Page 18 of Owned By the Orc Warlord
"Messages to send?" Rogar asks as we gather intelligence materials that might prove useful.
"Several." I study the captured documents with growing satisfaction. "First, that our defensive preparations are more sophisticated than they anticipated. Second, that attacking this settlement will cost more than they're prepared to pay. Third, that maybe easier targets exist elsewhere."
"Psychological warfare."
"The most effective kind. Make them afraid of what they can't see or predict, and they'll find reasons to avoid confrontation rather than seeking it."
The cleanup operation continues through dawn, transforming brutal battlefield into unremarkable terrain that bears no obvious signs of recent combat. Bodies disappear into canyon crevices that will hide evidence for years, while blood-stained ground receives careful attention to eliminate traces that magical investigation might detect.
By the time morning light fully illuminates the settlement, the dark elf scouts have simply vanished without explanation. Their commanders will know something went wrong, but they won't know exactly what or how much intelligence was compromised in the process.
"Think it worked?" Khela asks as we complete final security sweeps.
"It worked," I reply with absolute certainty. "They came expecting to find conventional defensive preparations and routine patrol schedules. Instead, they found coordinated ambush tactics that eliminated their entire reconnaissance element without leaving witnesses."
"And?"
"And now their commanders have to plan assault operations without current intelligence, against enemies who've demonstrated capabilities they didn't expect." I smile at thetactical implications. "Fear of the unknown is more effective than any fortress wall."
The strategy proves correct over the following hours as distant observation reveals dark elf forces withdrawing from advanced positions they'd established around our territory. The psychological impact of losing an entire scout team to enemies they'd underestimated creates exactly the kind of uncertainty that makes military commanders reconsider their operational priorities.
But as the immediate crisis passes and adrenaline fades from my system, I'm forced to confront the personal complications that combat temporarily pushed aside. The claiming bonds still bind me to obligations I don't fully understand, while the warrior authority I've claimed carries responsibilities that was way beyond personal survival.
"No regrets about the fighting?" Rogar asks as we secure weapons and equipment for storage.
"None," I reply honestly. "Combat feels natural when the stakes are clear and the objectives are achievable."
"And regrets about other recent developments?"
The careful question addresses concerns I've been avoiding since the claiming ceremony. Looking at his scarred features, reading the genuine uncertainty in his grey eyes, I realize that he's as unsure about the bonds we've created as I am.
"Ask me again when I've had time to understand what I've committed to," I say finally. "Right now, I'm still processing the implications of promises made under pressure."
"Fair enough." His massive hand finds mine with surprising gentleness. "But remember that commitment doesn't have to mean loss of identity. The best partnerships enhance rather than diminish individual strengths."
The observation carries weight that extends beyond romantic platitudes to encompass practical realities about how claimingbonds actually function. Perhaps the fears that have been consuming my thoughts reflect misunderstanding rather than genuine incompatibility.
Perhaps learning to trust doesn't require abandoning the independence that's kept me alive through impossible circumstances.
Perhaps the claiming represents opportunity rather than trap, if I'm brave enough to discover what partnership can become when built on mutual respect rather than mere necessity.
Time will tell. But for now, survival takes precedence over psychological complications, and we've proven once again that cooperation creates advantages no one person could achieve alone.
The blood on my armor tells its own story—of enemies eliminated, threats neutralized, and home defended through coordinated action. Whether the claiming bonds prove blessing or burden remains to be seen.
But at least we'll face that uncertainty together, as partners who've proven their value to each other through shared trials and mutual support.
And perhaps that's enough foundation to build something worth the risks we've taken to create it.
8
ROGAR
Time pass like water through cupped hands, each one bringing changes I couldn't have anticipated when I first laid eyes on Zahra's defiant form in the wasteland. The dark elf assault never materialized—due to our preemptive strike. They will probably come back but not so soon.
But Zahra didn't escape. She stayed, and in staying, she's transformed not just herself but the entire fabric of clan life.
I watch her now through the smoke of the evening cooking fires, noting how naturally she moves among my warriors. Thresh hangs on her every word as she demonstrates a knife-fighting technique learned in Liiandor's back alleys. Vex nods thoughtful approval as she explains the weaknesses in dark elf armor construction. Even Karg, his pride still wounded from their combat but his respect grudgingly earned, listens when she speaks of tactical matters.
