"I ought to rip off both your legs, you pink slug!" Babeno roared, lunging at the boy and feinting a punch to his head. "How can we trust you won't bolt at the first opportunity now? Oh, you've gotten yourself into trouble, puppy!" she yelled, thrusting her imperious face close to his and baring her teeth menacingly.
Dorky obediently played his role as a frightened victim, cowering and blinking nervously. It was true he'd taken a few hits, and then he'd even been put in stocks. Now, the holes, tight around his neck but loose at his wrists, between two padlock-secured planks held him in an uncomfortable yet quite tolerable position. Nevertheless, he felt internally calm and well. He knew the Uurb clan-members and was aware that, apart from a slight inclination towards public spankings, they had no intention of torturing or devouring him. With the kobolds and the wild women of Krush, it wasn't so certain. The events of recent days had taught him to calmly accept what was happening and wait for an opportunity—both for an escape and passionate encounters with these incredible beings. It was a shame they had come up with that foolish rule about killing him after a hundred days. Actually, why would they do that? To hide their little fling from the males? That could be the reason, but he wasn't sure. He began to wonder which of the Orc-women would be easiest to persuade to explain things to him.
"Speak! What do you have to say for yourself?" The Clan Elder didn't let up.
"I made a mistake," he said, looking at the ground, then he raised his eyes and let himself be carried away by emotion, "but I learned a valuable lesson from it, and only now do I know that I want to stay with you."
He watched their reactions out of the corner of his eye. Chechi clapped her hands, and Marpala smiled under her breath, adjusting her glasses. Farme, Narma, and Darma sat leaning against a barrel, devouring large portions of roast from troughs, looking alternately at the boy and each other. Babeno sighed.
"You're a slacker, a drone, a fool, and the scrawniest pink-skin I've ever seen. But you have a warrior's heart," she moved closer to him and grabbed him by his shirt at the neck, continuing, "And that doesn't happen often. I heard you risked your neck for one of ours instead of running away yourself. Your sins are forgiven. Ninety-three days ahead of us. You'll spend an hour in the stocks to clear that empty head of yours, and then we'll figure out something for you to do. Meanwhile, my dear sisters, we need to talk. A major showdown with Garba and her crew is brewing. Knowing that twisted monstrosity, she's already rushing to silence us, with force, so that the news of her transgressions doesn't reach the Queen. Every drop of sweat we wring out in preparation for their arrival is a bucket of blood we won't lose in battle."
The gravity of the situation became palpable. The three who had been eating silently put down their troughs, dusted themselves off, and followed Babeno in single file out of the slave enclosure to deliberate over a solution in the Great Hall. The young man, having nothing better to do, fondly watched each buttock in turn, and his reliable penis began to tingle and stir again. He just wanted them to mostly show themselves to him naked for these ninety-three days, and for hostile Orc tribes or jealous males never to find their way to this camp. He also hoped that Babeno would manage to deter rivals or, as a last resort, defend the camp. Otherwise, his fate could violently worsen.
Gathered in a circle around the bonfire, the Strong and their companion Chechi listened attentively to Darma's story. The course of the skirmish with the kobolds was already known to them. Narma, famished and furious, had waited all day for the magic binding her prison walls to weaken, then finally broke free and headed straight to the camp to organize help with the search. That's how, shortly after, she and Farme stumbled upon the lost ones. They had more luck than damned sense, quoting the warrior's comment. Not everyone, however, knew the exact events at the Krush encampment. Darma did not hide her indignation. Reports of Garba's ambitions and her chosen one's desire to seize complete power and in the meantime do as they pleased, were met with deep consideration. Marpala, taking some control over the meeting, also inquired about the enemy clan's personnel, weaponry, and number of mounts. Having gathered all the information, she fell silent and quieted everyone with a gesture of both hands. Finally, she decreed: "You have no chance, sisters. They will come here and burn the camp to the ground. I feel they will attack even if we hide Darma and the boy." "But that would be dishonorable!" Chechi interjected. "Indeed, but in this case, the honorable thing to do is primarily to nip this rebellion in the bud. That is why I have decided that I will take Dorky and we will go directly to Horimar," the Counselor replied. "To the royal camp, straight before the Queen's face?" Babeno asked. "With permission," Marpala replied, although they all knew she needed no permission, for she was the royal Counselor and stood above the Clan Elders. "Permission granted, sister. We will miss your arm in battle." Babeno dismissed lightly and added, raising her tone increasingly: "Fly like the wind. Depart immediately. The rest of you, close the gates behind them. Gather all the javelins we have, light torches along the river line, and let the Workers prepare food that can be eaten without looking. Half of them must jump onto the walls with us, I don't give a damn that they can't fight. They'll have to. For every one of ours, I want to see three from Krush torn to shreds! Haaaargh!" Along with the roar emanating from her powerful chest, a warlike atmosphere swept through the gathering. Darma tightly bandaged her leg, Farme sharpened her axe with long strokes of her whetstone. Marpala was about to bid farewell to everyone when she suddenly stood before Babeno and blurted out: "Babeno, what about the Law of Divine Strength?" Emotions of curiosity, surprise, and hope crossed the faces of those gathered. Marpala, not losing momentum, continued: "Even such unfaithful savages, when they hear a challenge so great, will be impressed. They are proud and curious. They should allow you to duel. And then..." "The odds are on our side again!" Narma shouted above the Elder's ear, embracing her neck. "You're a powerhouse, after all!" "And then some! Why didn't I think of that?" Babeno laughed, and cheerful wrinkles played around her eyes. "Thank you, Counselor. This is a move that can help us. Either I'll break her completely, or I'll deal with her so thoroughly that she'll be of little use in the later fight. Either way, a duel is beneficial for us. We just need to..." "...Trust those scum," Chechi finished for her. The other Strong looked at her, and the enthusiasm in their eyes dimmed somewhat. "Yes. We will have to trust them. The duel will take place on the bridge in front of the main gate. Besides what I said, prepare some mushrooms – we'll need to speed up a bit." Babeno warmed up her neck with head rotations, cracked the bones in her hands, and began to put on her armor. The rest moved wordlessly to their assigned tasks.
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A few hours later, in the pre-evening silence, broken only occasionally by the cry of a predatory bird over the valley, the war horn of the Uurb clan announced the arrival of the opponents. Babeno hit her naked arms several times with her whip, drank a bowl of water from the well, grabbed a handful of maddening mushrooms, and pushed them into her mouth. Chewing from side to side, with eyes red with fury and muscles tensed, she ran to the gate, from where she shouted a powerful challenge.
Garba's crew came mounted, with over fifteen stout warrior women. Hearing Babeno's words, they froze. Surprise broke their formation; those at the back crashed into the front ones, and the lack of space didn't help. They calmed their nervous, snorting mounts. Among them, Garba, gleaming in purple armor with red hair protruding from beneath her brass circlet, silenced the nervous comments with a gesture of her hand and began to cackle from the saddle of her steed.
"Old Babeno wants to test herself against me? Under the eyes of the gods? Am I hearing right?" she shouted at the top of her voice, perfectly audible on the walls to the four Strong, Chechi, and five somewhat anxious Workers who had decided to fight for the gate. "You hear right, red bitch," the insulted Babeno straightened up, "and what's more, ordinary fear lurks behind your arrogant words."
"Fear? Only fear that you'll lose consciousness after the first blow to your old head! Come onto the bridge. I'll crush you and trample you with horses, and then I'll skin your little boy in front of your eyes. We have some unfinished business. Hey, you treacherous bastard! Are you hiding somewhere behind a skirt?"
"None of your business, daughter of the steppes. Our property is our property. Our land does not tolerate your hooves. Our ears do not tolerate your empty threats. And we have true warrior blood in our veins, while your only honor is sucking off stallions, or perhaps even kobolds. Come on, fists up and show me what you're made of, because the sun is setting," the Uurb Clan Elder retorted, demonstratively unbuckling her weapon and, armed only with her fists, softly jumped onto the bridge, which groaned and undulated under her weight. Her boots kicked up a cloud of dust.
"Let us witness…" Chechi announced like a herald, feeling the opportune moment. "The Law of Divine Strength!" roared from the throats of all gathered, from both clans. The roar was so powerful that even the hunting predator stopped in mid-air and looked at what was happening over the river. Garba threw away her two-handed hammer, dismounted from her stirrups, and with enormous leaps in murderous frenzy, ran to meet her.
