Guardian: Derek Walker 27
The people of Allen Village had poured their blood and sweat into the fight, and what they earned in return was a victory worth calling their own.
They had repelled an orc invasion fiercer than any in the village's history. Hundreds of orc corpses lay abandoned before the village walls, their rotting stench blanketing the vast settlement in a gruesome haze.
To the celebrating villagers, the foul odor of corpses was no real problem. If anything, it was a proud emblem of their triumph. What kept the Allen villagers from showing their faces had nothing to do with the smell.
"Looks like there's no other way."
Thomas, the village's only butcher and one of the vigilantes, spoke with a hardened expression. He fully grasped the weight of his own words.
His statement was essentially a declaration to betray one of their own. And that person was Rita, the village's most dazzling mascot.
"If we just close our eyes and let Rita make this one sacrifice, that white captain won't bother us anymore. Yeah, that's how it'll go."
"If that bastard whispers any bullshit to the baron, we're done for. We barely beat back the orcs—now you want us to fight the baron's army? That's insane."
Pallax held the power to decide Allen Village's fate. To be precise, Allen Village was a remote backwater too weak to withstand even a single word from the white captain. They were the clear underdogs, forced to survive by the ways of the weak.
"But will Rita even listen to us?"
"What if she doesn't? She's dead meat anyway."
"She might run off. With Drobin."
The real issue was Rita's will. As the villagers fretted and debated, Drobin reentered the village hall. His dark expression preceded a heavy sigh the moment he stepped inside.
"Lady Luna is furious. I left Rita and Bianca with her for now... but I'm sorry to disappoint you."
At Drobin's words, Jenkins—the son of the general store owner and Drobin's age peer—spoke up in his characteristically gruff voice.
"Tch! We wanna rage too. None of this would've happened if she hadn't pulled that stunt."
Drobin furrowed his brow at Jenkins's remark. Without Luna, Allen Village would have fallen to the orcs long ago.
Everyone here would have ended up as fodder for those green monsters, amiably packed together. Even a child could foresee that future.
"What kind of talk is that to our village's savior, Lady Luna? You guys are acting weird today! This isn't like you at all!"
"Hmph! Do you even get what mess we're in? If that white captain feeds the baron some twisted story, we're all goners! You think the capital will listen to us?"
"Even so, it's not Lady Luna's fault."
"If it's not her fault, then it's your fiancée's, right? Didn't Lady Luna say it herself? That your fiancée attacked the white squad trying to rape her. So doesn't that make it her responsibility?"
"W-what did you say!? Jenkins! You done talking!?"
Drobin, who had stayed calm through it all, clenched his fists in fury. Jenkins's words went beyond common sense. Listening to him, it was as if victim and perpetrator had swapped places.
"Hey, snap out of it. We're commoners. Under knights and nobles like that white captain, we bow low and grovel! Sure, stuck in this rural hole, we don't deal with highborn much, but you know that much!"
Jenkins raised his voice to match Drobin's.
"Yeah. If you trace it back, it's all Rita's fault. So she needs to take responsibility. Let's send her to grovel at the white captain's feet right now. With her looks, she'll definitely catch his eye."
"You bastard! You trying to fight me!?"
Drobin bristled at the insult to his fiancée right in front of him. Any man would snap at words like that.
"You're all crazy! Why the hell... are you acting possessed today?"
Something was off about the villagers' vibe. They didn't seem in their right minds. As far as Drobin knew, the people of Allen Village weren't such godless cowards.
Suddenly, Hergen snuck up behind Drobin and choked him.
"H-Hergen!?"
"Drobin. Jenkins is right for now. Take a break."
"Guhk!"
Drobin lost consciousness, his throat crushed. The other villagers eyed Hergen with surprise. He shrugged it off like it was nothing.
"It's all for the village. Put personal feelings aside."
Jenkins smirked—half sneer, half chill—and muttered softly.
"Not for me to say, but you're one creepy bastard."
Hergen ignored him. With exaggerated gestures, he turned and said,
"I'll head to the white squad first. Tell them we're handing over Rita, so let's settle this nicely. They'll get it."
"Mm. We'll hold Rita here. Oh, what about Drobin? He'll freak when he wakes up."
"Lock him in the warehouse. Until it's over. He'll come around and understand once he thinks straight. It's for the village—no choice."
Hergen left the hall as he spoke. As he exited the village, his eyes gleamed with an unnatural red glow, unlike his usual self.
He headed straight for the temporary tent where Pallax's white squad was camped.
Hergen sprinted to the temporary camp. Pallax's white squad was already packing to leave. Soldiers bundled gear while knights like Pallax prepped their equipment.
With heavy losses to the orcs, their numbers were down to half. Returning like this meant severe punishment.
"Hey. Halt there."
A guard at the tent entrance blocked Hergen. He flashed a sly grin and said,
"I'm here to see Captain Pallax. To apologize for earlier rudeness."
"Hmph. Follow me."
One soldier led him in. The smooth handling suggested Pallax had anticipated this.
Or more precisely, Pallax had orchestrated the whole situation. His combat skills were questionable, but he excelled at engineering favorable outcomes.
"You're here."
Pallax lounged in a small command post in the camp courtyard. Just as Hergen expected, he seemed to have predicted his arrival.
That smug smile made it feel like Pallax even knew what news he brought. Hergen spoke slowly.
"Lord Pallax. Allen Village has never plotted rebellion. The woman who attacked your squad has no ties to us."
He claimed innocence first. It wasn't wrong—Luna wasn't from Allen Village. Of course, Hergen omitted how she'd saved them from the orcs.
"Mere words can't erase your treason. Sir Rengen's severed shoulder is proof enough."
Pallax spoke in a voice dripping with arrogance. His tone was calm and soft, but it couldn't mask the vileness beneath. Hergen bowed low.
"It seems there was a misunderstanding. We sincerely apologize for that misfortune."
"Empty words are the hollowest apologies."
"It's not just words. We'll offer compensation to satisfy you, Lord Pallax."
Pallax rose, rubbing his hands with a gleaming grin at the words he'd waited for.
Hergen caught the shift in his mood. As expected, all this bastard wants is pussy. Good thing he's simple.
"Let's hear it. What compensation?"
"Rita... we'll give you Rita."
"Oh ho. That one with the fiancé?"
"We've subdued Drobin. You can have her fully, no interruptions."
Hergen, who had once loved her, lifted his gaze casually after offering her up.
Pallax glimpsed the greed in his eyes—mirroring his own. He suddenly liked this man.
"Excellent. You know exactly what I want. But that's not enough. I must have that bitch who cut off Sir Rengen's arm... moaning beneath me."
"Lady Luna!? But she's a monster who felled hundreds of orcs alone."
"Monsters have their own weaknesses."
Pallax pulled a small glass vial from his pocket. It was an elegantly crafted bottle.
"Witch's Tear. One drop puts even a raging ogre to sleep before five steps. Feed it to that Luna bitch."
Witch's Tear was Pallax's go-to for conquests. Reliable, but getting it into the target was tricky. He left that to Hergen.
"Understood."
Hergen nodded loyally, taking the vial.
"We'll offer Rita and Lady Luna. In return... could you grant one request?"
"A request? To take you to the capital?"
Hergen's chill at the spot-on guess was fleeting. From Pallax's view, it was obvious. This ambitious youth, so like himself, couldn't be content in this rural trap.
"Fine. Handle this right, and it's doable."
"Thank you."
Hergen bowed again. A venomous smile curled his lips, matching Pallax's.
The orc leader's name was Vargo. I followed the little shit to their village.
The Vargo tribe camped on the outskirts of the Bloomwood Forest. Twisting through the dense woods led to crudely built huts.
"Oh ho. Thought you cave-dwelling fucks, but this is decent. You build those shacks?"
"Yes. Not bad, right?"
Vargo puffed his chest proudly. Blood oozed from the lightsaber wound. Dumbass.
"Impressive for orcs. Your tribe all as smart as you?"
I side-eyed the dimwits trailing us. They didn't look it, but I asked anyway.
"Not all. But I've trained them well."
The huts used branches, leaves, and fired clay pots. Far from primitive orc nests—drainage ditches made them functional too.
About two dozen huts. The central one stored dried meat and supplies. One per family, it seemed. Plenty of orc kids and females around.
"Chwiik! Human smell... That one's human?"
"Chwiik! Mama! Human or kin!? Confusing! Chwiik!"
"Me too... confused."
The orcs gawked like I was a zoo animal. One kid even poked at me with a stick.
"Darkness..."
"W-wait! I'll handle it! Kurg! Inside!"
The village held well over a hundred. Raised right, they'd bolster the territory. Orcs bred fast—endless soldier factory.
Brains are a bit shit, but coax 'em good and they'll make loyal minions. Stupidity's a plus sometimes.