NOVEL NEXT Chapter 101: Dor’gha nuu sh’tar!
Elizia abandoned us halfway, handing Philomeu a needle wrapped in cloth, saying that it contained the extremely potent Orc-knockout drug. I felt a bit resentful about not receiving it and having to rely on this crazy revolutionary, but hey, there are days of struggle and days of glory, it's just that this whole week has been nothing but struggles.
Walking in a dress is not exactly the best thing in the world, since it's tight and leaves me slightly breathless, but Victorian manages to clear a path for us to continue without any problem as we make our way to the top of that slum. I must say, it's a very dark and dirty place, so my memories from my past life didn't betray me.
Furthermore, wherever we go, eyes always fall on our backs. I can feel the violent desire of the people in the windows from afar, waiting for the opportunity to steal a necklace from one of the noble young ladies or simply assault them...
Not everyone is like that, certainly, but those on Ragna's side definitely want to kill us. I'd fare fine in a fistfight, and I don't doubt Philomeu will make them eat their own tongues in fear.
Slowly, we reach the top, having to be careful where we walk because the heels are about to trip me backward and send me sliding down the hill.
The alleys narrow, leading us directly to a square-structured building, something that looks like a white spot on a black board because of how much it stands out among the simpler houses, stacked one on top of the other, that cover the surroundings.
There's a light at the entrance, with two guards: a huge Orc and a human who looks like he eats glass for breakfast. One of them raises a hand, blocking Victorian.
"Weapons don't pass here, the bodyguard stays."
Victorian opens his coat, ready to argue the old-fashioned way, but Philomeu steps forward, preventing anything else from happening.
"The party is ours, he comes with us."
"He doesn't enter" the guard replies, without even blinking.
It's impressive how Philomeu can almost assassinate someone just with a look, even with a silk bow in her hair. Is it a natural ability to induce fear using her eyes as a weapon? I wish I had that skill...
"Victorian" I say quietly, trying to maintain my balance in the heels. "Stay here for now. If things go bad, you'll hear the screams."
He shows a hesitant face, filled with distrust regarding that criminal den, but is forced to accept in the end. The giant moves away from us, leaving only the three young ladies ready to enter that door and meet the commander of this city.
The three of us walk together, ready for the worst to happen. Strangely, we haven't reached the headquarters yet, that entrance opens into a wide corridor full of hanging cloths and bloodstains on the walls.
Philomeu walks in front of me, somehow maintaining a more noble posture than I do, as if she were at a party with the Duke and not in a dive reeking of blood.
Then, a door on the right bursts open. My most obvious reaction was to punch the idiot who did that in the face, but due to the environment, I contained the urge and just looked at the bastard, who was a thirty-year-old bald guy who looked like he'd had much better days in his youth.
"Ysabelle, you've arrived."
Our negotiator nods, not overly concerned by the approach, probably accustomed to this type of treatment.
"I believe it is the best time, sir. I was also missing the Orc."
"Good thing you came early, Ragna likes people like that."
I swallow hard. "Liking" probably doesn't mean anything good coming from her, considering what happened to Leonhardt. The established bald guy knocks on the metal door a few times, clearing the way for us to enter.
Ysabelle takes the lead, acting as our capable negotiator and colleague. We finally stop in the main hall, or what appears to be Ragna's command center, where the Orc herself is located.
She is bigger than I remembered, bigger than any Orc I have ever seen. Her body is a wall, her skin marked with scars that stand out under a dim ceiling lamp, not to mention the smile, which seems to stare at us as if seeing us similarly to walking prey.
"Ysabelle" Ragna murmurs, dragging the name as if deciding whether or not to finish chewing the piece of meat in her mouth, "you finally decided to bring some... clients."
"Daughters of a foreign Count" she introduces us with full pomp. "They came to discuss a certain delicate matter."
Philomeu doesn't think twice, adjusting her dress and giving a theatrical curtsey, the kind she learned from the nuns and hated every second of.
"We are Daria and Dalia Montclar."
Damn, the accent was so perfect I almost believed it. I imitate the curtsey, even though my knee threatens to pop the wrong way.
Ragna observes us with that disinterested look, resembling a lion about to devour the heads of a zebra. Jeez, what does this Orc have up her ass to be so threatening?
"And what are two such... fragile little girls doing in my headquarters?"
She approaches to the point where I can feel her body, and my goodness, I've never seen such a ripped abdomen. She completely puts me to shame regarding sha, I feel smaller and like a real weakling.
Philomeu responds with her usual firmness:
"A noble rival of our family is delaying important business. We wish to hire someone more… efficient to resolve the problem."
"That's all?" She spins one of the thick rings on her finger. "I was expecting something more fun. You brought such an easy task that I'm starting to think you underestimate me."
I feel Philomeu tense up beside me, so, anticipating, and following the plan, I take a step forward, smiling timidly. Due to my recent experience as a twink, let's say I learned a little bit how to show the delicate side of a person, making it easy to adopt the appearance of the more sensitive "younger sister," unlike this idiot beside me, who clearly looks like a cold-blooded bastard.
"We can negotiate additional terms."
Ragna turns her face to me and a spark snaps in the air.
"Ah... you."
Oh, no, I was definitely either caught in my disguise or I messed up. She's so close that my alpha male smell is probably leaking out, only for Ragna to touch a piece of my hair extensions with one finger, caressing it strangely.
"Perhaps I'll ask for something different. How about dinner? At a decent restaurant, just me... and one of you."
She slides her gaze over me, assessing me as if I were a piece of luxury meat in a butcher's freezer. I take another step forward before Philomeu rips the Orc's head off. This will be the only opportunity I have to capture Ragna's attention for some time, so I must take advantage of it, treating it the same way I did with Ophelia.
"Of course, why not?"
Ragna laughs and takes my hand. She turns my palm upwards, the rough texture of her finger touching my skin, and gives a slow kiss to my fingers.
"Mm... delicate skin."
Okay, things are starting to get weird. She raises her eyes to me.
"Why don't you sit near me while we talk? I think it would be great to get to know you better, miss."
I didn't expect you to be bisexual, but that's fine. I'm already too impressed for anything to scare me at this point.
"With great pleasure."
I sit next to her, or rather, I try to. The dress is so tight that I look like a roasted chicken balancing on a spit, but Ragna doesn't seem to mind. On the contrary: she finishes leaning back on the sofa with an extremely satisfied smile, as if she had just won an award.
Ysabelle, realizing that things are going too well in the wrong direction, tries to pull the conversation back to the professional track:
"Anyway, Ragna, I believe we could discuss the details of the service..."
"Yes, yes, the boring part" The Orc waves her hand, not caring much about the details. "Speak. I want to know exactly what you want."
Philomeu takes one of the seats in the room, staring at me to say that she will kill the She-Hulk at any moment, however, she still somehow manages to maintain the etiquette of a noble lady despite having a latent murderous desire.
"The noble in question has been delaying crucial negotiations. We need him to disappear from the picture, preferably without a scandal and through an ambush, suggesting he was killed by regional bandits."
"Oh, so you want something discreet. That actually surprises me, but it's not like your request is difficult to fulfill."
She turns her head slightly, resting her elbow on the arm of the sofa, and then casts a lazy look in Ysabelle's direction.
"And the payment?"
"The value previously discussed. Plus a family jewel."
Ragna makes a face of disinterest.
"Hmph. Sounds like lukewarm work to me. No war, no strong warrior, no heads rolling in the process?"
Philomeu frowns, already greatly disliking the direction of this discussion.
"It was meant to be something clean."
"What a shame." Ragna sighs. "I thought the young ladies had better taste for fun."
She pulls a strand of my hair between her fingers.
"But I suppose dinner makes up for it."
Before I can answer (honestly, I don't even know how I would answer that), the Orc snaps her fingers.
"But... before we officially accept, I need to resolve a pending matter."
She stood up, heavy, letting her steps reverberate on the old wooden floor, creaking as if the board would break at any second under her weight.
From the dark, she pulled a chain hanging from the ceiling, causing a series of metallic clangs and opening a metal panel at the back of the hall. What? I can't believe what I'm seeing!
It's Leonhardt, in the worst state I've ever seen him, tied in heavy chains, kneeling, and covered in dry blood and bruises. His eyes, even half-closed, held so much hatred they could pierce steel.
This is bad... no, this is terrible! I spin toward my psycho partner, who is frozen in time amid that sight, her eyes wide in a way I never expected to see in someone like her.
Shit, she's about to lose it!
Ragna doesn't even seem to understand the kind of tension in the air, commenting in a bored tone:
"My little souvenir from yesterday. He's still alive, which I consider a miracle, because he still hasn't agreed to obey me. If you wait a bit longer, I can quickly turn him into a toy and..."
"YOU FILTHY ORC!"
Philomeu's roar momentarily makes me jump out of my seat and duck my head completely, because she simply flies across the room with the needle drawn from inside the ribbons of her dress.
However, the unexpected comes from Ragna, whose expression didn't even change.
"Ah, of course."
In a movement I can barely see, she rotates her hip and brings her foot up, striking Philomeu directly in the nose with the precision of a pneumatic hammer. The impact echoes in the room, with the redhead flying backward and slamming against one of the wooden pillars, blood pouring heavily through her hair, thus restoring its original crimson tone instead of black.
She tries to get up, stumbling, but the pure hatred radiating from that rage at seeing her beloved chained is stronger than the pain.
"YOU—"
She draws the sword hidden in the internal belt of the dress.
"—WRETCH!"
Ragna doesn't move, she just looks at me and grabs me by the wrist. In a second, I'm pulled close, with my neck being pressed by an arm and the rest of my body serving as a shield.
Shit, shit!
Philomeu stops dead, while I feel the arm tighten on my collarbone, applying more force to the grip. I can't get out, this will suffocate me if it continues like this! My neck could be broken at any moment!
"One more step" Ragna says, "and I split this cutie in half. Don't make me lose my temper."
Philomeu trembles, her eyes burning with fury and a thread of blood dripping down her lips.
Darius, for all that is holy, use your brain once in your life and find a way to get out of this situation! There has to be something, you know better than anyone how to get out of a fucked-up situation!
And then, I don't know why, maybe desperation, maybe instinct, maybe something else, a memory flashes before my eyes: that of an Orc entering a tavern and staring at me with a crooked smile.
Dor'gha nuu sh'tar.
That's an Orc dueling word that they can't refuse, isn't it?
I stare at Ragna directly. Please, divinities above, protect me from the mess I'm about to make now...
"Dor'gha nuu sh'tar."
The mere phrase is enough for the Orc's expression to change instantly. The smile dissolves, giving way to nothing more than an expression of hatred, one dominated by an Ashura from another world and ready to rip out my spine for having spoken such a slanderous thing.
She stares at me as if I had just uttered a secret I shouldn't know.
Well, here goes nothing...
"...What did you say?" her voice drops two octaves, before rising with an explosion of rage, "YOU DARE CHALLENGE THE GREAT RAGNA?"
The entire room holds its breath. If this is what I have to do to postpone my death for a few more hours, fuck it.
"Yes! Dor'gha nuu sh'tar, Ragna!"