Chapter 14: The Legend of Waka Part 2

The next morning, mist clung low over the river, curling around the docks as the Chief’s son and his escorts prepared to leave the friendly riverside village. He stood at the bow of a borrowed flatboat, arms crossed, staring dramatically into the fog.

“Waka-sama,” one escort said from the back, “perhaps you should sit. The river is calm, but—”

“Heroes stand,” he declared. “It looks better for morale.”

Not three minutes later, he sat down. “Standing is overrated.”

The boat drifted into narrower waters, reeds giving way to overhanging branches. By midday, they reached the next settlement — a sturdier riverside village with watch platforms and wide piers. Spears lined the walls, and sharp-eyed sentries watched them approach. This was a community prepared to defend itself.

When they were brought before the local elder, the air seemed cooler somehow. The elder’s voice was calm but firm.
“We have heard of the ogres’ strength. And of their alliance with the Orcs. Why should we side with you instead?”

The Chief’s son straightened, slipping into his “noble diplomat” mode. “Because unity is the only path forward. My father believes—”

The elder held up a claw. “Your father is far away. The Orcs are closer.”

For a moment, the Chief’s son froze. This was not the usual respectful nodding he was used to.

“Waka-sama,” one escort prompted quietly.

He cleared his throat. “Closer, yes. But the Orcs are tied to the ogres — and the ogres serve only their own ambition. Once they win, do you truly think they will share their spoils with you?”

The elder’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You speak like someone who knows their ways.”

“I speak like someone who’s been told I have to travel for weeks to talk people into joining us,” he said, before catching himself. “Uh — which I do gladly. For the good of the forest. Obviously.”

The elder studied him for a long moment. The escorts shifted uneasily. Finally, the elder said, “Your words carry some truth. But we will need proof that the Orcs can be swayed.”

The Chief’s son nodded solemnly. “Then you shall have it.”

In his head, he added, …assuming I don’t get eaten by something on the way there.

That night, during the evening meal, he sat apart from his escorts, staring at the firepit. A village child crept closer, eyes wide.

“Is it true you fight swamp crocodiles bare-handed?”

He blinked. “…What?”

“I heard you scared one away just by looking at it!” the child said with awe.

Realizing the bridge rumor had traveled ahead of them, the Chief’s son smiled faintly. “Yes. And I didn’t even have to get up.”

The child gasped and ran off to spread the story. The Chief’s son leaned back, smirking. “Maybe this whole ‘hero’ thing isn’t so hard after all.”

The road south narrowed into twisting causeways of damp earth, flanked on both sides by dark water deep enough to swallow a lizardman whole.

The Chief’s son trudged along the middle, muttering. “Days of walking, wet ground, weird smells… This is no job for a future leader. This is a job for… someone else. Like… anyone else.”

“Waka-sama,” one escort said from behind, “you volunteered for this mission.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I agreed in public because saying no would’ve been awkward. Big difference.”

By midday, the group came upon another settlement — a cluster of huts on stilts, connected by rope bridges. The place looked half-hidden in the marsh, as though it had grown straight out of the swamp.

As they stepped onto the main walkway, a shout rang out: “Watch out!”

The Chief’s son turned just in time to see a rope bridge fraying, its planks sagging under a heavy load of baskets. Without thinking, he stepped forward, caught the nearest rope with one clawed hand, and leaned back to steady it.

The baskets slid safely to the center platform, their carrier scrambling behind them.

Gasps rose from the villagers.
“Such strength!” one murmured. “Such quick reflexes!”

The Chief’s son blinked, still holding the rope. “Uh… yeah. Totally meant to do that.”

The elder of the settlement came forward to thank him personally, offering marshfruit and smoked fish.
“This bridge is vital to us,” the elder said. “Without your help, we might have lost part of our supplies.”

The Chief’s son put on his best noble smile. “I am always happy to assist those in need.”

In his head, he added, …especially if they feed me afterward.

That night, the villagers gathered around a fire, eager to hear of his travels. The escorts spoke of their mission carefully, avoiding details about the Orcs, while the Chief’s son only half-listened — until one villager asked if he had advice for defending against the ogres.

He paused, then said, “Stay alert, trust each other… and if something big and scary comes at you, just glare at it until it goes away.”

The villagers actually nodded at this.

By the next morning, they were back on the trail, winding deeper into the marsh. The calls of unseen creatures echoed from every direction. At one point, a massive shape glided under the water beside the causeway.

One escort tensed, hand on his spear. “Waka-sama—”

Too tired to care, the Chief’s son just waved lazily at the water and kept walking. The shadow drifted away.

“Another victory for Waka-sama,” one escort muttered.

“Completely intentional,” the Chief’s son replied without turning around.

By the fourth day since leaving the stilt village, the marsh began to thin. Waterlogged paths gave way to firmer earth, and the mist lifted into open sky.

“Waka-sama, we’re approaching the Orc borderlands,” one escort said.

The Chief’s son perked up. “Finally. I was starting to think this whole ‘mission’ was just an excuse to get me out of the village so you all could have meetings without me.”

“We do have meetings without you, Waka-sama,” another replied.

“…That’s hurtful,” he muttered.

Not long after, they came across a larger settlement with reed-and-clay walls. Orc banners fluttered near the entrance — a village with trade ties to the Orcs.

The Chief’s son straightened. “Alright, time for diplomacy.”

One escort leaned closer. “Remember, Waka-sama… they may not be as easily swayed as the others.”

“Relax,” he said, slipping into his deep, formal voice. “I was born to talk people into things.”

They were brought before the elder — a tall lizardman with sharp eyes.

“I know why you’re here,” the elder said. “And my answer is no.”

The Chief’s son blinked. “…You didn’t even let me finish my greeting.”

“I don’t need to hear it. The Orcs are strong. The ogres stronger. Aligning with them is safer.”

“Safer now, yes,” the Chief’s son countered, “but once they’ve taken what they want, where will you stand? At their table… or under it?”

The elder’s eyes narrowed. “You talk like you’ve fought them yourself.”

“Fought? No. But I know people who have. And they’re not the type to share — not land, not resources, not victories.”

The silence that followed was less hostile than before. One escort stepped forward.
“Waka-sama has traveled far for this mission. We ask that you at least consider the Chief’s offer.”

The elder hesitated, then said, “I will… think on it.”

Later that evening, the Chief’s son gnawed on dried meat. “That wasn’t so bad. See? I can do diplomacy.”

One escort raised a brow. “You almost told him you’ve never fought anyone in your life.”

“I did tell him that,” he smirked. “Honesty builds trust.”

The others exchanged doubtful glances but let it go.

The next morning, they were sent off with provisions — and the elder’s promise to discuss the matter with his council. It wasn’t a yes… but it wasn’t a no, either.

As they walked, the Chief’s son muttered, “One down… probably too many to go.”

“Waka-sama,” one escort reminded him, “the Orcs are only a day’s march from here.”

“Perfect,” he said, grinning. “We can finish this, get home, and I can sleep in a proper bed again.”

By late morning the next day, the path widened into a dirt road worn by Orc patrols. The Chief’s son sniffed the air.
“Yup… definitely Orc territory. Smells like boar and wet leather.”

“Please don’t say that to their faces,” one escort warned.

“Why? I meant it as a compliment.”

Two Orc sentries spotted them before the first outpost. Towering and broad-shouldered, they approached with hands on their cleavers.

“Halt. State your business.”

The Chief’s son stepped forward, posture perfect. “I come on behalf of the Lizardmen Chief, to discuss matters that will benefit both our people.”

The guards exchanged a glance, then gestured. “Follow us.”

Inside the longhouse, Orc elders sat in a circle around a fire. Their leader, a grey-tusked veteran, eyed him with open skepticism.
“You come here to talk us out of aiding the ogres.”

“That’s correct,” the Chief’s son said evenly. “Because helping them only puts you under their boot later.”

The elder laughed. “The ogres are powerful. They’ve offered us a place in their future.”

“And in return, you’ll bleed first so they can win second,” the Chief’s son shot back.

The room went quiet. Even his escorts looked surprised he’d managed two solid points in a row.

One younger elder leaned forward. “And what do the Lizardmen offer instead?”

The Chief’s son hesitated only a moment. “A future where you fight with equals, not as their shield. A future where the victories belong to all — not just one greedy race.”

Even he was startled at how sincere it sounded.

The grey-tusked elder studied him. “You speak boldly for someone so young.”

“I get that a lot,” he said, trying not to grin.

The elder chuckled. “We will… consider your words. But if we turn from the ogres, they will see us as enemies.”

“Good,” the Chief’s son replied before thinking. “Then you’ll be on the right side.”

A few of the elders smirked at that.

When they stepped outside again, one escort whispered, “That was… not terrible, Waka-sama.”

“I know,” he said smugly. “I almost convinced myself.”

The path home felt shorter — though he insisted it was because they were “walking downhill.”

At a fishing hamlet, villagers welcomed them with fresh-caught river fish. Word of his “diplomatic mission” had already spread. Children whispered about the “brave young warrior who faced the Orcs without fear.”

The Chief’s son leaned into it. “Yes, yes… it was tense, but I kept my cool. I have that effect on people. And dangerous animals.”

Over dinner, a fisherman asked how he’d convinced the Orcs to listen.

Without missing a beat, he said, “Eye contact. Never break it. Orcs respect that.”

One escort muttered, “Or maybe they were just surprised you didn’t trip over your own tail.”

The Chief’s son ignored him. “And of course, my natural charisma helped.”

At the next village — one that had leaned toward the Orcs — exaggerated stories of his “negotiations” had already arrived ahead of them. Suddenly, the villagers seemed far more open to siding with the Lizardmen.

“Your… reputation is doing most of the work for us,” one escort whispered.

He grinned. “See? Being lazy has its perks.”

By the time they crossed back into Lizardmen territory, his spirits were high. They weren’t returning empty-handed. They’d expanded their support — and his legend was growing with every step.

When their home village finally came into view, the Chief’s son straightened his back and puffed out his chest. “Alright. Time to look heroic.”

One escort sighed. “We haven’t even stepped through the gates and you’re already in ceremonial mode.”

“Of course,” he said. “This is the most important part — looking like I’ve been busy.”

As they crossed the threshold, a few villagers clapped and cheered. The Chief’s son responded with a regal nod, as though singlehandedly saving the forest was just another Tuesday.

“Waka-sama returns!” someone called.

“Yes, yes,” he said with a wave. “Hold your applause… actually, don’t.”

The central platform of the Lizardmen village bustled as they strode in. At its heart stood the Chief, flanked by elders, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

The Chief’s son stepped forward with flawless posture — chest out, chin high. His voice carried across the crowd. “Father. The mission you entrusted to me… was a success.”

One escort’s mouth twitched, but he wisely kept silent.

“The Orcs have agreed to reconsider their alliance with the ogres,” the Chief’s son went on. “And several villages along the way have pledged their support to our cause.”

The elders exchanged murmurs of approval. The Chief inclined his head. “You have done well.”

The Chief’s son bowed slightly. “I merely did what was necessary for the good of our people.”
Inwardly, he added, …and I managed it with minimal walking.

As the crowd dispersed, he overheard whispers about his “incredible negotiation skills” and “fearless stance before the Orc elders.”

One escort muttered just loud enough for him to hear, “Fearless… right. If they only knew.”

The Chief’s son smirked. “Perception is half the battle.”

Elsewhere — The Ogre Village

In a shadowed hall, the Ogre Princess stood before a semicircle of grim-faced elders.

Her voice was steady, urgent. “We cannot let my father drag us into this pointless war. It will bleed our people for nothing.”

One elder leaned forward. “Princess, the Chief has already chosen. The ogres are united under him. To oppose him now is to divide us.”

“Then let us divide!” she snapped, tusks bared. “Better division than ruin.”

Another elder shook his head. “It is hopeless. Even those who doubted him now follow. His alliance with the Orcs… his power grows too strong. It is too late.”

Her hands curled into fists. “Too late? So we just watch the forest burn?”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

With no answer given, she turned sharply and strode for the door.

Her retainer hurried after her. “Princess—”

“I’m leaving,” she cut him off. “If I must live on the outskirts to escape his shadow, so be it.”

“Such a choice is rash. And dangerous.”

“I don’t care.” She didn’t slow her pace. “If you follow me, fine. If not, I’ll go alone.”

Outside, her remaining retainers were already waiting. “We’re with you,” one said firmly.

The Princess paused, only for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Then let’s go. The further from here, the better.”

Together, they slipped into the night, leaving behind the heavy air of inevitability for the wild uncertainty of the forest.