[START VOLUME TWO] A Prince's Request [START VOLUME TWO]

Thunder rolled across the plains.

The sky was almost pitch black with storm clouds stretching across the horizon. Against the flash of lightning, the lone rider could see his destination laid out before him.

He rode forth in the downpouring rain towards a large collection of circular tents lined with animal skins. Some were adorned with tusks and metal spikes curved in similar fashion, the yurts firmly anchored into their supports. While this camp had no walls, the rider saw half a dozen horse riders galloping towards him.

They quickly surrounded him, each of the other riders pulling out a bow and nocking an arrow to ready their attack.

The lone rider held out his hand to reveal a ring with a crimson garnet. “I am Prince Demerius,” he called out over the winds. “I seek an audience with Chieftain Togoldor.”

All of the horse archers kept their drawstrings pulled and arrows trained on the Prince. The one at the front approached, stopping by the Prince’s side.

A flash of lightning let Demerius see the other rider’s face. Two large tusks jut out from the rider’s lower jaw, his green head covered on top with a hat made from the fur and hide of some animal Demerius couldn’t identify.

Demerius hid his disgust. Orcs.

The orcish rider who’d approached him took his arrow out of his bow and told the others to do the same. “You’re late,” he growled. “You try the Chief’s patience by coming at this late hour.”

“And you try it by keeping me here,” said Demerius. “Take me to him.”

----

Demerius rode into the collection of tents, flanked on each side by the orcish horsemen.

Few were outside of their yurts in this weather, and those who were mostly were rushing to get inside of one. Makeshift torches with fire elemental crystals tied to their tops illuminated the way down the main avenues through the camp.

At the center of this makeshift settlement to which all avenues led was the largest yurt of all. Two of the horsemen leapt off their horses, each clutching a handaxe before taking a position on each side of the yurt’s entrance.

Most of the yurt’s interior was darkened. Demerius could make out a large stove in the middle being tended to by a young boy. There was a kitchen sort of area on one side, and several women were resting in beds along the walls.

On the opposite side of the entrance was a makeshift throne of bone and covered with furs, where an orcish man sat surrounded by four of the same fire elemental torches from outside. His head was leaning impatiently upon his fist, long black locks running down each side of his bored expression. The green skin of his chest was slightly paler than the rest of him; Demerius assumed he normally wore armor outside. At least he had the decency to wear pants in the form of furred leggings.

Togoldor’s yellow eyes locked onto Demerius.

Demerius stood up a little straighter once he had Togoldor’s attention. The rain had soaked him to the bone but he took a moment to arrange his hair to be more presentable.

“Togoldor.” Demerius nodded politely. No bowing to a ruler who did not swear fealty as he did. “We meet again.”

The Chieftain’s bushy eyebrows twitched. He finally sat up on his throne before leaning in. Even in the darkness Demerius could see a pair of bracers, one on each of Togoldor’s arms. A perfect diamond was embedded on the outer part of each.

Demerius’s ring vibrated at the sight of it. It took a measure of control to keep it under control.

“Demerius.” Togoldor leaned in, each hand clutching an arm of his throne. “Are you here to finally fight?”

The prince shook his head. “Not today. But I wouldn’t ask for a meeting to waste your time. I found another one.”

Togoldor chuckled. “And you couldn’t handle it yourself.”

“I had him,” Demerius whined. “And then he pulls a last second dragon out of nowhere. He is far more resourceful for a champion than you’d think. He’d be a heck of a fight for you.”

That got Togoldor to laugh. “I’d crush him.”

Now it was Demerius’s turn to smile. “Prove it. Take him off the field. None of my men will interfere. In exchange for this treat, I want your horde to leave my lands and to return to the steppes.”

Damn that peasant for forcing his hand like this. But if things went as the prince hoped, then he could kill two birds with one stone. Demerius knew that if he truly had to, he had ways to fight this horde.

His eyes lingered on the bracers with diamonds on the Chieftain’s arms. That was the real threat he faced. The prince hadn’t figured out how to get around those yet. But that was a problem for another day. His humiliation at the hands of those peasants and the raids Togoldor’s horde conducted on his lands were a bigger threat.

Togoldor turned to his right. Demerius only then realized the two men were not alone. There was a female orc standing off to the side. She looked to be a little shorter than Togoldor, wearing leather garments to cover her chest and bottom. Clearly a warrior of some renown within the tribe, he told himself.

The two orcs had a quick discussion amongst themselves, Togoldor being more animated while the woman remained still.

Finally, Togoldor stood from his throne. He approached the Prince with a confident swagger, stopping only once the two were face to face. The men were about the same height as one another.

He held out his hand to the Prince. “Will you swear an oath to what you’ve said, with my sister as witness?”

The Prince stared at the green hand. The other nobles might call for his head if they ever found out he was doing this. And he didn’t want to bankrupt a small nation coming up with the gold to pay them off.

But he couldn’t let that peasant think he could get away with disobeying his betters. He couldn’t let that man from New York think he had a shot of being the last man standing.

Demerius took the hand and shook it.

“Now. Tell me about this peasant.”