Chapter 66: The Ogre Tribe

The ogres’ lair lay several miles north of the abandoned watchtower. Had that bandit gang not run afoul of Leo, the bane of brigands, and settled in the ruins, they would eventually have clashed with the ogres. The place was a sloping cliff, beneath which a shallow cave formed, with a small pool shimmering at its deepest recess.

More than a dozen ogres sprawled lazily across the rocky terrace under the cliff, basking in the sun without a care. On a hillside a mile away, Leo, Faye, and Bjorn stood together, quietly surveying their foes.

Bjorn gazed at Leo with an impassive expression, his eyes saying, “You owe me an explanation.” Leo was equally speechless. Thanks to Faye’s intelligence, he’d brought only twenty militiamen, their main task to dig traps and draw fire. The kobolds, however, were plentiful—seventy or eighty, fully armed. Yet before the massive ogres, they were like children in a nursery, utterly incapable of posing a threat.

An adult ogre stood nearly three meters tall, weighed over a ton, and wielded a club as thick as a grown man’s waist. Their skin was rough and tough, akin to a rhinoceros hide—natural armor, impervious to most arrows and bolts. Should even one ogre break into the ranks, it would be a massacre.

Had he known there were more than a dozen ogres, Leo would never have come! “Is this your so-called ‘two ogres’?” he demanded.

Faye counted her fingers again and replied cheerfully, “That’s right! Fifteen! Two!” The ogre tribe before them all bore two heads each—double-headed ogres, though none yet wielded magic.

In this second three-sided alliance, Faye had contributed the most troops, clearly the main force. She was delighted, feeling her international status had risen, her tail wagging so fast it left a blur.

“If I weren’t surrounded by Faye’s squad of musclebound kobold guards, I’d have slapped her,” Leo muttered. “What now?”

“What else? Retreat,” Bjorn snapped. A seasoned wild hunter, he’d faced strong foes countless times—more often than Leo had fought—and was expert at survival, finding no shame in tactical withdrawal.

To defeat such an ogre tribe, they would need, as before, to gather the whole tribe’s archers and rain arrows from afar, killing them before they could react.

“I’ll observe a bit more,” Leo said, reluctant to give up so easily.

Bjorn left without another word, disappearing into the wild with his men. Faye, confused, watched the hunters depart and asked, “Why are they leaving?”

“Why stay? Want to become ogre chow?” Leo snapped. “You should leave too. We’re not fighting.”

Faye trudged off, casting hopeful backward glances at Leo, wishing he’d change his mind. If they could fight wild boarfolk, why not two ogres? The numbers seemed so small!

Just then, perhaps startled by the commotion, the double-headed ogres sat up and peered about, then swiftly rolled into the nearby thicket. Some were too large to be hidden by the grass and covered themselves with prepared branches and turf, draping it over their bellies and heads. Their camouflage was surprisingly effective; had Leo not watched closely, he’d hardly know the ogres were there.

Amused and emboldened, Leo approached the cliff, gauging the distance and ensuring a quick escape route, then called out loudly, “Is anyone there?”

He shouted thrice. A heavy voice answered nearby, “No one.”

“Oh,” Leo mused aloud, “I thought there were people—I wanted to invite them to dinner!”

Several ogres immediately sat up, tossing aside their covering, and one tried to explain, “There are! There are! Ogres! We count as people!”

Leo objected, “Do ogres count as people? Aren’t ogres man-eaters?”

“Ogres—that’s the human name. We are the Orgei!” one ogre exclaimed, rising excitedly. Even at a distance, its three-meter frame was awe-inspiring—a mountain of flesh.

Freya was equally massive, heavier even, but lacked the ogre’s long legs, often squatting so there was little difference if she stood. Her appearance was cute, not intimidating, though in truth, Freya could outrun a wild boar!

“Oh, so you’re Orgei. Do you eat people?” Leo asked.

The ogre hung its head, “Eat… sometimes.”

It was not ashamed but disappointed; because they ate people, this human surely wouldn’t invite them to dinner after all.

“Tell you what, wait here. I’ll fetch food,” Leo said, making a bold decision as he eyed the ogre tribe.

He returned to the hillside and ordered all the militiamen to hand over their rations, loading everything onto a mule. Since capturing the bandits’ swift horses, Riverbend’s draft power had increased, and many militiamen were learning to ride. Though not able to fight on horseback like bandits, they could serve as mounted infantry, saving stamina and increasing march speed.

But in the wilds, riding was inconvenient; mules were better suited for climbing and cross-country travel. Thus, the militiamen brought several, taking turns riding and hauling loot or wounded.

Leading the mule laden with food, Leo returned to the ogres’ lair and handed the reins to the lead ogre with a smile: “Please, enjoy!”

“Thank you!” The ogres were overjoyed. The leader gripped the mule’s head and twisted—it died instantly. Several female ogres quickly set to work, dressing the carcass. Lacking metal tools, they relied on immense strength to tear the mule to pieces by hand, tossing chunks into a pot, skewering the legs on sticks, and roasting them over the fire.

Civilized, at least—not eaten raw.

The militia’s rations were dumped into the pot and boiled to mush. Poor mule—alive just moments before, now stewing. While the ogres cooked, Leo surveyed their lair and frowned, “This place isn’t much. Isn’t it cold at night? Doesn’t it leak?”

“Cold! Leaks!” came the reply.

“Let me arrange a place for you. After you eat, follow me!” Leo offered.

The ogres exchanged bewildered glances. Food and housing? Are Northlanders so hospitable?

After a feast of roasted mule—which Leo, of course, did not eat (the intestines weren’t even cleaned!)—he led the ogre tribe to the abandoned watchtower. Days had passed since the bandits’ bodies had vanished, leaving only scorch marks and scattered fresh bones. In the center of the gate, a rope dangled a mutilated human skull, attached to a length of spine; the rest had disappeared.

Terrifying. Bloody.

The ogres were delighted. This style of decor—they absolutely loved it!