Misfortunes Never Come Singly (1)
A few hours later.
Dark elf merchant Haser met with Mugura, the orc chieftain in charge of the island.
"What's this about, Haser? You're a fine merchant, but a coward at heart. Heh heh heh!"
He mocked Haser with a sneer the moment he laid eyes on him.
Haser felt irritation surge, but he forced a smile and handed over the bribe he'd brought first.
"It's been a while since I last paid my respects. Oh, and this is a new product. I hope it suits your taste."
"Grrrum! Well, now!"
Mugura grinned widely as he accepted the bribe.
It was the highly addictive tobacco he favored.
"Stronger than last time?"
"Yes, strong enough to melt your brain."
"What? Hahaha! That can't be cheap. So what kind of deal brings such generous lubrication?"
Thanks to the bribe, Mugura found himself willing to listen despite his short patience.
"Chieftain Mugura, you must know about the rebellion back in our homeland."
"Sure, but as long as trade keeps flowing, we don't care. Hell, you've come today."
"Truth be told, there's a bit of a snag."
"Hm? What is it?"
"With Her Majesty's absence, control over trade has vanished. The new families vying for power are all fighting to take charge."
"Oh ho? And?"
"Another merchant caravan will arrive besides ours this time."
"Really?"
Two caravans at once was rare, so Mugura leaned forward, urging him on.
"Yes. A new family muscling in—House Red Sunset."
"Never heard of 'em."
"As expected. They're clueless upstarts making a mess. It's a huge obstacle for us... so I need help from an old friend."
"Kuhuhu! Now I get it."
Mugura leaned back in his chair with a sleazy grin.
He'd wondered what the sudden offer of five ships' worth of trade goods meant.
Now it was clear: team up to rob the new caravan blind.
"It eliminates our rival, and you get a massive haul of spoils."
"But if they find out we attacked, there'll be trouble later."
He said that, but Mugura's mind was already swayed.
He couldn't pass up swallowing five trade ships whole.
"No worries. If they vanish at sea, who'll know? They'll assume a storm sank them. It won't affect trade at all."
"You mean take them out at sea?"
"Yes, no evidence that way. We'll unload our cargo at the docks. In exchange, I'd like to take some orc warriors aboard."
"Bold plan."
Mugura swallowed the "dirty plan" part.
Typical dark elf, he thought.
Using their muscle to crush a rival caravan.
He felt deep contempt inside, but he couldn't deny the allure of the deal.
Ever the self-preserver, though, he backpedaled slyly.
"I won't object... but I know nothing about it."
Haser marveled at the chieftain's baseness this time.
"Of course. Just look the other way, Chieftain. The orcs can act on their own pride."
"Kuhuh... That much is easy."
"In return, I'd like to borrow Guard Captain Markanac too."
Haser wanted Markanac because he was highly competent.
For the diversion to follow, it helped if he wasn't guarding the fortress.
"Fine. That guy's strong—he'll drown a bunch of you dark elves. Hahaha!"
With that, the negotiation wrapped successfully.
Fooling a greedy sort like Mugura was child's play for this cunning dark elf.
He'd offloaded a huge quantity of liquor for free that day.
Even the lower warriors, strapped for cash, got drunk on dark elf spirits and staggered about.
And the next day.
Haser set sail with over 300 staggering orcs in tow.
Chieftain Mugura watched contentedly.
A fortune from five ships would soon be his.
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A lookout with a spyglass rushed to Owen.
"Heroicus! Right on schedule. Haser's five ships are heading to the rendezvous."
"Good."
Owen nodded.
Those poor orcs aboard were as good as dead.
They'd meet ten ships in the open ocean.
Puzzled why five became ten.
But before figuring it out, they'd get backstabbed by the dark elves who'd brought them.
A trap in the middle of the sea, no escape.
Owen had told Arwen, in charge of that op, to leave no orc alive.
She'd be thorough—today's fish would feast on orc flesh.
"Our turn now."
Owen commanded five ships.
They brimmed with elite troops, hidden behind an uninhabited isle, waiting for Haser's fleet to pass.
"Men."
Humans and dark elf officers on deck turned to him.
"All's gone to plan. The enemy main force is blinded by greed, marching to their doom. Few defenders left on the island—most drunk on booze and addictive tobacco, groaning. Failing to take this place would be a disgrace."
They roared in agreement.
"Yes, sir!"
"Right! Let's go!"
Eager for glory, they fidgeted with excitement.
Morale sky-high, Owen didn't hesitate.
"Launch!"
A few hours later, at Margel Island.
Orcs partied everywhere.
The rare influx of dark elf liquor had them in a frenzy.
Haser's free giveaway was generous—they drank like fiends.
Even watchtower lookouts joined in.
Margel had never been invaded.
Impregnable, and no one dared try.
Discipline was lax as could be.
They poured and chugged with comrades, lost in revelry.
Then one lookout spotted something.
"Huh? Dark elf ships?"
Far off, five sleek galleons glided swiftly over the waves.
"Yeah? Back already?"
"Fast. Thought tomorrow."
No one took it seriously—they were just lookouts.
Assumed it was the morning departure returning.
Sharp eyes might note subtle differences, but no such orc here.
They smoked and drank, watching leisurely.
No need to guide; dark elves would handle it.
Soon, orcs burst laughing.
"What the—! Hahaha!"
"Drunk already? Guhahaha!"
The ships docked crookedly, all askew.
They knew dark elves docked razor-straight— this looked off.
Orcs jeered like it was a show.
But that ended quick.
Armored humans poured from the ships—orc eyes bulged.
"Wh-what? Humans!"
"Sound the drums! What the hell!"
Massacre erupted at the docks.
Orcs lounging in winter sun were caught flat-footed.
Scrambling for armor and weapons, but blades rained down unstoppable.
"Gaaah!"
"Humans! Humans invading!"
Panicked orcs flailed.
Brave race or not, this surprise shattered them.
Only after over 30 dockside deaths did drums and horns wail.
Bwoooong!
Hearing the orc horn, landing commander Betshel guffawed.
"First time an orc horn sounds this pathetic!"
Far from majestic intimidation—like a deflating wheeze.
Orcs screamed desperately.
"Hold! Shut the gates!"
"Hurry!"
Even landed, walls and gates blocked the way.
If breached, it was over—orcs fought frantically.
Brave warriors bought time for the heavy gates to close.
Orc resistance was fierce.
But Owen, watching silently, drew his fine sword from his belt.
Flash.
The imperial blade gleamed blindingly in the sun.
Moments later, Owen commanded.
"Fire!"
Dark elves lit the cannon fuses.
Booom! Crash! Boom!
Gun-deck cannons roared in unison, smashing everything in range.
Rumble!
Amid the din, part of the wall collapsed.
A shell hit the half-closed gate dead-on.
Clang!
Iron gates buckled noisily.
The shot ricocheted inside, shredding orcs.
Blood soon poured from the gate's lower gap.
The area became a sea of red.
Owen had docked crookedly for cannon angles.
Straight in, no shot— so at an angle.
Orcs fought desperately, but outmatched by naval guns.
The wall fell swiftly.
A bold knight first scaled it, hurling down the orc banner—cheers erupted.
"Hooray!"
Owen asked Betshel.
"Elder, I'll go straight for their chief. Handle the island cleanup. I'll assign some dragon knights."
"Got it. We'll sweep 'em clean—no worries."
Betshel, blood boiling, led eastern troops in a rampage.
Owen crossed the gate amid the chaos.
As he moved, chamberlain Orkeus and 300 dark elves followed in train.
To them, escorting Heroicus was paramount.
"Protect the hero!"
At Orkeus's cry, dark elves cleaved foes ahead.
Owen pressed on, crossing the village inside.
Scattered enemies appeared, but no need for Grenville.
Dark elves handled them swiftly.
Soon, what looked like the enemy chief's quarters appeared.
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Of course, final defenders stood ready.
"Halt! None pass while Uruk guards here!"
A thunderous shout boomed ahead.
"Oh..."
Owen admired the mountain of an enemy captain.
A massive ogre named Uruk, over 3.5 meters tall.
Island's second guard captain.
He slammed his man-sized club down, growling.
"You puny runts! Come at me!"
A one-man army aura, but Owen had no intention of engaging.
"Orkeus."
Quiet call—the chamberlain bellowed.
"Hand cannons!"
Fifty hand-cannon troops stepped forward at his shout.
The cocky ogre startled.
"Hup! You cheats..."
Rat-tat-tat! Boom!
They fired in volley.
Meant for dragons—no ogre could withstand.
Blood sprayed, armor shards flew.
Smoke cleared; Uruk spat blood.
"What the..."
He stared at his riddled body in disbelief, then toppled.
Thud!
Guard captain down—orcs nearby collapsed morale-wise.
Owen stepped over the corpse, entered the quarters, kicked the door open.
Inside: a hall of orcish decorations.
There sat island chief Mugura.
Face pale, he shook his head.
He'd never dreamed Margel would be attacked.
Looking around wildly, he shrieked.
"Uruk! Uruk! Where are you? Drive these scum out!"
At Mugura's cry, Owen gestured back. A dark elf politely offered something on both hands.
Uruk's severed head.
Owen tossed it forward.
"You were looking desperately. Here he is."
The agonized ogre head rolled, stopping at Mugura's feet.
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