Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 35 - Advent of providence - Part One

The state of the survivors taking refuge in the guard station was worse than I had initially anticipated. Food and water supplies were running desperately low and the guardsmen had no independent means of securing more without venturing out into the city that was overrun with undead.

They initially had stockpiles of food and water in a cellar beneath the guard station. However, the fifty or so civilians combined with the thirty-ish guardsmen themselves had gradually depleted it over the course of two weeks. Not starving quite yet, it would otherwise only be a matter of time.

Borrowing Kestrel’s communication device was intended to be the first step to rectifying this problem.

The guardsmen themselves each possessed a basic combat Class, which meant I could invite them into a party but not much else. Unfortunately, my quest functions outside of the Labyrinth were restricted to my subjects only. I doubted any of the guardsmen would swear the required oaths and accept an invitation to vassalage without substantial pressure or assurances either. Which was a problem.

Watch Captain Morris was patiently waiting for a reply signal on the communication device while another guardsman waited alongside him with a pencil and clipboard ready to take down dictation.

Wanting to speed the process along, I issued a mandatory quest to the Regent requiring him to attempt contact through Kestrel’s communication device. Making sure to specifically list the device and not just Kestrel herself, I was hoping the Regent would take the hint. It was already somewhat strange that communication hadn’t been established almost immediately. Kestrel had led me to believe that there was a rotating team of operators on the other end that could ensure she could send messages twenty-four seven.

Settling down on the roof and taking care to distribute my weight as evenly as I could, I hugged Lash close as she made to do the same.

After about five minutes, Morris suddenly grew incredibly excited, “It’s one of the Lord Regent’s aides! We have contact with the capital!” He exclaimed, bringing a quiet yet enthusiastic cheer from the guardsmen still standing watch on the roof.

Lash had already begun to snore, so I did my best to angle and support her head as best I could in order to make it quieter. Zombies may not be able to scale the walls of the guard station but I didn’t doubt the Crypt Stalkers would take a crack at it if they could.

Morris used the communicator for close to two solid hours before he looked to be finished. Looking terrified, determined and awed in equal measure, Morris limped over with the clipboard of dictated notes clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Wetting his dry lips and clearing his throat, it became obvious that he was moments away from having a panic attack.

“Just sit,” I suggested helpfully.

The Watch Captain nodded nervously and awkwardly lowered himself into a sitting position, bowing his head several times as he did so.

“What did the Regent tell you?” I asked curiously.

“Th-that, hrm, that your safety is to be our top priority, your, uh, Lordship,” Morris bowed his head yet again.

“What else?” That first part hadn’t been all that unexpected considering how the Asrusians had come to rely on my Abilities and Titles.

Morris wet his lips again, “A rescue force is being mustered as we speak, but...but...” His hands trembled as he tried to control his emotions, “An invading army is stationed outside of the city and controls access to the gates...”

That was interesting, but not altogether unexpected. “What else?” I repeated.

Morris seemed surprised that I wasn’t more affected by the news of the occupying force outside of the walls. I probably would have been if I didn't already have something of an alternate plan in mind.

“The Lord Regent’s orders are to follow your commands without question as if they had been spoken by himself or the Prince,” Morris seemed somewhat faint as he spoke the words aloud, rereading the dictated notes over and over again as he did so.

“That’s good,” I reassured him, “The Regent just dramatically increased everyone's chances of survival.”

Morris didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Tell the Regent that I have a list of items I need to be both stored and maintained in Port Gidian, specifically in Klive’s dining room,” I took a few moments to think of what we would need, “Arrows, bows, bolts, crossbows, halberds, axes, armour, food, water, Ascendency Elixirs, low-level mana stones, one of those teleportation wands-”

Morris hastily began taking notes on a fresh piece of paper, doing his best to catch up when I showed no signs of stopping.

“-Ropes, basic clothing, blankets, medical supplies, someone keeping track of inventory levels and replacing them in real-time...and...hrm, that’s all I can really think of right now,” I took a few moments to try and think if there was anything else we might need but came up blank.

“I...I will inform the Lord Regent,” Morris confirmed, stiffly getting to his feet while still scribbling down the final items on the list.

Mentally reviewing the list again, I began composing the quest in such a way that it would function similarly to an arcade ticket system. Participants in the quest would earn points from their kills and in turn, could spend those points on rewards from the list. The problem with this method would be the number of points awarded, which was out of my control and calculated automatically, against the value of the items in question, which was also determined automatically.

Using the Undead Hunt voluntary quest to secure common things like food and water would probably be no problem. However, after learning that my clubs were each equivalent to four hundred Zombies each, I found the chances of being able to secure the wand of teleportation to be little more than a pipedream. All the same, I had to include it to account for the off chance of getting Lash to safety. As an additional measure, I issued a second optional quest for killing the undead in Mournbrent for bonus Exp. The quests were at odds with one another, so each individual would need to alternate their participation based on their own circumstances.

With the Mothers Moon approaching, I had something of a backup plan in mind as well. The Central District would contain the portal to the first floor of the Mournbrent Labyrinth. Presumably, the first floor would still have the remains of a Foothold that I could claim and fortify long enough for Lash to conceive. The more warm bodies I could bring along for the ride, the safer we would all be.

Of course, this would mean fighting through the more powerful undead in the Central District, but that was why I had no intentions of fighting fair. After gathering as many survivors as possible, and levelling and gearing them up, we would push for the Labyrinth. The fact that the more powerful undead had not broken down any gates suggested that they were not actually that powerful. Most likely they were just fifth tier monsters that overwhelmed the defenders and caused enough panic to prevent organised resistance. Or at least those were my assumptions.

Before going to sleep for the night, I recruited Morris and promoted him to an Underlord before ordering him to recruit the other survivors. Joining wasn’t mandatory, but I made a point of emphasising that it would dramatically increase not just individual survival, but that of the group. Already off-balance from his own promotion to Underlord and the myriad of information that entitled him to, Morris could only manage to silently bow his head before taking a break to collect himself before addressing his guardsmen.

Waking up early, I groaned as I caught the rays of the rising sun straight to the face. At some point during the night, Lash had buried her face in my chest and managed to avoid being so rudely awakened as I had been.

It quickly became apparent that more Zombies had crowded around the guard station during the night. The chorus of wet growls and guttural moans of the undead was impossible to block out once I became aware of them, so I carefully sat myself up to see what was going on.

The first thing I noticed was the absence of the makeshift crane, and the second was the veritable horde of undead that appeared to be surrounding the guard station. Hundreds of Zombies had gathered against the walls and were slapping their arms and broken hands against the unrelenting stone, accomplishing nothing besides further damaging themselves.

The ten guardsmen on duty stood at least five feet back from the low walls and seemed to be avoiding looking over the walls. Given what was below them, I could understand the motivation in not wanting to look. All the same, time was wasting and I had places I would very much rather be.

Issuing the quests gave the guardsmen something of a shock. Again, this was perfectly understandable due to how large the list of potential rewards and obligatory description on what precisely constitutes participation in the quest.

Removing the small parcels of food from the makeshift sashes on my chest, I set them aside and waited to see what the guardsmen would do.

Their reactions were mixed, to say the least.

One guardsman rushed downstairs, most likely to inform Morris. Three others huddled together and began whispering heatedly with one another. One particularly nervous looking guardsman loaded his crossbow and aimed over the side while the remaining guardsmen watched with expressions of doubt and derision.

*Tunk*

The guardsman fired his crossbow and a couple of moments later very nearly jumped in fright. Judging by how he was staring upwards at nothing, it was likely that he had managed to earn redemption points for the quest. “It worked,” the guardsman croaked, “It worked! I got points just like it said!” Without waiting for comments or questions from his fellows, the guardsman hurriedly loaded his crossbow and took another shot. He repeated this four more times, growing more excited with each shot fired.

This was apparently enough to anger one of the guardsmen who also had a crossbow, “Nollan! Stop wasting our ammunition! We barely have any left as it is!”

The first guardsman, apparently named Nollan, fired his next shot as if he hadn’t heard.

“Nollan!” The guardsman hissed angrily, “I told you-”

“Bolts,” Nollan exclaimed excitedly, “Confirm!”

*Pop Clatter*

A bundle of crossbow bolts materialised next to Nollan and landed on the roof, corded bindings preventing what looked to be twenty crossbow bolts from scattering from the minor fall.

All eyes turned to the pile of bolts.

Positively shaking with excitement and tears streaming down his face, Nollan knelt down beside the bundle of bolts and worked at untying the cord.

All at once the other guardsmen began scrambling and shoving past one another in order to take a closer look.

Less than a minute later, all guardsmen on duty were actively taking shots at the horde of undead below. Some were noticeably less proficient than others, but that was fine for the time being.

Judging Nollan to be the most receptive, I waited until he was accepting a second supply of bolts before trying to get his attention. “Can you go fetch your Captain? I want to speak with him.”

Nollan nodded determinedly and hurriedly made his way down the stairs.

At first, the other guardsmen prioritised restocking their ammunition, but by the time Morris came limping up the stairs, there was a plethora of small food parcels and even a barrel of water.

Morris was just as stupefied as the other guardsmen had been. Not trusting his eyes, he made a point of touching just about everything before hurriedly limping over to see what I wanted.

“You need to organise your men,” I explained, “Have them form into party’s to get the most Exp from their kills. Also, and this is very important, make sure that enough Ascension Elixirs are earned for the civilians and make sure that they drink them. Also, you may want to take a look at your stats.”

Morris seemed a little perplexed by my final request but did as I asked. In the meantime, the mound of earned supplies continued to grow. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Morris’s eyes were transfixed on a single point, “How?...”

I moved Morris into my party and then pointed to one of the parcels of food, “Eat,” I encouraged him with a smile.

Blinking away his status, Morris limped over to the pile and stiffly retrieved a parcel of food. Nervously untying the cord he glanced back at me a number of times before placing a few pieces of what looked like smoked fish into his mouth. Chewing slowly and still sneaking glances, he didn’t seem to understand what was the point of the exercise. Finishing the small parcel of food, Morris began making his way back towards me but suddenly stopped as he gingerly put weight on his injured foot.

Eyes wide with surprise, Morris stared down at his foot in shock. Putting more weight on his foot, he nearly fell over as one of the guardsmen hurried past to deposit more supplies on the pile while Morris was balancing on just that foot. Far from upset, Morris quickly made his way over.

“It’s one of my Racial Abilities,” I explained, “Even though the synergy version is a little weaker it’s still enough to heal a minor injury like your foot in no time.”

“B-but synergies are only shared between monsters?” Morris stated uncertainty. However, before I could elaborate, his eyes grew wide as he seemed to put things together for himself. “S-status,” Morris stammered, his eyes immediately scrolling through his personal information and assumedly ending on the list of Synergies now afforded from myself and Lash. Eyes boggling, his face turned quite pale as he glanced away from his status and back to me for a few moments before staring once more at the Synergy list.

Giving Morris the time he needed in order to adjust, I looked out over the walls and was glad to see that the number of Zombies had begun to thin out quite noticeably.

“This is why you are so valuable...” Morris croaked in a hoarse whisper, “Why the Lord Regent demanded you be protected at all costs...” Not strictly correct, it was close enough to the truth that I was willing to let it slide for the time being. Better to be considered a unique, irreplaceable and incredibly valuable monster than just about any other alternative. “And the civilians?” He queried hesitantly, “The Synergies alone...”

“Once they consume an Ascendency Elixir, then they will benefit from Synergies as well,” I confirmed.

Morris staggered and nearly fell, “By the gods...You really are a miracle...”

I shrugged impartially. I had yet to see signs of any gods being real, except for maybe Orphiel the Fallen Angel, but that was a tenuous connection at best. All the more so since I had never heard him speak of any gods either.

Morris was so excited and flustered that he hurried away without any of his usual bowing. Ordering the guardsmen on duty to spend their points on ammunition and Ascendency Elixirs, Morris headed downstairs and began loudly waking up more guardsmen, panicking more than a few civilians in the process.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the guardsmen to begin accruing a decent stock of Ascendency Elixirs, making it clear that the labyrinth didn’t value them very highly at all. It wasn’t until I took a closer look at one of the Elixirs that I began to understand why. Smelling of cherry wine, a tiny rounded flake of manastone was suspended in what looked like red jelly. The jelly itself gave off a faint sense of mana, but the polished flake of manastone seemed dead.

Normally used to allow a regular human to gain access to the Labyrinths Status mechanics, the Elixir seemed downright primitive in comparison to what I was expecting. Somehow cherry jelly and a dead manastone allowed humans to backdoor into whatever magic governed the labyrinths. It was so downright absurd that I found myself beginning to agree with the simplicity of the approach. Who would think to protect against something so basic?

Allocating the civilians to my retinue, I continued keeping an eye on the surrounding streets.

More Zombies were slowly shambling towards the guard station and there did not seem to be any sign of that ending any time soon. I had initially hoped that the Zombies gathered around the station might have been the total number within range, but apparently, that was not the case.

This meant that getting the guardsmen and civilians to the cathedral was going to require transportation. Which meant I was going to have to go out into the city to get it. I had seen plenty of handcarts and food carts while Lash and I were travelling the roads the previous evening, but no waggons or carriages. There was a very real possibility that the carriages had been fast enough to leave the city in time to avoid being closed inside, but my impression of the slow-moving waggons still left me curious as to where they all might be.

With all thirty guardsmen firing bows and crossbows into the horde outside, the number of gathered Zombies began to fall dramatically. For the most part, the guardsmen seemed to be targeting the Zombies' heads which somewhat validated my earlier theory on their weak point. Then again, it may just be that comparative safety and elevation of their firing position made it more economical to prioritise aiming for a head rather than a body.

Waiting until the watch Captain returned, I waved to let him know I wanted to talk.

“Is there something I can assist you with your Lordship?” Morris asked, doing his best to restrain his excitement over their dramatic change in fortunes.

“We need to secure transport for the women and children, but I didn’t see any waggons on the roads,” I explained bluntly, “Do you know where I could find one?”

“Ah...” Morris seemed momentarily conflicted before giving the question some serious thought. “In the initial panic, I think most may have been driven to the outer gates of the city and would now be destroyed or otherwise surrounded by the undead. But...” He hesitated, clearly conflicted over whether he should speak further.

“This is the safest way of ensuring the civilians make it to the cathedral,” I reminded him, deliberately adding emotional weight to tip the scales of his internal conflict.

Watch Captain Morris nodded and seemed to come to a decision. “The tannery on the southwestern edge of the city. They have large waggons for accepting monster hides from the Guilds and making their own deliveries...Only...There are no horses...”

“Then I will pull it,” I stated confidently. I had plenty of experience drawing sleds by this point and doubted pulling a waggon would be particularly different.

Morris seemed less confident, or perhaps was apprehensive about his VIP being in harm's way. “They are large waggons your Lordship, intended to be drawn by large horses...”

“Worst case, Lash will help me,” I insisted stubbornly, “Do you have a map?”

The watch Captain grew somewhat pale and seemed to be actively engaged in another internal debate. “There is a map in the briefing room, but it would be best if you were escorted instead,” Morris countered diplomatically.

I considered his proposal for a few moments but ultimately rejected it, “It’s too dangerous to walk the streets in a small group. The Crypt Stalkers looked fast, and I can’t fight effectively if I have to keep worrying about friendlies getting in the way. I won’t be risking Lash either.”

Lash narrowed her eyes in annoyance but nodded to show she understood my unspoken reasoning behind the decision. The Plague Zombies were too much of an unknown at this point and it was not worth taking otherwise avoidable risks whenever they would be present.

Morris blanched but quickly rallied, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, “Then I will guide you there myself!” He insisted.

Carefully weighing the pros and cons of only having to look out for one person, I reluctantly agreed and nodded, “Alright, but you need to bring a heavy weapon for your own protection,” I countered.

Morris gulped hard and nodded before bowing his head and retrieving a halberd from the now somewhat organised pile of supplies. In addition to the halberd, the watch Captain replaced pieces of his damaged armour with suitable segments from the accrued supplies. Lastly, he filled a small pack with food and a waterskin before strapping it to his back.

“I’ll be back soon,” I promised Lash, taking a few moments to share a kiss before giving her a reassuring hug.

Lash nodded and put on a brave front, “Return soon,” she insisted, wringing her hands in frustration at being left behind.

Taking a firm hold on Lash’s old axe and a few deep breaths, I surveyed the wall beneath me and steeled my nerves. There were still plenty of Zombies left, and a growing pile of their dead besides. Aware that my hide was too tough for them to peirce was little comfort when contemplating deliberately dropping in amongst them, the primal monkey part of my brain practically screaming at me not to do it.

*Clang*

I threw down the axe about ten feet from the wall of the watch station and psyched myself up to make the jump.

*Whump Crunch*

Leaping over the short wall and increasing the prospective height of my fall was nerve-wracking at the moment, but rapidly falling towards the ground took precedence. Doing my best to roll on impact, I felt a Zombie’s body break beneath me as I barrelled over it.

Seeing no death notification, I awkwardly scrambled to my feet and was a little embarrassed to find that I had rolled hard to one side and was much further from where I had intended to end my landing. As a result, I had rolled over one of the already dead bodies scattered farther out from the watch station.

Stifling my embarrassment, I quickly leapt over to where the axe had landed and snatched it up.

The Zombies had all apparently taken notice of my descent and seemed keen for a fight.

Ironically, this made them easier targets for the guardsmen on the roof, allowing them to take pot shots into the gathering crowd without having to lean so far over the low wall.

Somewhat familiar with how to use an axe due to my training, I was still lacking in practical combat experience. Seeing the slow-moving Zombies as something of an opportunity, I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before stepping forward and taking my first swing.

*Shunk*

Exceeding my initial expectations, the head of the axe sheared straight through the Zombie’s neck and sent the body tumbling a few feet to the side. Incredibly used to my club sending enemies flying or pulping their limbs, it was a different experience entirely to feel the initial impact of the edge bite into flesh and then continue hewing through additional flesh and bone before erupting out the opposite side.

Limiting myself to horizontal strikes seemed to be the most effective means of compensating for the height difference. Even longhafting the axe still resulted in vertically angled cuts. But it made striking additional bones in the back and shoulders less frequent which helped to maintain momentum through multiple targets.

The more I swung the axe back and forth, and the more comfortable I became with the motion, the more I realised its similarities with the club. I was certain that there were better techniques to use with it as a weapon, but in terms of fighting waves of slow-moving Zombies, the axe was incredibly simple to use effectively.

On a personal quest I had issued to myself, I tried not to leave too many Zombies to the guardsmen. By my estimation, I was roughly three or four Evolution Elixirs from my first major evolution, and each of those Elixirs was valued at roughly seventy five Zombies a piece, for a total of three hundred Zombies.

While evolving would tank my available mana, it would also make my mana more potent, increasing the effect of Class Abilities that used it as a consumable resource. The Evolution would also hopefully provide stat increases that would increase Lash’s and my own chances of survival. It would also theoretically result in our child being that much more evolved as well, which was a nice side benefit.

Once all the Zombies in the immediate area were dealt with, Watch Captain Morris carefully climbed down the wall on a rope ladder before retrieving his recently claimed halberd. The halberd was roughly ten feet long and would afford him a decent distance from any potential enemies, so it was one of the better choices available. Furthermore, I already knew from experience that the halberd qualified as a Heavy weapon for the purposes of Racial Abilities, so the fact that Morris was a level twenty-three Swordsman was largely redundant.

With Morris leading the way, we began a brisk pace down the western road. Although doing his best to contribute, the first five encounters with Zombies required Morris to retreat after miscalculating a swing or thrust that resulted in his weapon becoming stuck. However, he didn’t complain and quickly seemed to get the hang of it.

The problem, I assumed, was very likely that the bonus damage was responsible. The bonus damage seemed just enough to make running the bladed head of the halberd through a Zombie’s chest and out its back an almost guaranteed outcome if he wasn’t careful. However, it did demonstrate that sufficient damage to the body also killed Zombies, so that was a plus.

As we left the larger road and began winding through the equivalent of two-laned streets without sidewalks, the Zombies became more difficult to deal with at a distance. For the most part, this was because the Zombies were coming at us from the narrow alleys and from the much closer buildings on either side of the road. However, they were also grouped up in much larger numbers. Rather than one or two at a time, instances of seven to fifteen quickly became the norm. This required Morris to actively manoeuvre through an ever-changing battlefield as he was retreating from one group or giving me space to attack another.

I could smell the tannery long before I saw it. The pungent aroma was actually something of a relief after being subjected to the everpresent rot and filth of the Zombies. At the very least it was different, and that counted for something.

The tannery itself looked like a series of connected warehouses and had a stone wall skirting the property and a large iron gate out front.

Two things very quickly became apparent. First, there was a horde of Zombies gathered outside of the gate. Second, there appeared to be survivors inside of the tannery grounds on the other side of the gate and were potentially attempting to thin out the Zombies' numbers.

Morris seemed to have noticed as well and seemed genuinely surprised.

However, as we drew closer to the tannery, I realised why the survivors had likely been able to hold out as long as they had. They were monsters. Or at least some of them were.

Gnolls had a very distinct way of speaking and it only became more pronounced when they became excited. So it was not difficult at all to pick out at least a dozen different Gnoll voices barking at one another from the other side of the gate.

The Gnolls’ voices weren’t the only evidence of monsters either. I could feel the Enslavement effects through my own Class Ability and had to resist the urge to break it. There were potentially other survivors taking shelter inside of the tannery, and I had no idea what the temperament of these Gnolls was like. For all I knew, they might immediately turn on any humans and rip them to pieces before we could negotiate a truce.

“The Gnolls in the tannery, do you know if they are variants?” I asked Morris while moving to intercept a pack of approaching undead.

Morris took a few moments to think and drove his halberd through the eye socket of a Zombie staggering out a nearby alley. “Legally, they shouldn’t be,” he hedged, “But there were rumours...”

“Rumours?” I pressed, scything my axe through one Zombie’s chest and obliterating the skull of a second.

“Variants do better work, and are generally more productive!” Morris grunted as he brought the blade of his halberd down on another Zombie's head, causing it to burst like an overripe melon.

“So it’s possible,” I grunted, kicking a Zombie in the chest and sending it catapulting backwards and through the wall of a nearby building.

“Possible? Yes!” Morris replied, stepping away from another group of Zombies to make room for me.

The wall around the tannery grounds was only ten feet tall, so I figured I would most likely be able to scale it with little difficulty. Similarly, I would be able to lift Morris over easy enough, or at least give him a boost if it came to it.

“We are going to push hard to the section of wall over there!” I indicated a section of the wall closer to the northern side away from the horde massed by the gate. “I’ll lift you over when we get there, so stay close. Just knock Zombies away if you have to, alright?!”

“Right!” Morris answered determinedly, goring one last Zombie with the spike of his halberd before falling into step behind me.

Technically in just about the safest position he could be, Morris shadowed me as I hacked and swatted away any Zombies that got in our way. As I assumed they would, a large section of the horde disengaged from the gate and began heading towards us, but they were too slow and got left behind.

Reaching the wall, I threw my axe over the side and grabbed Morris by the back of his breastplate, heaving him up and onto the wall in one admittedly rough shove. Tipping his halberd over the edge, I scrambled up onto the wall and unceremoniously rolled over and into the yard.

Morris fell next to me shortly afterwards, his fall arrested partway by landing on my back.

“Intruders!” A Gnoll barked in warning, “Intruders inside wall!”

The Gnoll’s warning was followed by an echoing series of barks and snarls that rather quickly turned to whimpers and nervous giggles.

“Intruder big!” Another Gnoll, “Too big! No fight!”

Getting to my feet and retrieving my axe, I could see a large pack of Gnolls gathered near the gate with long poles crudely affixed with blades to make makeshift spears. Similarly, the Gnolls were bedecked in crude but undoubtedly effective leather and hide armour.

“I am not here to fight you!” I called out, keeping my axe lowered and raising my free hand to try and demonstrate my peaceful intentions.

“Not dead walkers?!” one of the Gnolls near the back demanded, although it was unclear whether he was directing the question to one of his packmates or at me.

This mystery quickly resolved itself as the smallest Gnoll was elected by his fellows to ‘investigate’.

“Go! See!” one of the biggest snarls in an immediately recognisable female voice.

The smaller Gnoll whimpered and giggled nervously before cautiously and with great reluctance began approaching myself and Morris.

All the while the Zombies kept desperately reaching through the gate as Gnolls drove spears into the horde with vicious abandon.

The smaller Gnoll, still inches taller than Morris, sniffed the air nervously for a few moments while brandishing his spear as a warning. Carefully backing away to a safe distance, the Gnoll then turned and ran back his pack, “Not dead walker! Alive!” He confirmed.

A larger Gnoll, the largest in the group, stepped forward and made her way towards us with four others tagging along behind, all of them female. Stopping just five feet away, the Gnoll leader was forced to crane her neck upwards to look me in the eyes. She looked incredibly tired as if she hadn’t slept in days. “Why you here?” She barked irritably, “No food, you go!”

“I came here to rescue survivors, I needed a waggon but didn’t expect to find more survivors,” I explained slowly. Gnolls weren’t stupid, but speaking too quickly was prone to creating misunderstandings.

The Gnoll leader seemed confused, “You rescue?”

I nodded.

“Rescue us?” She added curiously.

“If I can,” I agreed.

Taken aback, the Gnoll leader looked to her entourage for a moment before renewing eye contact, “You rescue, we serve?” She asked, her tone making it obvious she was trying to clarify the terms of their rescue.

“If you want to, but our chances of survival are higher as a pack,” I clarified.

Surprised again, the leader looked to her entourage and they exchanged a series of intricate whines and giggles before the leader turned back to me again but deliberately looked down to avoid all eye contact and demonstrate submission. “Rikit pack serve,” she stated submissively.

“My name is Tim, and I accept your pack,” I declared in what I hoped was an authoritative tone of voice. “Now, tell me Rikit, are there any other survivors? And is the one who enslaves you still alive?” While I was quite aware that their Enslavement was active, it didn’t mean their master was on the property.

“Survivors, yes. Human cubs and matriarchs,” Rikit replied eagerly, “Master gone, still alive.” She growled in anger, eliciting an echoed sympathetic response from her entourage.

Deciding that was enough justification to seize control of their Enslavement, I began ‘gently’ directing my mana to do just that. Meeting some initial resistance, the pushback very quickly gave way to outright abandoning the fourteen Enslaved Gnolls. With the Gnolls automatically shifted into my party and retinue, I began cancelling their Enslavement condition en masse, having had more than enough practice on the fourth floor.

As their enslavement collars unbuckled and fell to the ground, the female Gnolls stared down at them in surprise.

“We serve?” Rikit asked in confusion.

“You serve me, but by choice,” I corrected, “No slaves.”

Excited whoops and heckling came from over by the gate as the male Gnolls realised they were no longer Enslaved. Many of them even stepped back from the gate and sat down in the dirt, looking positively exhausted.

“Rikit choose, Rikit serve,” Rikit vowed, her entourage repeating the same vow with each of their own respective names, Werut, Lish, Tresh and Rrer.

Exacting equivocal oaths for citizenship was relatively easy since Gric had devised simplified versions specifically for recruiting less sophisticated monsters.

Just as I had done with Morris, I promoted Rikit to Underlord and had her recruit the rest of her packmates. However, a cursory observation of her status revealed that she had the Taskmaster Class which meant Rikit qualified for the Master tier Leadership Classes.

Guiding Rikit through the process of accepting the Class promotion was simple enough despite her non literacy, just requiring that she parrot my words. Unsurprisingly, Rikit’s final Class was determined as Gnoll Chieftain. So after explaining what her Class Abilities did and how best to use them, I began explaining how the quest I had issued worked and how the Gnolls could all benefit from it.

While I was preoccupied, Morris had gone in search of the women and children Rikit had mentioned earlier.

Rikit was the first of the Gnolls to earn herself a halberd from the quest, but it didn’t stop her from earning more for the exhausted males. I dropped the Gnolls which were still in fighting condition out of my retinue for the time being and moved them into Rikit’s. This would help her power level a few easy levels.

Borrowing one of the halberds I did my part in helping thin out the horde as well. Waggon or no, we wouldn’t have a great time leaving until the Zombies were all dealt with anyway.

As Rikit and her small core of fighters finished earning enough halberds to arm their pack, they immediately switched to food and hungrily scarfed it down as quickly as they could earn it. If I weren’t gunning for my Evolution Elixirs I would have contributed to helping feed them too.

When Morris returned he had a surprisingly old woman supported on his arm. Just judging by her dark overly modest clothes, she looked like someone in mourning or a house servant.

The old woman's eyes grew incredibly wide as she drew closer and seemed to notice me for the first time.

“It’s okay, this is the Lord Regent’s emissary that I was telling you about,” Morris explained gently yet insistantly, clearly doing his best to try and convince her.

“You said Lord Timothy was tall!” The old woman scolded, demonstrating a surprising lack of fear, “You most certainly did not mention that he was a giant!”

The watch Captain shrunk back a little defensively, “I believe I made the comparison,” he insisted weakly.

The old woman stared Morris down with a prolonged glare before turning her attention to me. “My Lord-” She looked sharply back at Morris, “-He is a Lord? You weren’t fibbing just to make fun at the expense of an old woman?” She demanded crossly.

“Lord Tim’s title is recognised by the Lord Regent and highest military officers of the realm-” Morris replied but was abruptly cut off as the old woman raised her hand in front of his face to signal for silence.

“My Lord Timothy, it is with great relief that we welcome your belated efforts at rescue,” The old woman’s tone held far more emphasis on the latter than the former, earning a worried look from Morris. “I am Ms Ester, head matron of the Western Mournbrent Orphanage for Children, and I must insist that you see to raising the living conditions for those under my care or provide me with the resources to do so immediately!” She demanded sternly.

It was easy to see why the matriarchal Gnolls had respect for the woman, she was like a battleaxe personified.

“Ms Ester, improving the living conditions of yourself and the orphans under your charge is one of my highest priorities,” I tried to reassure her, but only earned a doubting scowl, “My plan is to bring survivors to the cathedral where they will be better cared for.”

“My charges are in desperate need of food and clean water,” Ms Ester snapped grumpily, changing the subject, “What do you intend to do about it?”

“Captain? Would you please?” I gestured to the gate.

Understanding what I intended Morris vigorously set his halberd to task alongside the few Gnolls still thinning the horde’s numbers.

Still looking thoroughly unimpressed, Ms Ester surprisingly demonstrated a great deal of patience while the watch Captain stabbed away at the Zombies.

“That should do it,” Morris groaned as he trotted back a short distance from the gate.

“Do what exactly, pray tell?...” Ms Ester demanded, her voice trailing off and eyes growing wide and Morris dropped his halberd and caught a small barrel that seemed to appear from nowhere.

“Why, it’s the fresh drinking water you were asking for, Ms Ester,” Morris replied with great satisfaction.

Ms Ester rallied quickly, “And the food?” She demanded haughtily, “Or do you expect the orphans to starve?”

Morris sighed and retrieved his halberd, giving me a world-weary look as he headed back to the gate.

“And I do hope you are not expecting someone of my advanced years to carry such a heavy load unassisted!” Ms Ester added, waggling her finger damningly at Morris’s back.

The Gnolls, whether out of nervousness or being entertained, began to giggle and snicker, which only served to draw Mis Esters attention to them instead.

“Oh, you think that is funny do you?” Ms Ester asked in a dangerously sweet tone, “Well perhaps it would be best to find work for you to do for you layabouts? Hrm? If you have enough energy to laugh at the hard work of others, then you have enough to work yourselves. Go on, get to it!” She demanded, glaring the pack of males down.

Giggling nervously, the Gnolls got to their feet and joined Morris at the gate, glancing back at Ms Ester anxiously as they gored Zombies through the gate bars.

Glancing back at the elderly matron, I wondered if she didn’t secretly possess the Taskmaster Class as well. In no mood to find out, I decided to go looking for one of the waggons Morris had told me about.

*****

Dante made the most of old matron Ester’s absence, and the other matrons' distraction to sneak out of their hiding place in the central offices and investigate what was going on outside. Unafraid of being caught by the dog-people monsters in the yard, as they would just shepherd him back to the others, Dante still kept a wary eye out for old Ester.

*Thump Thump, Thump, Bump*

Dante grew quite still as he felt more than heard sounds and heavy vibrations coming from the large shed next to the factory. Quietly creeping closer, Dante pulled over an empty crate and then climbed on top of it so he could peek through the adjoining window.

Besides the waggons and piles of smelly monster skin he had seen a dozen times before, Dante found the source of the noise and could do little more than stare as the giant wandered past the window.

“Ropes...” The giant muttered and shook his large bald head, “Forgot the bloody ropes...” Wearing little besides a pair of surprisingly well-made undershorts, the giant continued wandering around the shed and rifling through piles of the abandoned hides.

Heart racing and keenly aware he was far too curious for his own good, Dante carefully slipped through the window and then quickly dashed under one of the waggons for cover. With the shed door closed, and the only light coming from unshuttered windows near the roof, Dante needed to creep closer to get a better look at the giant. So he did.

Following the giant around the room as it continued searching the shed and grumbling to itself, Dante was almost disappointed by how ‘normal’ it seemed to be. Besides discoloured skin and perhaps one of the uglier adult faces he had ever seen, the giant almost looked human. Perhaps ugly wasn’t the right word, Dante mused thoughtfully as he got another brief look at the giant’s face. Blunt or rough seemed a better fit. There just wasn’t much that stood out about the giant’s face besides his thick hairless brow and slightly sunken eyes.

*Creeeek*

Dante nearly cried out in alarm, barely managing to stop himself in time as the giant effortlessly threw the shed doors open.

Now able to see into the yard, Dante could see the dog-people piling up supplies under old Ester’s icy stare. To his surprise, there were no signs of any moving undead near the gate, just a pile of their bodies.

Even though the sight of the undead sent a nervous flutter through his bladder, Dante grit his teeth and continued watching.

In addition to the giant, which now seemed much bigger when standing beside the incredibly tall dog-people, there was also a guardsman that was keeping a close eye on the street through the gate.

The giant stopped and spoke with the guardsman for a few moments and then headed for the pile of supplies. After rummaging around for a little less than a minute, the giant smiled as he pulled out a thick length of rope, “Finally!” The giant roared in triumph and began making his way back to the shed. Then, for seemingly no reason, the giant stopped.

Incredibly confident in his hiding skills, Dante still felt worried enough to double check his hiding place under the smaller waggon. Cloaked in shadows, Dante could barely make out his own hands, so he decided that he was just being paranoid.

Whatever had caused the giant to stop seemed to have passed and the giant was now tying the newly acquired rope onto the front of the largest waggon. Doubling the rope onto itself and tying knots to make it thicker, the giant seemed to be making a large rope handle. Sure enough, when the giant looked to be finished, he gave the waggon an experimental tug, inching it forwards across the floor of the shed.

From his vantage point, Dante saw that the two rear wheels seemed to be frozen in their axles and were quite rusty.

“Bloody hell...” The giant swore and released a deep sigh, “Now I need to find some damn oil or grease or something...”

Dante was surprised. Not just that the giant had apparently noticed the rear wheels seizing up, but that he was smart enough to know how to fix it. Dante knew without needing to look that the shed didn’t have any oil or grease for the axles. This was partly due to the fact that the dog-men had eaten all the rancid barrels of animal fat they could find over a week ago, and since moved onto the hides. Dante also knew because he had explored the shed many times before when he was bored.

However, Dante was aware of a vat in the factory that looked like it was full of something that might be oil. It smelled grosser than just about everything else, so he had never inspected it too closely.

Quite certain that the giant was otherwise occupied, Dante only made it two steps out of his hiding place before his instincts informed him that he had been spotted. Slowly turning his head, Dante reflexively shrank back and he realised that the giant was looking right at him.

“I was wondering when you would come out of hiding,” the giant chuckled in amusement before sighing, shaking his head and turning back to the jumbled piles of hides and empty barrels, “I don’t suppose you have seen some axle grease or something?” The giant asked with low expectations.

“Uh...” Dante’s mind had gone blank momentarily and was taking its time to begin working again, “Um...”

“It’s alright,” the giant sighed with mild frustration as yet another barrel came up empty, “You’re just a kid. I’m the adult here, I should be able to figure something out.”

“Just a kid?” Dante muttered irritably, his wounded pride quickly setting his mind on track again. “I know where some oil is!” He countered rudely, annoyed at being underestimated just because he was a little small for his age.

“Oh?” The giant sounded impressed, “Could you show me?” He picked up one of the barrels and slowly began making his way over.

Dante felt a fresh surge of fear but did his best to look brave, which was made much easier by the non-threatening movements of the giant. “It’s in one of the factory vats,” Dante declared proudly, finding his courage in boasting his achievement, “I found it while exploring.”

The giant looked impressed, “You are much braver than I would be in your position,” he praised, “The Zombies still freak me out and I’m pretty certain they can’t even hurt me.”

Dante’s eyes grew wide, “Really? Someone as big as you gets afraid?!”

The giant nodded, “Not just for myself either...There are people I am responsible for, that I need to protect...”

Dante didn’t know what to say. As one of the oldest kids and the biggest by a couple of inches, he thought that it meant he was meant to be the brave one and not be scared of anything. But the undead scared him, they scared him a lot. The thought of the other kids seeing his fear and assuming he was weak drove Dante into exploring the tannery alone. But if even the giant could be afraid, maybe it was okay for Dante to be afraid too?

Dante quietly led the giant through the factory to the foul-smelling vat of oily liquid.

Just as repulsed as Dante was, the giant used the barrel to collect some of the oil and began heading back to the waggon. “Thanks for the help kid, it would have taken me ages to find it,” the giant praised.

“Dante!” Dante shouted back irritably, “My name is Dante! Not kid!” He insisted a little angrily.

The giant stopped and gave him a bemused smile, “Much braver than I would be,” he chuckled, “Well, Dante, my name is Tim and I am grateful for your help.”

“Tim?” Dante muttered incredulously, that didn’t sound like a giant’s name at all.