Orc Lord

“Hey, Kurga, let me stretch that hide for you.”

The ordinary Orc woman looked up when she heard that voice. She saw one of her friends, Ashme, who had become a High Orc just the other day.

Lots of her friends and tribe kin had evolved under Lord Vyra’s rule. It was probably some kind of blessing from the Orc Lord. It was a blessing, but…

“Yeah, thanks.” Kurga rested a hand on her swelling belly and watched Ashme work. She had become a skinny thing after evolving, but her strength was still there. She had no trouble at all stretching the tough Fomor hide over the tanning rack. Still, she was far too skinny for a woman who had been with child just a few days prior.

Ashme had lost her child. Gilda, Gula, Yatta, Ferme, Durna, Reva, Gyura--and the list went on--they all lost their unborn children. Babett had evolved first, so there was no way to know if she was pregnant or not before that--she wouldn't show that early. Two women in the tribe had mates who had also evolved, and they were trying to conceive again quickly. The rest had already given up to wait for next year.

The mood is a little low. That’s why Ashme is trying to look out for me.

If it came down to it, would she rather keep her child or evolve? If she had a choice in the matter, which would it be?

And then, there’s him.

Kurga’s eyes drifted off to the well, where a short, human-like man was splashing water on his sunburnt face. As far as Kurga understood, that one had been accepted by Lord Vyra as a permanent resident. It wasn't a guest like the Humans in the past had been, nor was it a servant race like the Goblins or the Fomors.

Why does Lord Vyra show so much kindness to the descendants? Especially this Dwarf man--so skinny and weak looking--what use does he have? If it were for building a harem--if not an Orc, wouldn't something like a Troll please her more? Something pretty and smooth like a child can't possibly be satisfying.

“Kurga? I've finished. What are you glaring at?”

“Mnph.” Kurga looked at Ashme and her features which had also become more human-like. She felt relieved that her pretty tusks were still present. “I was looking at the Dwarf. Why do you think Lord Vyra brought him here?”

“Why? Hmph,” Ashme crossed her brawny arms and stared openly at the descendant of the Yols. “Even if his face is good, as expected, such a small body isn't suited to mating, huh?”

Kurga looked at her friend skeptically. “Just what about his face is good?”

Ashme tipped her messy head curiously. “You don't think so?”

“He has big eyes, a tiny nose, and slippery skin. At best, he’s offputting.”

“Really? But somehow I don't get a bad impression from that.”

“What on earth do you think of Orc men, in that case?”

“The handsome ones are handsome. What else should I think?”

“Well I think evolving messed with your head.”

“Kurga! Don't think I won't fight a pregnant woman.”

“Heh? Don't think you won't get beaten by a pregnant woman!”

Hearing their argument, an Orc who they could both agree was appealing to the eye came to intervene. He was nearly seven feet tall, with thick tusks and big muscles. His small golden irises captured the sunlight, telling a story of wild, beastly ancestry and adventure. The two immediately stopped their quarrel, happy to have such a man come to check on them.

“Even if you’re only playing around, it still isn’t good to fight,” Rigdam scolded the women lightly.

“Sorry, sorry. Will you settle an argument for us, then? Lord Rigdam.” Ashme asked boldly.

He watched her coy expression and gave a small nod. “Mmph. I can try.”

Kurga came in with her previous question. “Why did Lord Vyra let that Dwarf into the tribe?”.

Rigdam’s eyes slipped over to where Balig was resting in the shade of a building, and his thoughts were considerably tame.

It’s good that he’s finally given up on staying under the sun. My skin was starting to hurt from looking at him.

He turned back to Kurga and Ashme. “You may be convinced otherwise, but I usually don't understand what my daughter is thinking. I’ve seen them sharing writings, so perhaps she just wanted to borrow the wisdom of one of the descendants. Well, don't take my opinion too seriously. If you really want to know, it would be best to ask either of the two of them.”

“Like we care about it enough to do that,” Kurga snorted with a small smirk. “We’ll be too bored if we run out of gossip.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course,” Ashme showed her calloused palms. “If there’s nothing to listen to, the head won't be satisfied no matter how hard you work the hands. My momma used to tell me that the head has so many holes in it because the air inside was too stale. Then we huff and puff so much to keep a good breeze flowing.”

Rigdam hid his mouth behind his hand and laughed. “Hahaha. That’s interesting. Maybe your momma and my sister would get along. She likes to hear crazy things like that.”

Ashme’s sharp ears drooped and her eyelids sagged. “They won't be able to meet. Sorry.”

Kurga lowered her head and Rigdam realized his mistake. “So you were also involved in that. I'm sorry, I didn't know.”

“No, it’s fine. Lord Rigdam, your mother too was targeted, right?”

“Yes.”

A heavy silence held for a moment before Ashme spoke up again. “I don't think Lord Vyra knows about it yet. She was born in the summer after they came. Maybe somebody should tell her before she welcomes a Beast Person into our tribe too.”

“I was hoping that girl Fiara or that crazy mother of my daughter would free me from that burden. Telling the Orc Lord about a people who oppressed us is practically the same as declaring war myself.”

“You say it like you don't want to see them bleed,” Kurga chuckled. “None of us here believes that the father of our Lord-Chief lacks a taste for violence. It’s already asking too much that you're so gentle with your tribe. “There’s no such thing as a tame Orc.””

“Wandering Chief Ragna.” Rigdam grinned. “You two are Orc women alright. You're far too persuasive. I had some things to ask my daughter about tonight. I'll tell her about those Beast People while I'm at it. Best get back to your task before the skin dries.”

***

“Kuh! Straight lines don't work! Curved lines don't work! Open shapes, closed shapes, symmetrical, asymmetrical--nothing!”

“M-miss Fiara, please just take a break,” Gula, one of the Wisdom Orc’s unfortunate assistants for the day pleaded delicately.

“The chief asked me to make it work, you know?!” Fiara answered back after barely listening. “She believes I can do it. I want to show her she's right! Shit!” She rubbed her bloodshot eyes, then winced because it hurt to reopen them. Gula reached forward and forcefully kept them shut.

“Gula?! Why?!”

“Look, we won't take a break, okay?” The High Orc smiled nervously. “We’ll just switch to a different task for a few minutes, alright? A mental exercise where your eyes have to stay shut, it sounds good, doesn't it?”

“Mental exercise?” Fiara stopped struggling to hear her out.

“Right, right. We’ll play checkers, but you'll have to remember where all the pieces are. It’ll be a test of your memory.”

“Hmm. But, I really should be focusing on developing spacetime CSPs.”

“Miss Fiara, please show some moderation just this once!”

Yatta and Reva already said they won't be coming. It’s just me until dinner time! I can't bear to see the Lord-Chief’s reaction then if she hears I abandoned Miss Fiara!

Fiara could feel Gula’s intensity through her trembling hands. “Be careful not to break them. Their stamina for these things is fundamentally different from yours.” Vyra’s voice rang in her head, and Fiara let out a sigh. “I get it. We’ll play checkers.”

“Really?!” Gula released her hands, and Fiara obediently kept her eyes shut.

“Yeah. Quickly set things up.”

It’s not like I was making much progress anyway. Adelai can't remember everything from when she was alive, including spacetime magic. Even if she surveys the current world, spacetime magic has devolved into space magic, and it can't do what the chief wants.

“Alright, ready. I'm white, so, B2 to C3.”

Ten minutes passed and Fiara was the winner with three kings still on the board.

“Was that a good diversion? Can we get back to work now?” the research maniac asked with a bright smile.

“A-about that, Miss Fiara, isn't there anything else we can research besides spacetime magic? I just feel like it would be good if we could do something different and,” she rubbed her stiff neck, “actually make some progress. Is there nothing else the chief wanted you to look into?”

Of course, if there was such a request, there was no way Fiara would forget about it.

“There is. Alright, we’ll do that instead.”

***

What momma told me about rare skills made a lot of confusing things suddenly make sense to me. Some questions I didn't even realize I had suddenly had answers. For example, why can I learn some skills without intending to, and have to petition the spirits for others? In momma’s words, “The spirits won't mark someone they don't like.”

Skills are “engraved” into the soul shell--or an artificial copy of the soul shell, if the S system’s boundaries aren't breached. I was curious about that word choice, but I wrote it off. I used to be a lapidary in my old world. Carving was something normal and common in my life… and it was always something artificial.

But there are other kinds of carving. One good example would be those trails insects leave in wood and bark. That is more similar to the way Skills are engraved. And what are carvings like those for? For living things to use as shelter and transport.

When a I learn new skills, the spirits are carving comfortable places for them to rest into my soul shell. When I want to use a skill, I offer them my Magic Power, and they send experience and knowledge into my mind and body. They're… symbiotic organisms. Is organisms the right word? I can't call them parasites, since they're doing more good than harm as far as I can tell.

Anyway, skills are basically small colonies of spirits that have decided to take permanent residence inside my body--er, soul--until I die. And spirits have a will of their own. So, sometimes they will like a person and wait for the earliest moment they can make a home in them. Other times, you have to make the first move. There may even be some spirits who don't like me--skills I won't be able to learn even if I meet the requirements. Apparently it’s very rare, so maybe I don't have to worry so much.

Spirits are basically omniscient, as far as I can tell. They can read minds and see inside of people, so if my personal beliefs and philosophies are agreeable to some of them, they would clearly know it.

This is all just a roundabout way of saying that rare skills are rare not by nature of the skill itself, but because of the people in the world who could potentially learn them. There just aren't many whose personal desires and beliefs are agreeable to the spirit colonies that specialize in that particular skill.

I feel like I know now exactly why I was able to learn a rare skill like . The statistics, the interface, the game-like elements, this skill is completely natural to a person from my world who enjoyed video games or light novels with those themes. I was predisposed to learning it from the moment I arrived here.

Obviously, momma understood all of this because her skill is also a skill: a small colony of spirits that foretell important events and truths to her. Information from that skill about the spirits is perfectly reliable.

...For descendants with a holy attribute oracle skill, I wouldn't trust it as much.

Now then, we made it back to the city while I was pondering. I send the new slaves and the collared slaves to join the others. The plant-based food is sent to the storage house, and the corpses are sent to the women for processing. Before my body cools down too much, I intend to get some flying practice in.

It’s windy today. I didn't feel it much at ground level, but it’s somewhat strong atop the wall. Looking over the edge, I have mixed emotions. Feelings of fear, and my experiences--good and bad--from the last time rise back up to the front of my mind.

I can't just keep thinking myself in circles.

The sense of impulsiveness and adventure that I'm avoiding, isn't that exactly what I would have dreamed of having if I ever went to a fantasy world?

Moving to the back of the wall, I clutched at the stone as my heart thumped in my chest. I started to beat my wings as I kept myself firmly braced, then I ran forward and jumped. The world became a confusing scene as I unintentionally somersaulted once in the air, but I managed to turn rightside up. At first, feeling only relief and anticipatory panic, I only glided just like before, but my weight only dragged me closer to the ground. Not to mention, the slower my speed became, the more my body threatened to take a nosedive, thanks to my pointlessly large upper half. I need to somehow control my momentum, but was it possible with a heavy Orc’s body?

I don't know much about birds, but I thought I heard something interesting about the albatross. It’s one of the biggest flying birds. It’s heavy as far as birds go, but it has a huge wingspan and crazy strength. It has trouble taking off, but its strong wings carry it across oceans.

I'm a glorified bipedal pig with wings. I'm big, I'm heavy, and I'm afraid of heights, but I'm sure stronger than any damn bird.

And I flapped my wings in the air for the first time during actual flight. And I didn't lose my balance.

Something about it feels good. Like riding a bike and pedaling with all your strength, then turning too hard around a corner, but knowing you can make it.

I'm not sure why a stupid thought like that came to mind. It’s enough to say that I flapped my wings again, harder this time. Sweeping winds stirred up below me, and I actually took back some altitude.

Harder! Again!

It’s not like I hold back my strength when I'm on the ground--not consciously--but I don't think I've ever swung such heavy blows as what began to burst from my wings. The wide area touched by my feathers was pushed back altogether like a platform of air from each wing. They met below me and crashed together, swirling around each other. That sensation sent shivers up my spine: very good shivers.

I started to take control of where my wings were taking me. I experimented with gaining and losing altitude; speeding up and slowing down; putting on the breaks and diving, only to swoop back up again. I started to tip my body to either side, making use of every muscle in my body to perfectly complement my intended path of motion. Finally, when I was panting and sweating from the constant effort, I stopped in place and pumped my wings to stay airborne.

I'm roughly in the center of the area encompassed by the walls, and I can see my city from here. It’s not the same as looking at it from atop the wall, or while gliding for the first time in a barely-suppressed panic. I feel like I'm looking at an entirely different place.

From here, with this view, it would be perfect.

It’s hard to focus on spellcasting while flying, so I give the spirits some extra magic power to help me with the construction. From there, I poured in everything I had to offer (the adrenaline flooding my system wouldn't allow me to hold back), and let it loose.

I was standing over just the right spot. So, without having to land, I reached out to grasp the towering steeple and propped my feet against the slanted shingles, then let my wings down to rest. My most glorious castle that I fantasized about before sleeping, here it is. It’s made purely of dirt and clay, but it’s sixty feet tall with towers and spires and was made in one go with third level earth magic. I would like to see anyone talk down about it.

After resting for a moment, I glide down from the castle spire and land with only some stumbling. I glance down at my right hand, which has been itching for some reason, but I shrug it off. I feel like I ignored Fiara somewhat today, even if it couldn't be helped that I had things to do outside the village, so I want to check in with her first.

“Lord Vyra!” The High Orc, Gula, is the one who noticed me first. Both she and Fiara had their noses buried in tablets as they etched words furiously.

Fiara raised her head and showed a bright smile. “Chief!”

“You look happy,” I chuckled. “Did you figure something out?”

Fiara set down the tablet she was working on and shook her head. “I've been having too much trouble with spacetime CSPs. Space CSPs, on the other hand, I've had some luck with.”

I blinked and looked down at the stone tablet she’d set aside. At the bottom center, a small Spell Pattern was carved. My eyebrows shot up when I saw it.

“I thought for sure you would use light or dark based illusion magic for that. You already had the previous example.”

Fiara smiled and pressed her finger down on the little Spell Pattern, putting a small amount of Magic Power in. Like some kind of lie, the clay panel set in the middle slid into the stone side and disappeared, followed immediately by a different clay panel sliding in. Similar to an electronic device, she could switch between the different “pages.”

“Illusion Magic was fine, but the more complex the task became, the higher the cost it demanded to activate. It’s inefficient and bad for storing a lot of information. Space magic didn't cost much more magic power to use even as I continued to add to it. And also,” she smiled proudly, “Well, just try it yourself.”

Giving the blue Orc a curious look, I pressed my index finger against the Spell Pattern and put in a small amount of power. A familiar sensation was returned to me. Just like with and , it was the sensation of choices. Next page, previous page, first page, last page.

I'm impressed as it stands, but I still looked to Fiara for an explanation.

“Well, space magic stores things, right? It’s also possible to store several smaller Spell Patterns inside a more complex one.”

“You can keep space magic inside of space magic?” I interpreted, tilting my head to the side.

“There’s no real reason to think you couldn't. Space magic is space magic. It doesn't concern itself so much with “what” is stored as “where” is stored. It stores a certain space--a certain area--and doesn't concern itself with whatever might be inside.”

My eyes lit up despite myself, and I broke out into a wide grin. My brain was already conjuring hypothetical consequences of that fact. “Interesting! It’s interesting!”

“I know, right?!” Fiara’s expression soon mimicked my own. She rubbed at her bloodshot eyes, but otherwise beamed with satisfaction. “But in comparison, spacetime magic is way too hard. No matter what I try, I can't make a CSP that will hold magic power for more than a moment.”

She looks considerably upset about it. I'm already in the mood, so let’s see if there’s anything at all that I can offer to help. “Mind if I take a look at what you have so far?”

She frowned slightly and pulled a stone tablet out of a stack. It bore a very curvy design, with lots of parallel lines and concentric circles.

“This one stutters on and off. It’s the best I've managed these past two days.”

I give the Spell Pattern a close look, but it’s too much to ask me to understand all the intricacies of proportions and such. In the first place, there’s a reason Fiara has the skill and I don't. Even the idea that the lines in the carving aren't allowed to cross without a node intersecting them creates too much of a challenge for me. I mean, give me a break. I was a lapidary, not someone who built circuit boards.

Anyway, since looking isn't enough for me, I put in some magic power to feel things out.

Like Fiara said, it stutters. On and off, on and off. What is this?

Feeling confused by the sensation that was like TV static, I could only try for a little longer to pick up on any hints. I felt things out for a solid minute before letting out a sigh and taking my hand away. In that split second when the stuttering went away, I felt like I noticed something. Tilting my head curiously, I put my hand back on the tablet and started again to put in Magic Power. After adjusting to the odd feeling again I cut off the magic supply. That same sensation stirred briefly at the backs of my ears.

“... Spinning.”

I muttered it quietly, so Fiara had missed it. “What was that?”

Looking up to meet her eyes, I tilted my head. “It feels like my Magic Power is spinning around in circles.”

She furrowed her brow and sat closer to me while I gestured at different parallel lines in the Spell Pattern. “One moment, I feel my magic power rush through like this. The next it's here, then here, and then it’s back at the start again.”

Fiara stared intently at where I was pointing, fighting to try and understand.

“There was a really smart man in that place,” I told her, conscious of Gula sitting nearby listening in. “He had a number of amazing theories that reshaped the science of that place. I don't understand all of it, but a part was that space and time are intrinsically linked. If time changes, space also changes. I think, maybe, a spacetime Spell Pattern has to account for that.”

Fiara’s mouth was starting to open as her eyes grew wide. I could see that she only needed one last push.

“What if you made the lines,” I looked at her with wide and clear eyes, “thicker?”

No sooner did the words leave my mouth than Fiara snatched the Spell Pattern back and splashed some water on it to soften the clay for etching. I sat still and watched for a minute as her stylus swept across the surface in smooth lines. When she was finished, she bluntly requested my wrist for fresh blood, and I gave it over with a wry smile.

Basically, I was shut out after that point. Fiara buried herself in research entirely. I gave Gula some more of my blood to use and then left.

She’ll be busy with that for a while. So, the next thing on my list, would it be studying those Spell Patterns Balig gave me?

As I was thinking of heading off to do that, father tracked me down and stopped me.

“Vyra, do you have a moment to talk?”

“Mm? Sure, what is it?” He sounds a little more serious than usual. I wonder if something happened while I was away.

“Hmph. Maybe not here.” He looked around then saw the wall in the distance. “How about up there?”

By the time we reached the top of the wall, I'm feeling considerably nervous. Things like getting called to the boss’s office or being told to see a teacher after class, I'm not good with that anxiety. I always expect I'll be reprimanded for something, though it’s only ever turned out that way on a handful of occasions.

So, what did you want to talk about?

I couldn't get those stressful words out, so I just waited for him to start things.

“Well, let’s see,” father rubbed the back of his head and stared out at the castle in the distance. “It’s about something that happened shortly before you were born. That is, it happened this past winter. Many of the people from your generation were affected by it.”

“What happened?” I'm glad I'm not being scolded for something, but now I'm worried for a different reason.

“Some Beast People came to the West forest, looking for a fugitive.”

“A fugitive?”

“They didn't say anything else about the person, only that she was likely pretending to be a woman in one of our tribes. They didn't know what she looked like, so,” he trailed off and lowered his head. His ears drooped down, and I couldn't bring myself to prompt him forward. We stood quietly until he forced himself to speak.

“They killed any potential suspects indiscriminately. Any woman who had migrated between tribes in the past half year was targeted. My own mother, and your friend Fiara’s mother were both killed at that time. What I mean is, please keep in mind that there’s a complicated relationship between our race and that group before you treat Beast People the same way you do Dwarves and Humans.”

… I'm speechless. Maybe because I don't know what to think or how to react to that, my brain focuses on something stupid. “She’s my sister. My blood sister, not just my friend. We swore an oath blessed by Ashtante.”

Right, Ashtante, the creator of the Noct, who became the Beast People. Fiara was made an orphan and blessed as my sister by the same ultimate source?

“Vyra?” Rigdam looked at me with concern. “Are you alright?”

This feeling is a bit more complicated, but I can certainly still identify it as anger.

“Something unpleasant happened that I can't do anything about, and now I'm all worked up.”

“Even if it was terrible, it was still just the actions of a few. There’s no need to go to war with the whole of the Beast Person species,” he cautioned me.

Of course I know that already. I know it wouldn't do any good.

“Sorry, I need to let off some steam,” I said shortly while diving off the edge of the wall. With a great flap of my wings, I was propelled high into the air. I flew fast and slammed my feathered agents hard against the innocent sky. When I had calmed down and resorted to bobbing dully in place, I allowed myself to be distracted again by the itching feeling in the palm of my right hand.

...Spirits, what sort of weapon should a Dominance Orc use?