red. Vyra had spread her wings to their maximum size. They were huge--as long as she was tall, and half as wide, with tan feathers proudly fanning out. Runa swallowed the saliva in her mouth and reached down to her belt.

From a hidden pocket in her pouch, she took a small white crystal, perfectly round in shape. “.” She used the expensive magic tool to record an image of that scene forever, and hugged the stone close to her chest.

Even though I hate pigs, and Orcs are even worse, she smiled, and her shoulders curled in slightly, Just this one is good.

***

I think I'm getting a feel for this. I've gone through every position my wings can be in, and I've felt how that changes my center of gravity. I think I've caught on to something good.

Combined, my wings are as heavy as I am. Depending on how I hold them, I can stand in impossible positions and move at impossible angles. I had to fall down a lot to understand that. But I think, if I can master these movements, I can incorporate them into my fighting style.

In addition to that, I've found another good point to these unreasonably heavy wings. They make me heavier. It sounds silly when I say it like that, but weight is very important in combat. Normally, if I wanted to kick a boulder, I would have to put a certain amount of momentum behind my strike in order to not be blown back. If it's a battle between two living creatures, the one that can rely on weight to push the other back saves that much more of their power for actually doing damage.

It's not a case of “the heaviest fighter wins,” but martial arts separate their competitions into weight classes for a reason. I weigh about four hundred pounds, which puts me at the peak of the heavyweights.

And once I'd thought that far, I started to wonder if I could use my wings themselves to attack. When they're bunched up, I'm pretty sure they could deal the force of a strong kick. And since I have I don't have to worry about wrecking the feathers or anything like that.

I've put most of my morning into this practice, so I should probably take a break to check on the village.

As I thought so, Momma came to visit me.

“Hey, baby~” she called sweetly.

“Good morning, momma,” I smiled. “Did you come to see my evolution?”

“Yup! I was practicing magic, and I hear they is talking about you. Wah~ so happy my baby can evolve!”

“Yeah. Apparently this evolution is called a Dominance Orc. It was a bit hard to get a handle on it, but I think I'm adjusting.”

“Hoh~ To be honest, part of me was expected that baby might be the first Orc to skip straight to Queen.”

“Hm? Queen Orc? There’s an evolution like that?” I tilted my head in curiosity.

“Yup. There is Queen Orc for girl and King Orc for boy. Because they is ruling Orcs, sometimes they is called Orc Lord.”

“Oh, so that’s what the Orc Lord is.” I thought the evolution would simply be called Orc Lord. I'm a little surprised.

Momma smiled and shook her head. “No no, real Orc Lord is different. They just calling it like that because they similar.”

“Eh? Then, how do you evolve into an Orc Lord if King and Queen won't do it? Do you have to go up one more step?”

“No,” Momma frowned slightly. “I tell you already, right? Orc Lord is born when Orcs is facing disaster.”

I placed my hand on my chin and thought for a minute. Then my eyes opened wide as I suddenly understood. “You mean, the Orc Lord is literally born that way from the start? You can't become one later?”

“Yup, yup!” Momma bobbed her head and grinned.

Ahh, so, I can't become the Orc Lord then? That’s too bad. Thanks to the memories from my previous life, I had set that as my unofficial goal, but if it’s impossible…

“Oh! I forget!” Momma clapped her hands suddenly and tilted her head. “Varoon is leaving soon. You should saying goodbye.”

“What? So soon? He hasn't even been here a day yet.” I only just met him, but I feel a little bit lonely now.

“If he not back soon to fight, he get in trouble,” momma shook her head, looking serious. “Expansionist tribes not treat deserters good. He have to beat a War Orc to get permission for leaving.”

“Isn't that impossible for an Orc?” I said with concern.

Momma scoffed. “Your brother fight Fomors for half a year. His magic power should be lots. If it is young and inexperienced War Orc, he should can win.”

Really? Maybe it's his pessimistic personality, but I kind of got the impression Varoon was weak. I'll use Analyse to find out when I see him off.

***

In a well decorated, tasteful room, abundant with expensive red-dyed textiles, an immaculate woman with long golden hair paced back and forth. Her hair was tied up in a braided knot that supported a ponytail. Her skin was fair and her eyes a pretty blue. However, no matter how elegant she looked in her dress, her expression was stern, and she gave of the feeling of a knight or a soldier, instead of an ordinary upper class woman.

Sitting on the couch she was pacing in front of, was a young man with similar blonde hair, fair skin, and blue eyes. He was dressed much less impressively, in simple leather armor, with a few metal plates sewed on over his vitals. He wore a sword at his hip. Normally, weapons should be confiscated at the entrance in a noble house, but even the beautiful woman was wearing one over her dress.

“This is the second time I've been forced to say this, and you know I don't like repeating myself,” the woman said coldly. “If you want to continue these foolish endeavors of yours, you must keep up contact with the house.”

“Yes, mother,” Rudan murmured, staring at his knees where his hands were balled into fists.

“If you fail again to send the expected correspondence, you will be brought back and re-disciplined.”

“Yes, mother.”

“But before anything else,” the woman stopped pacing, “one of your sisters will check that your skills haven't gotten rusty after running around playing warrior.”

Renée Sartiella, head of the Sartiella knight house, clapped her hands twice. Subsequently, a pair of double doors at the far side of the room opened. In walked a beautiful young woman. Her long blonde hair was braided into a crown, and she wore light mithril armor over her summer attire.

“Anise and Claudia are training at the academy, and Marilyn is on an expedition for the kingdom. Therefore, Silvia here will test you.”

Rudan hurriedly stood up and bowed. “Greetings, eldest sister.” He looked up again, “Should you be at the house? Weren't you getting married a few weeks ago?”

“Ah, that,” the twenty-four year old woman bowed her head politely. “The good Earl Hugh Windmaker came down with a terrible case of trying-to-touch-where-he-shouldn't about a week before the wedding. The service was postponed until his braces are removed, so he can wear his suit properly. Although the ceremony was pushed back, the papers have already gone though, so there’s nothing for you to worry about, little brother. I am officially Countess Silvia Sartiella-Windmaker.”

Silvia smiled a gentle, mature smile and tilted her head toward the door. “Shall we go test your swordsmanship now, little brother?”

Rudan felt himself starting to sweat. “Yes, eldest sister.”