Page 85 of The Orc's Captive Bride
They walked, not speaking. Just two orcs moving through the palace grounds. To any casual observer, they’d look like warriors on patrol. He led them to the outer walls, to a section where the guards rotated every hour, and where conversations could be had without immediate oversight.
“Talk,” Declar said. “And make it quick.”
“Lasseran is planning a ritual.”
“So? He’s always planning rituals.”
“This one requires orc sacrifices.”
Declar’s expression didn’t change. “How many?”
“At least four, and perhaps more.”
“And he wants you to choose them.”
Not a question. Declar understood immediately.
Because he knows how Lasseran operates. How he uses us against each other.
“Yes.”
Declar turned away and stared out over the city. Kel’Vara stretched below them. Stone and shadow. Wealth and poverty pressed together. A monument to Lasseran’s power.
“When?”
“Two weeks. The next full moon—the Blood Moon.”
Silence.
The wind picked up, carrying the smell of smoke from the lower districts.
“You’re lying,” Declar said finally.
“I’m not.”
“Why would he waste resources like that? We’re valuable. Trained. Loyal.”
“Because he doesn’t see us as valuable. He sees us as expendable.” He moved to stand beside him. “Tools to be used and discarded when they’re no longer useful.”
“That’s not?—”
“Yes it is. You know it is.”
Declar’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the wall hard enough that the stone cracked.
“He raised us. Trained us. We’re his personal guard.”
“And when he needs power, we’re also the perfect sacrifice. Orcs he controls completely, who won’t run and won’t resist. Who won’t even question the order to walk to our deaths.”
The words hung between them. Declar’s breathing was harsh. Uneven.
“This is a test,” he said. “Lasseran sent you to test my loyalty.”
“No.”
“You’re trying to turn me against him.”
“I’m trying to save your life. And the lives of our brothers.”
