Page 87 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ve finally found it.”
“This is insane. Suicidal.”
“Probably.”
“And you’re telling me this why? Because you think I’ll help you?”
“I’m telling you because you deserve to know, you and the others, that Lasseran is planning to kill us, but we have a choice.”
“We don’t have a choice. We’ve never had a choice.”
“We do now.”
Declar turned away, pacing back and forth. His hand kept going to his chest, pressing against the invisible chains.
“I can’t,” he said finally. “I can’t go against him. Even knowing what he’s planning, I can’t.”
“Then don’t. Not yet. Just… think about it. Question the next order he gives you. See what happens.”
“What happens is I die.”
“Or you live. Actually live instead of just existing as his weapon.”
Declar stopped pacing and stared at him.
“There’s something you need to know,” he said. “About the ritual.”
His stomach dropped. “What about it?”
“The orcs Lasseran used before—the test he did in the Old Kingdom with the orcs he turned into mindless predators.”
“What about them?”
“They’re all dead.”
He flinched.
“Dead how?”
“They killed each other. Tore themselves apart in the dungeons.” Declar’s voice was flat and emotionless. “The guards found them—there was nothing left but blood and bone.”
No.
“Lasseran ordered it?”
“No. They just… lost themselves. The blood lust took them completely. They couldn’t come back from it.”
The curse. Lasseran’s control had pushed them too far. Made them into what the curse was never supposed to create. Mindless beasts. And once that happened, there was no coming back.
“How many?” he asked.
“Six. All of them trained warriors. All of them loyal.”
“And now they’re dead because Lasseran needed power.”
“Or because the curse broke them.”
“The curse didn’t break them. Lasseran did.”
