Her pretty brown eyes flicker with confusion. “Wait. They could have fixed it? Theywantedus desperate and starving?”
“Did it make you easier to control?” I ask bluntly.
“I… I guess it did,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t think people would be so quick to send their second-borns to the auction if they had a choice. Only wealthy families can afford the Reparations Tax. That’s theonlyway to avoid the auction.”
“Greed makes monsters,” I growl. “Humans fill their factories with slaves, instead of paying fair wages to those who need work. They buy food from us, just like what you see in the fridge, then stick it in a Reviver and ship it across the country.”
“There’s never enough,” she mutters. “Sometimes it’s rotten by the time it gets to us, but we eat it anyway. We’ve tried raising livestock, but we can’t feed them long enough for them to become a proper meal. They end up starving, just like us.”
“Bet you always thought we were the monster, hmm?” I ask, walking past her. “Follow me.”
She wisely leaves her coffee cup on the counter rather than bringing it with her. I still need what’s left of mine.
“Just so you don’t wander off until I’m ready to let you explore on your own,” I growl, attaching the leather lead to her collar. She stands obediently and doesn’t seem as bothered by it this time. “Let’s go.”
I lead her through the hallways of Zrogmul until we reach my throne room, where I waited for my gift from Lord and Lady Frax’mo, expecting something a lot more useful than a trembling human girl I couldn’t even bring myself to whip.
“Do you normally spend your day on your throne?” she asks, struggling to keep up with me.
“Rarely,” I say. “I never see anyone in person anymore unless I have to. No reason to waste fuel or time.”
I walk to the wall behind my throne, sliding my finger across the hidden panel until it appears. This door won’t open automatically because it requires a code. I punch it in, the door opens, and I step inside, tugging on her leash.
“This is my office,” I explain, flipping the switch that will bring everything online. “I’ll be in here for most of the day.”
The computer hums as it powers up, a dozen screens lighting up on the wall in front of my desk. Some orcs call it a command center, but there’s nothing to command. Not anymore. My kingdom is a bureaucratic dream. Turns out, orcs are even better at peace than we are waging war.
“Do you want me to stay here with you?” she asks meekly, looking around, clearly not used to seeing this kind of technology.
“No,” I growl, waving a hand dismissively. “You can entertain yourself. I just wanted you to see where I’m going to be in case you need something. I’m hoping you won’t. I’ve got work to do.”
“Oh, okay,” she says. “Lady Frax’mo said you were in your final days and that you needed someone to keep your brilliant mind active. I thought that was because you live in isolation, but it looks like you can still keep in contact with everyone.”
I pull her a little closer, staring incredulously into her eyes as I remove the leash from her collar.
“Someone to keep mybrilliantmindactive?” I scoff, chuckling dryly under my breath. “That’s not why she gifted you to me, but the reason doesn’t matter. Now go find something to do before I decide to stick you in the dungeon for the day instead of letting you wander around Zrogmul.”
“I’ll try not to bother you,” she whispers, then quickly scurries out the door.
Truthfully, I don’t havemuchwork to do. I just want to get it over with. These meetings are barely necessary. More tradition than necessity. But as long as I’m king, the Lords, Ladies, and generals need to occasionally see my face.
Faces appear on the screen as other orcs join the meeting. This one is with the Lords and Ladies. There are two types of them in Uzrirgard. Those who inherited their title from their families, and those who obtained it through marriage. Only those who are natural-born nobility attend these meetings.
We discuss things that barely matter. Fuel prices, government budgets, crop yields. Things they think I should have some input on, even though I’ve trusted most of them to deal with petty things like that for as long as they’ve been in power. Just like Itrusted their parents and grandparents before them. The faces on the screens may change periodically, but most everything else remains the same.
After the meeting wraps up, I send a private message to Lord Frax’mo, letting him know I want to meet with him separately. I wait for his call and answer immediately.
“I already know what this is about, Your Majesty,” Lord Frax’mo answers hesitantly. “I tried to talk her out of it, but you know how she is.”
“Every single day, I find a new reason to regret letting you two wed,” I rumble. “You both know how I feel about humans.”
“Well aware, Your Majesty,” he says. “But Gutha’s grandmother was a soothsayer. My wife still believes in the old prophecies. Still does rituals to the Twelve Gods every night before bed.”
“And where were the Twelve Gods when we faced extinction, hmm?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “If the prophecies are true, that should never have happened. The prophecies aren’t from the Twelve Gods. Just from old orc women who ate too many roots and chased them with too much grog.”
“A lot of orcs still believe in them, though,” Lord Frax’mo sighs. “If the human girl is too much of a burden, you can send her to my estate. I’ll make Gutha take care of her. Maybe if my wife has a pet, she’ll be too busy to scheme.”
I lean back in my chair and consider it. I can’t refuse a gift without upsetting tradition. My faith in the Twelve Gods may not be as strong as it once was, but I’d never openly slight them. I just believe old prophecies and folklore belong in the past with the primitive ways we’ve left behind.
