I noticed that Becca wasn’t with Agor this time. A sure sign that our Head Chief didn’t trust these humans enough to bring her along.
“You’re just in time.” Agor greeted me with a handshake and a slap on my shoulder when I approached the group of orcs and humans.
“In time for what?” I wondered, giving the humans a closer look.
They all looked like warriors, but of a finer kind. They had weapons strapped to their belts, helmets perched on their heads, and armor covering their chests. But all their attire was neat and shiny, with lots of unnecessary details and useless decorations.
“Who is this?” a human man asked.
He was tall, with short dark hair that curled above his ears in neat waves that I suspected had been carefully arranged by his barber just that morning.
Agor rested his hand on my shoulder and introduced me proudly, “This is Grat, my second-in-command. He’s a fierce and skilled warrior, who takes part in all important decisions at the keep. And this is the, um…earl?” Agor squinted at the dark-haired human uncertainly.
“Duke,” the man corrected with a tight smile.
“Right. The duke is the Head Chief?—”
“Commander,” the man corrected Agor again.
The pretty blue color of his clothes would look great on Khala, I thought. It matched her eyes perfectly. This man’s eyes were slightly paler than hers and more gray than blue.
“Thecommanderof this lot.” Agor swept the camp with his arm.
“Hi there.” I tipped my chin in the duke’s direction.
“It’s very nice to meet you,Grat.” The duke appeared trying hard not to wince when saying my name. “I beg your pardon, but I don’t know your rank or title.”
“No title.” I snorted a laugh. “Just Grat.”
I didn’t care if my name didn’t sound elegant enough to the duke’s delicate ears. Bog orcs had no fancy titles like humans often gave themselves. Our ranks came with a job, and they were earned, not given or born into. Agor had to fight and win the Mace of the Head Chief, and Becca had to compete for the rank of one of our generals too.
“I didn’t know you were back from your hunting cabin,” Agor said. “When did you return?”
“Just now.” I shrugged the heavy basket with meat from my shoulders. “Can someone take this to the keep?”
Agor gestured to one of our orcs, sending him to the keep with my basket, then turned to me again.
“The duke here is looking for his woman,” Agor said.
Hiswoman? Was that how he called Khala? Or was it someone else they were looking here for?
“May the gods help him,” I muttered gruffly.
“Apparently, the gods haven’t been particularly helpful,” Agor smirked. “The duke is asking for our help to track her.”
Was he now?
I rolled back my shoulders, taking a wider stance. “If the woman ran away, maybe she doesn’t want to be tracked.”
The duke arched a slim black eyebrow. “I never said she ran away.”
Fuck. True, he didn’t. A stupid slip-up on my part.
“How did you lose her then?” I asked.
He sighed, a mournful expression settling over his face. “We were attacked and got separated. She was abducted by our attackers. But when I and my people caught up and ambushed them, she was no longer with them. My brave, beautiful bride defended herself by killing one of her abductors and running away.”
Killing. The asshole died after all. But that wasn’t the word that disturbed me.
