Page 51 of Owned By the Orc Warlord
"There's always war somewhere," Rogar replies honestly. "But not the kind that threatens our home. We've proven that unified defense makes conquest too costly for rational enemies to attempt."
"And irrational enemies?" Kael presses.
"Learn rationality through painful experience," I add, drawing laughter from the twins who've heard similar observations throughout their childhood.
The conversation continues as we make our way down from the watchtower toward the family quarters that have expanded to accommodate our growing household. The children pepper us with questions about alliance politics, trade negotiations, and the tactical innovations that keep our territories secure against external threats.
But it's the casual nature of such discussions that truly highlights how much the world has changed. Our children grow up understanding international diplomacy as normal family conversation, viewing cooperation between different peoples as simple common sense rather than revolutionary achievement.
"Mama," Kira says as we reach our quarters, her small hand tugging at my armor with the insistence that marks importantquestions. "Why do some people still think humans and orcs shouldn't be friends?"
The question cuts to the heart of challenges that persist despite years of systematic progress. "Because fear makes people suspicious of change," I explain, lifting her so we can speak eye to eye. "Some people believe that keeping groups separate makes them safer, even when evidence suggests cooperation actually provides better protection."
"That's silly," she declares with the absolute certainty of childhood. "Everyone knows families are stronger when they help each other."
"Everyone in our territory knows that," Rogar corrects gently. "But not everyone has been fortunate enough to grow up in a place where such cooperation is normal."
"Then we should teach them," Drak suggests with the tactical confidence he's inherited from both parents. "Show them how it works, like you showed the allied clans."
"We're trying," I assure him. "But teaching takes time, and some people learn more slowly than others."
The family meal that follows carries the comfortable chaos that marks households with young children. The twins compete to share stories about their training sessions with Khela, while Kira demands equal attention for her own accomplishments in languages and diplomacy. Rogar indulges their individual interests with the patient attention of someone who's learned that fatherhood requires different skills than battlefield command.
But it's the quiet moments between conversations that truly capture the magnitude of what we've built. Our children switching between common tongue and orcish with unconscious ease. The casual discussion of trade agreements and defensive strategies as normal family topics. The absolute security they display in expressing opinions that challenge adult assumptions.
We have created an environment where the next generation can grow up taking cooperation for granted, where mixed families represent normalcy rather than revolution, where strength comes from unity rather than isolation.
"Bedtime stories?" Kira requests as evening activities wind toward conclusion.
"What kind of stories?" Rogar asks, settling into the chair that's become his traditional storytelling position.
"Adventure stories," the twins say simultaneously.
"Stories about Mama escaping from the dark elves," Kira adds, her amber eyes bright with fascination for tales she's heard countless times.
"Those aren't bedtime stories," I protest. "They're entirely too exciting for people who need to sleep peacefully."
"But they're the best stories," Kael argues. "Stories about being brave when everything seems impossible."
"Stories about finding family where you don't expect it," Drak adds.
"Stories about love making people stronger instead of weaker," Kira concludes, unknowingly summarizing the principles that have shaped her entire world.
The storytelling session that follows blends adventure with gentle wisdom, transforming our family's origin story into legend that emphasizes courage, cooperation, and the power of choice over circumstance. By the time all three children settle into sleep, they've absorbed another lesson about the values that created their secure world.
"Satisfied?" Rogar asks as we settle into our own sleeping furs, the private quarters finally quiet after the day's accumulated activities.
"More than satisfied," I reply, curling against his massive frame with the unconscious ease of years of partnership."Amazed. Grateful. Occasionally overwhelmed by how much our choices have rippled outward to affect others."
"No regrets?"
"Only that it took us so long to find each other." I trace the newest scars that mark his torso, evidence of ongoing challenges that leadership continues to demand. "And that our children will face pressures we couldn't anticipate when we started this journey."
"They'll face them with advantages we never had," he points out. "Stable community, allied support, the absolute knowledge that they're valued for who they are rather than what circumstances created them."
"And parents who've proven that seemingly impossible challenges can be overcome through cooperation and determination."
"Think they'll carry on what we've built?"
