As Orcs Like It, Chapter 20 Version 2 (WIP) (Patreon)

The white stag was one of the rarest sights in all of the wild lands. The halflings had a legend that the white stag was a messenger from the Malaika. The elves believed that each stag was an elven lord who'd transformed into a stag to be one with nature. And the orcs considered them a rare game to hunt, for the glory of their creators, Hircus and Bos.

The clock tower's bell rang four in the afternoon. A group of knights stepped through the gate to bring their game to the table. The orcs carried the body of a great white stag over their heads. The stag's horns were snapped off and made to dangle around its own neck on a string.

Bastmet and Callahan were sitting in the public forum, both princes taking a drink from a flask of wine. Lord Owen sat at the head of the table, whilst the dragons Kijomo and Vokeno sat upon their haunches.

"Greetings, gentlemen!" Corrin exclaimed. "We've had a successful hunt!"

"Oh?" The princes looked up to see the group come forwards with the stag.

"Well would you look at that!" Bastmet exclaimed. "I've heard a lot of stories about white stags in the wild lands, but I didn't think I'd ever see one."

"We didn't either." Havesh said. "It just came right up out of nowhere."

"So, who was the one who managed to kill the deer?" Callahan asked.

"It was Havesh!" One of the knights called. "He plugged the creature right between the eyes with a longbow."

"Impressive." The prince nodded.

"It was lucky shot, my prince." Havesh put his hands out and shrugged. "I'm more of a poet than a hunter."

"It doesn't matter; it was a valiant effort." Callahan clasped his hands together to draw the knights' attention. "Take the remains of the stag to the hunting lodge so its head can be added to the collection. But give the horns to Havesh; they're his prize for taking down the stag."

"I thank you, my prince, but that's not necessary." Havesh shook his head.

"Nonsense!" Callahan exclaimed. "The hunt of a white stag is a blessing from the Malaika. The horns are yours by right."

“Well, if you insist…” Havesh shrugged is shoulders.

"The hunt of such incredible game calls for something special." Owen said. "Sir Havesh, would you be as bold as to sing with your bards a song of the hunt?"

"I'll do you one better." Havesh grinned. "We'll sing a song about the greatest hunter of all orckind."

Sir Havesh had his bards gather up their musical instruments. Everyone else got quiet as the listened to the orc knight begin one of his orcish ballads:

In an age long ago, during great times of strife,

A demon of the wastes sought to wipe out orc life.

The beast devoured every orc; man, woman and child,

Save for one pregnant lass who hid out in the wild.

She gave birth alone, to a healthy orc boy,

She held him quite close as she cried tears of joy.

The mother left him safe in the shelter of the trees,

And prayed to the Malaika, whilst down on her knees.

The mother set her babe down, so shield him that night,

When she awoke, the Malaika had cast down their light.

Her son was a man, with eyes full of flame,

And the messengers of on high did cry out his name:

“Dotalan!” The crowd cried out. Havesh gave a bow as everyone applauded.

“Let us never forget the sheer power of the hero Dotalan.” Havesh declared. “He is the ancestor of all the orc tribes, and the one who first crafted the blades we call Scimitars and slew the demon.” Havesh drew a scimitar from a sheath and held it aloft. “With these blessed weapons, we defeat all who threaten us!”

The orcs all cheered. Lord Owen was positively joyous. Even Callahan couldn't help but join his brother Bastmet in happiness.

As Havesh settled down, and the orcs collected themselves, Callahan sat down in his chest to take a breath. He thought about the song's lyrics, particularly the part about Dotalan crafting his scimitars. Callahan sighed and shook his head to avoid thinking too hard about them.

"What's gotten into you, brother?" Bastmet quietly asked.

"Father's scimitars..." Callahan said quietly.

"What about them?"

"Father left then behind that day," The elder prince said, "when he ventured out of the Castrum. He thought he'd make do with just a spear. I tried to convince him otherwise, but..."

Callahan sighed and shook his head. "Father told me that it wasn't my place to question him, as he was the head of the household. And Azimus, as the eldest prince, would become the next head of the household after his passing."

“That’s not what was said in Father’s will.” Bastmet said. “Clearly he changed his mind at some point.”

“Yes, but now you are to be the head of the household.” Callahan sighed. “One brother will be a king, and the other will be a diviner.” He clasped his hands together. “And me? I’m just a brigadier general. I’ll always be the unimportant middle child.”

Bastmet grimaced. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and tried to think for a moment on what to say. Callahan eventually gave him an annoyed look and wrenched his shoulder free. Across the way, Lord Owen sighed sadly at the brothers.

“What is it, Owen?” Callahan demanded.

“I…” The aged rider grimaced. “I’m sorry, my princes.”

“For what?” Bastmet asked.

“For…” Owen sucked in a breath. “For not being there for the late king. No matter his arsenal, I should have been there for him that day.” He placed his right hand over his left and sighed. “Perhaps my sister Jotuna was right: I was unfit to serve the royal family.”

Callahan and Bastmet exchanged worried glances, while Sir Havesh walked over and sat down beside the aged rider.

"There's nothing we can do to change the past." Havesh said. "It's a hard fact to accept, but it was King Ransus's fate to suffer those wounds on that day. But despite that, he still died an honorable death, I'm sure of it."

"That's not exactly helping, Sir Havesh." Bastmet snapped.

“He’s right.” Callahan shook his head. “That’s exactly what father would say if he were here.”

“I should stop while I’m ahead.” Owen shook his head. “The foul mood will ruin out appetites. Let’s not dwell on what was lost.”

"But what about your loss, Owen?" Callahan asked. "Don't you miss your daughters?”

Owen froze. He sucked in a breath and tried not to let tears flow. "There… There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about my daughters. But I can't exactly scour the whole of the empire to find them. Wherever Frida and Karilis are, I pray to the Malaika that they're alright."

Bastmet stood up from the table and stretched out his back. He checked the clock tower: He still had an hour and a half before he was to rejoin Tros and Ragnar at their residence. The prince had plenty of time.

"I think I could do with a walk." The young prince said. "I'm going to take a walk in the forest to the southwest of here. Would anyone care to join me?"

The other orcs and mercenaries seemed too preoccupied with their meals. Adam rose to stand up, but a cracking noise in his back made him groan and sit down. Bastmet sighed in pity at that. It seemed that he was to go it alone.

“How about me?” A gruff voice asked. Bastmet was surprised to find an orc in red armor standing just behind him, their arms crossed.

“My, what an entrance.” Bastmet snorted. “Judging by that gear, is it safe to assume that you’re the third member of the Scarlet Bandits?”

“I go by Volsung.” The orc muttered. “And I could use some exercise beyond the Castrum’s walls, if you’re still offering.”

“Sure…” Bastmet said dubiously. “Though I’m not sure why you of all people would wish to join me.”

“I need a break from my companions, as do most people.” Volsung said. "With any luck, we might spy another white stag out there."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up; a white stag comes once ever few decades." Bastmet chuckled. "But I welcome you to my side."

“Well, let’s be off, and find out.” The orc nodded. They tossed Bastmet a sheathed sword. “Here. You never know when you’ll need a silver-treated weapon.”

“Right…” The prince said as he attached it to his belt.

And with that, the prince and the bandit made their way to the southern exit of the Castrum. What harm was there in a little walk?