Orc Lord

The competition became fiercer as time went on. Especially the hungry Orcs that lost repeatedly began to learn some interesting spells. Mother and I were referees, while Fiara was standing at the side, memorizing all the new spells she saw with . I know how good her memory is, so I’m happy to leave that task to her.

Well, at some point, the games had to end. People started running out of Magic Power, and we had used a little more food than I had intended.

But still, this war is turning into a good excuse to spur my people forward. Already, I've used it as an excuse to begin a new city, recruit members of other tribes, and train Magic casters. I wonder what else I can use it to jump start?

… Merit system.

Currently, in my village, everyone is provided for. Aside from some people being quicker or slower to grab food at dinner, the treatment is just about equal. That community style is fine in a small village where my authority reaches every corner, but is it still possible in a big city? A city has more people to complete tasks. If people aren't motivated to work and only aim to have fun all the time… Well, work almost was fun in the village, especially with me introducing new ways to do things. But I intend to make a comfortable place with modern conveniences. I know well that when there are things that fun to do, why would you want to work when you'll be taken care of anyway?

The answer that most places I know of came to was money. Necessities were not provided; they were obtained through the exchange of money. Ideally, money was a representation of a person’s contribution to society.

Anyway, I think, for my city, a socialistic economy would be best. I can worry about the details later. For now, let’s explain the most important part to those gathered. They were looking a little bored with the Magic Games finished anyway.

“Attention, everyone,” I called. “We are heading into an important battle tomorrow morning. I would like to see to it that those who fight well are appropriately rewarded for their efforts. I think we all know that there is no one more skilled than the spirits at evaluating the results of battle. Everyone who wants to fight tomorrow, will have their Magic Power measured first.”

I would love to do it now, but I'm still drained. The Magic casters, too, wouldn't get an accurate assessment like this. It will have to wait until everyone has rested.

There were only vegetables for dinner tonight. The results tomorrow have to make up for that. Before bedtime, I have enough Magic Power to make some tablets. There, I write the details of my new spells for Fiara, and she begins to record the results of the Magic Games. In the morning, there are a few errands to run, and then… we go to war.

***

Everyone who wants to fight today is gathered before me. I have created a miniature tablet for each of them. On a bigger tablet, I have detailed explanation of our new official measurement system.

I see Magic Power with or as something fog-like that extends from the core of the body. Unless active effort is put in, its density remains the same. More or less, the total amount can be estimated by how far it extends from the core.

We needed a standard, repeatable way to measure distance. For this, I plucked out a few of my feathers a while ago and compared their lengths. The down feathers are close to an inch long, but they're too feeble to measure with. The feathers at the tip are easily a foot long, but most people won't have auras that wide. I found a feather that was exactly one-third the length of my longest feathers and decided to use that.

The Orcish word for small bird, fet, sounds a little like the English word for feather, so I'll use that to call the measurement by.

The fibers on the feathers were uniform in width, and there were four hundred ninety seven of them. I decided that every five fibers would equal one centifet, and that five hundred fibers exactly would be one fet. I sketched those measurements onto a thin tablet to be used as a ruler. This one is mostly for demonstration. I have one that’s five fets long for more normal use. For measuring the exceptional people, I also made a ruler ten fets long.

Holding up the one fet ruler, I explained to the people gathered, “The length of this ruler shall be known as one fet. It is divided evenly into one hundred smaller portions. Each of these is a centifet. I will be using this type of measurement to estimate the horizontal radius of your auras.”

“This ruler is exactly ten fets long, or one decafet. I won't have to use it on many of you now, but perhaps at the end of the war,” I trailed off and smiled pointedly.

I had made more tablets before gathering the others here, and Fiara had finished recording the new spells from yesterday. She’s now following me as an assistant to write down the numbers I call off.

“Remember, something like twenty-one centifets can be written as zero point two one fets. Three centifets: zero point zero three fets. Thirty centifets: zero point three fets. One fet, thirty one centifets: one point three one fets. Please keep the formatting uniform. Write the name in the top left corner and the measurement in the center.”

Fiara nodded repeatedly with bright eyes. I smiled and we approached the first Orc.

“State and spell your name,” Fiara requested while I measured the Orc’s aura. I’m using the five fet ruler for this. Fiara wrote out the Orc’s name and then the numbers I called out. This continued all the way down to the end of the line.

In the time that took, the Goblins have transported many of the plants to the new fields I had quickly made this morning. I also made a large basin which Fiara filled with water. The people staying behind will survive until our return. Now, if I'm guessing by the position of the sun, it's about ten o'clock.

“Alright, combatants, grab your weapons and armors. Those who can, please choose blunt weapons. The Fomors’ hide resists blades. Magic casters, you’ll be supporting at the back, so please choose a weapon you're comfortable with for self defense. Everything we kill, we will eat, so expect a feast tonight.”

That brought resounding cheers, and I can tell people are eager to head out. We’re bringing three wagons with us to hold our kills so we can carry them all back before the enemy can give them funerals. Also, if there are any injured, we can use a wagon to rush them to me.

Unfortunately, my role in this war is similar to the commanding general. I won't be fighting on the front lines unless something powerful appears. If I and a few others are the only powerful people in my tribe, we won't last against more advanced races with refined warfare. Durghan, momma, Fiara, Irsha, Varoon, and the War Orcs will be the heavy hitters of this group, while I stay back, using

and to assess the situation and give orders, and heal on the wounded brought to me. Rigdam is staying back with auntie, to make sure she doesn't try to follow us to battle.

“One last thing,” I say before the march. “If there are noncombatants, there is no need to slaughter them. We will use them for slave labor. Any who surrender, as well, take them as prisoners.”

My small army shouts battle cries in response, and I give the order to move out. There is a village that could use its position to skillfully entrap my fledgling city if I don't take it out first, so that’s where we’re heading. It's just a few hours to the North. I have the group move at an easy trot, so the time taken is reduced and they're good and warmed up.

For the first time, I can see with my eyes, the structure of a Fomor Village. Cone-shaped huts made of thatched pines were built in concentric rings around a large fire pit. There was a decorated hut that seemed more like a priest’s house than a chief’s house.

tells me that most of the people present are women. Many of them look to be grieving. Presumably their loved ones haven't come back from fighting with the Expansionist Orcs.

I pity them, but that is as far as it goes. It's obvious that the enemy will have loved ones and family just like us, that we’re not so different. Anyone who goes to war thinking otherwise is in for a rude shock. But that doesn't matter, as we came for a battle. Those who don't surrender will be killed and become food for my people.

If my army has any hesitation after seeing what lies before them: the trodden state of their fallen enemy, I will take on the responsibility for their actions. They can just follow my orders and be absolved of any guilty feelings.

I would like to announce first, “surrender or die,” but I don't know the Fomor language. We will just have to storm in and take the village.

“Charge!” I order.