Book 2, Chapter 66 (1/2)
Vengeance(2)
Richard reined in his horse, sizing up the half-orc warriors standing in his way. The longer he took to observe, the more information he would receive about his target.
There were a total of eight bloodstone orcs stopping Richard, each about two metres tall with the levels between 6 and 8. However, with their innate strength they were similar to warriors a level higher in combat. However, 6 to 8 and 7 to 9 weren’t much different to Richard’s group. There were two mages in their party, and orcs had pitiful resistance to magic.
The leader took two steps forward, pointing at Richard’s nose, “Human! You’ve killed at Camp Bloodstone, and Chief Stormhammer doesn’t like trouble. You’re to come with me now, if he is free he will interrogate you tomorrow.”
“Orc! Dare point at a mage that way again, and your arm will instantly be severed,” Richard answered apathetically.
A few orcs immediately showed looks of terror, and some even retreated. Mages were terrifying to orcs, their existence second only to the evil dragons. However, the leader roared in fury, “Are you threatening the brave warriors of Camp Bloodstone?”
But even if his snarls were fierce, the hand he’d used to point at Richard lowered. Mages were evil and terrifying to orcs, and the legends had made them out to be omnipotent. They could render the most powerful warriors impotent forever, a punishment more frightening than death itself.
“Threatening a mage will result in far worse outcomes,” Richard said with a hint of laughter.
However, the half-orc warrior didn’t seem to think the same way. However, he hummed and finally conceded, “You burnt Mark’s residence. You should at least let us know what happened, no?”
Richard waved his hand, and a footsoldier lifted the corpse’s head to show the orcish warriors its face.
“It’s the Blood Scythe!” one of them cried in alarm.
The violent and powerful fellow was notorious in Camp Bloodstone, but now he’d fallen into the hands of this young and handsome mage. It was unknown whether he was even alive! Mages were truly terrifying aberrations.
Richard spoke leisurely, “This fellow lost a gamble to me at the arena, but he wasn’t willing to pay up. I had no choice but to collect on the debt myself. His life can be considered the interest he owes me.”
“This…” The half-orc scratched his head, at a loss for answers. From the standpoint of maintaining order, it did indeed make sense to enforce debts. Such disputes occurred everyday in Bloodstone, and every once in a while some lives were lost. The problem here was that Richard had created a big mess, and from the looks of it he’d killed off the Blood Scythe’s family as well.
Just as they were at a standstill, a short, stocky figure hastened over from the distance, calling out from his location, “Sir Richard, Lord Richard! Wait, I have something to say!”
This was the dwarven host of the gladiatorial ring. He ran till he was gasping for breath, but even ten or so metres away he couldn’t wait as he spoke out, “Mark isn’t someone to be trifled with! Sir Richard, please do not be too rash… Ah!”
The dwarf was stunned; he had seen Mark’s corpse. His gaze seemed to stay on Mark’s face for an entire minute, and only then did he gulp, turning to look at Richard. At that moment, the charming face seemed no different from that of a devil.