1218 A.B.

  King Karnas regarded the ogres standing before him calmly. At least outwardly, he did. As he sat in his throne, he projected an aura of fear and strength that continually battered at the minds of everyone in his shadowy throne room.

  There was an ornate scrollcase set in a specially made niche in the arm of his golden throne, and he playfully traced the designs in the scrollcase with a finger. It was a gesture designed to draw their attention to the scrollcase. The ogres looked at the case, of course. For an ogre, staring at something was the first step to fighting for it. Every ogre knew this, and not one single ogre was bold enough to challenge King Karnas. They immediately dropped their gazes to the floor when they noticed the king regarding their lust for the scrollcase. They knew the significance of that object, and they knew Karnas would kill them for even looking at it askance.

  The ogres, known by everyone in Aldon to be chaotic and pugnacious, were positively docile in King Karnas’ throne room. They held their weapons behind their backs, out of view, a sure sign that they wanted peace, and something they would rather die than admit. In normal times, every ogre had his weapon in his hand and in full view of everyone around him, an open threat in their warrior culture. Standing before King Karnas, hostility was the last thing they wanted to project.

  Kromwell was arrayed in his red demonic armor, standing beside and below the throne next to a few other men, facing the ogres with some of the king’s attendants. He studied the ogres, noting their disposition and more importantly, their attitudes towards each other. The twelve ogres in attendance were all larger than normal, and they carried huge, but somewhat crude axes. Unconsciously on their part, they arrayed themselves in an angle, with the biggest, meanest, ugliest ogre standing in the middle facing the king. The others lined up on the left and right of him with the smaller ones standing slightly behind the bigger ones. A normal ogre was ten to twelve feet tall, but the brute in the center was easily fourteen or fifteen feet in height.

  “Do you know why I summoned you here, Chieftains?” King Karnas asked.

  The biggest of them scratched his mangy scalp. “You want war?” he growled out. The other ogres slumped their shoulders, trying to appear smaller. They didn’t want to consider war with King Karnas, nor did they want him to think they threatened him with a challenge of any kind.

  “That’s right. War with Stonekeep, far to the east,” the king said.

  The biggest ogre stood straighter, chest out, and got a gleam in his eyes. They lived to fight, and now that he understood he wasn’t being threatened with war himself, he snarled. It was the closest this one had ever gotten to smiling. “Long way. You pay extra this time.”

  “Of course,” the king said benevolently. He snapped his fingers, and a shaft of golden light illuminated twelve chests of different sizes, all lined up from largest to smallest. The ogres grinned as they beheld the wealth awaiting them. Some already started jostling their neighbors, instinctively competing for the largest prize they could carry away. “This time, though, I want you to go by the fastest route overland, without sacking any of the bigger cities before you get to Stonekeep.”

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  The ogres didn’t like the sound of that, and they all growled in anger despite the king’s power on display. Even the most stupid of them knew they had to have a steady supply of food, and a great deal of it, to go that far. To them, sacking human cities for slaves and food was a necessity.

  “You have blood feud with Stonekeep?” the biggest chief asked.

  “Yes, we do,” the king said. “We will help you get to Stonekeep by providing food, transportation of many ogres, a way to get across the river when you arrive, and most importantly, a way to more easily break down their gates.”

  The ogres liked the sound of that. They snarled at each other, their equivalent of happy noises.

  “The man in the green cloak there will help you construct ships and show you how to sail them. You will not allow his men to be eaten! Understand?”

  “No eat. Hate ships.”

  “Your opinion will change when you see how fast you can raid nearby cities. We will teach you how to make ships yourselves so you can raid by sea after this war is over,” the king said. The ogres shuffled indecisively, so he pressed on. “The man in black is the leader of my best engineers. He makes siege engines and tears down walls fast. No eating his men.”

  “No eat. Like chopping things old way,” the ogre leader said.

  “When you see the walls breached, you will change your mind. The man in the red armor is my general, and he will lead the armies in my name.”

  At this, the ogres revolted, shouting and stomping their enormous feet and brandishing their weapons. No ogre wanted to be told what to do by anything so puny as a human, and the fear aura King Karnas maintained did nothing to quell their rebellion. Kromwell, knowing what he must do, stepped forward, drawing his broad bladed sword and hefting his shield into place. The smallest ogre, ever eager to improve his standing, hefted a greataxe larger than a man over his head and charged.

  Kromwell channeled demonic power into his sword, causing it to radiate darkness, and let the ogre come. The infernal writing on his shield glowed red at his mental command and he set his feet firmly. The ogre rushed forward and chopped straight down on the raised shield with his greataxe in a two-handed grip. The axe hit the shield with a tremendous crash, but thanks to the power within him, Kromwell blocked the blow with little apparent effort. All the ogres grunted in surprise. That blow should have cut a human in half, and they all knew it. The ogre swung the greataxe around again for another try, and again chopped straight down onto Kromwell’s blocking shield. Again, there was a great clanging sound as the shield stopped the blow.

  This time Kromwell leapt forward and stabbed the ogre through its meaty thigh. It howled in pain and tried to bat Kromwell away with the pommel of its axe, but Kromwell parried the blow with his shield and stabbed it in the other thigh. Unable to stand because of the smoking stab wounds, the ogre fell to its knees and put a dirty hand out to the floor to steady itself. Kromwell took advantage of that and with a great overhand chop, he cut the ogre’s head completely off. Blood fountained out, and the severed head rolled to a stop with a sound like a wooden sphere hitting the stone. Thock! Thock! Thump! The ogre was briefly able to see its body hit the floor and soundlessly roar out a denial before its eyes glazed over in death.

  That shut the assembled ogres up instantly. Strength at arms was the only thing an ogre respected, and that demonstration had the desired effect. The ogres lowered their weapons.

  “No eat. He leads.”