The Call of the Orc Tribe
A full month had passed since the completion of Ashenveli’s first stage, and in that short time, the village had transformed from a fragile settlement into a thriving home.
The new marketplace bustled each morning, Mira’s workshop never sat silent, and the fields—under the guidance of the farmers—had begun sprouting fresh green shoots.
Children laughed freely, running across stone paths Heldric’s brothers had paved with care.
At night, lanterns lit the village like stars resting on earth, warm and safe.
Voltaro walked through the village paths almost every dawn, watching his people grow stronger—not through force or fear, but through unity. These days, the weight in his chest felt lighter. Ashenveli finally breathed.
But peace never remained untested.
---
Eran Returns With a Warning
One afternoon, as the sun dipped low and the air cooled with the scent of soil and early winter, a figure sprinted across the entrance road—dust swirling behind him.
It was Eran, the scout boy Voltaro had personally recognized months ago. His lungs heaved, his eyes were wide, and his clothing was stained with travel dirt and scattered leaves.
Raven spotted him first. “Oi! Eran! What happened?”
But Eran didn’t slow. He ran straight for Voltaro, who stood near the central square speaking with Heldric.
“Boss… Boss Voltaro!” Eran gasped, falling to one knee. “I—I came as fast as I could.”
Voltaro rested a steady hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Speak. What did you see?”
Eran swallowed hard. “A… tribe. A big one. They set up camp near the north mountain pass—inside the forest edge.”
Selena stiffened beside Voltaro.
Raven narrowed his eyes. “A tribe? What kind?”
Eran hesitated for a painful moment before answering.
“Orcs.”
The word fell like an axe.
Villagers nearby froze, exchanging tense glances. Even Heldric’s jaw clenched.
Voltaro didn’t react outwardly, but his eyes sharpened. “How many?”
Eran shook his head. “I didn’t count all, but… at least eighty warriors. Maybe more in the shadows. They’re organized, not wild.”
“Organized orcs?” Selena muttered. “That’s not a small matter…”
Eran continued, voice trembling slightly. “Their leader… a big one with black war markings… he said he wants to meet ‘the one who commands Ashenveli.’ You, Voltaro.”
Raven folded his arms. “They came with demands?”
Eran nodded quickly. “Yes. They said to tell Voltaro this:
‘We want words, not war.’
But… the leader’s tone… I couldn’t understand his intention.”
Heldric let out a slow breath. “Orcs are straightforward, but not predictable. If they come looking for the boss, it’s serious.”
The villagers nearby began whispering nervously.
“Orcs? Why here?”
“Are they going to invade?”
“Should we prepare weapons?”
Voltaro raised a hand, silencing them all.
“No panic,” he said calmly. “Eran did well bringing the news quickly.”
Eran bowed his head, breathing heavily. “Voltaro… they didn’t attack me. They saw me, approached me, and allowed me to leave. That’s… unusual for orcs.”
“That means this is not a raid,” Voltaro said.
Raven eyed him. “So what are you thinking, boss?”
Voltaro turned his gaze toward the northern mountains, where the forest shadows darkened like a looming secret.
“This is a direct summons. If we ignore it, we risk hostility. If we respond… we may gain something.”
Selena nodded slowly. “And if they respect strength, then meeting them with confidence may be the only safe choice.”
Voltaro crossed his arms. “We go. Raven, Selena—you're coming with me.”
Raven cracked his knuckles, excitement in his smirk. “Finally, something interesting.”
Selena sighed softly. “Let’s hope it doesn’t become something worse.”
Heldric stepped forward with a stern frown. “Boss, we’ll prepare defenses here. Just in case. Ashenveli won’t be caught unready.”
Voltaro gave him a low nod. “Good. Keep the villagers calm. And Mira—keep her inside the workshop.”
Heldric’s nod was firm. “Understood.”
Eran looked up anxiously. “Voltaro… be careful.”
Voltaro placed a hand on the boy’s head. “You did more than enough. Rest now.”
Then Voltaro turned to his companions.
“Prepare. We head to the orc tribe immediately.”
---
The Journey to the Northern Pass
The three of them—Voltaro, Raven, and Selena—left Ashenveli before sunset.
The northern pass was a rugged, harsh path carved between mountains thick with ancient forests. The air grew colder as they climbed higher, and the shadows lengthened into jagged shapes across the ground.
Raven walked ahead lightly, scanning the area with quick eyes. Selena followed behind him, her hand near her frost staff, magic humming softly around her fingers. Voltaro walked at the center, steady as a mountain, his presence grounding the entire group.
As they crossed the ridge, Selena broke the silence.
“Orcs usually don’t seek diplomacy. This tribe might be different.”
Raven scoffed. “Orcs are simple. They respect strength. If they want words, maybe their leader has some brains.”
Voltaro nodded. “We’ll understand once we see him. But keep your senses sharp. Orcs rarely travel without reason.”
Finally, as night crept over the mountains, they saw torches—a ring of them flickering like red eyes in the distance.
The orc encampment.
Thick wooden stakes guarded the perimeter, their tips sharpened. Tents made from beast hides stood arranged in broad circles. Warriors with massive builds patrolled the camp, each carrying axes taller than a grown man.
Raven muttered under his breath, “Looks like a small army…”
Selena inhaled slowly. “They aren’t hiding their numbers.”
Voltaro stepped forward fearlessly.
“Let's announce ourselves.”
As he approached the entrance, two orc guards stepped out, both towering, muscles rippling beneath skin painted with tribal marks. Their tusks gleamed in the firelight.
One of them grunted, voice deep like grinding stone.
“You… human… are Voltaro?”
Voltaro nodded calmly. “I am.”
The second guard studied Raven and Selena. “You bring two. Good. Weaklings should not walk alone.”
Raven grinned. “Say that again when I’m standing on your chest.”
Selena elbowed him lightly. “Not here.”
The guards didn’t take offense; they laughed, a loud booming sound.
“You have spirit. Good. Come. Chieftain waits.”
They led the trio deeper into the camp.
Orc children peeked from behind tents, curious but not hostile. Female orcs ground herbs and prepared food. Warriors sharpened weapons, their eyes following Voltaro’s group with interest.
This was no savage band—this was a structured tribe.
Finally, they reached the largest tent, marked with black paint and animal bones. The guards pushed the flap open.
“Enter. Chieftain expects you.”
Voltaro stepped inside first.
---
The Orc Chieftain
The interior was vast and dim, lit by fire bowls. The scent of smoke and incense lingered.
At the far end sat a massive orc on a stone-like seat—his skin dark green, muscles like tree trunks, tusks long and sharp. Black markings crossed his arms and chest. His golden eyes glowed with intelligence, not mindless rage.
He was the tribe leader.
When Voltaro entered, the orc rose to his full height.
“You are Voltaro,” he said, voice vibrating through the ground.
Voltaro met his gaze without fear. “I am.”
The orc looked him over, assessing every detail like weighing the worth of a blade.
“I am Kro’gar, Chieftain of the Black-Fang Orc Tribe.”
Raven whispered, “Black-Fang? Those are the elite tribes…”
Selena nodded silently—impressed.
Kro’gar continued, folding his arms.
“We watched your village from the shadows these last weeks. Saw humans build… strong. Saw them unite. Saw… order.”
Voltaro didn’t speak, letting him continue.
Kro’gar’s golden eyes locked onto his.
“We did not come to conquer humans. Not this time.”
Voltaro raised a brow. “Then why summon me?”
The chieftain’s voice dropped lower.
“Because my tribe faces danger. A threat even we cannot ignore.
And your rise… your strength… caught our attention.”
Raven leaned closer to Voltaro, whispering, “Boss… he’s asking for help?”
Selena’s eyes widened. “Orcs never ask for help.”
Kro’gar stepped forward, the ground trembling lightly.
“We demand a meeting because we see something in you, Voltaro.
A leader.
One who can change this land.”
Voltaro clenched his jaw slightly. “What is it you want from Ashenveli?”
Kro’gar took a deep breath.
“Our tribe wants an alliance.”
Silence.
Even the fire crackling seemed to pause.
Raven blinked. “Alliance… with humans?”
Selena whispered, “This is unheard of.”
Kro’gar nodded.
“If you agree… we offer strength. Warriors. Hunting ground access. Protection against enemies.
In exchange… we want safe passage, trade… and a voice beside yours.”
Voltaro studied him carefully.
This was not a trick.
This was a chance to change the future.
Voltaro’s voice came low and firm.
“I will hear everything. But know this—Ashenveli bows to no one. If we speak as allies, we speak as equals.”
Kro’gar smiled—a sharp, fierce smile filled with approval.
“Good. That is why we chose you.”
Voltaro stepped forward. “Tell me the full story, Chieftain of the Black-Fang.”
Kro’gar’s eyes narrowed gravely.
“Then listen, Voltaro of Ashenveli…
For what hunts us now…
Will soon come for you.”
And the flames wavered like warning signs in the dark.
Too be continue...