Praise the Orc

Chapter 97: Monsters

Arden’s conspiracy came to an end thanks to Tiyo’s final shots. The captain of the garrison let them know the conflict was over, and Nameragon soon regained its vigor. The citizens of Nameragon began filling the once-empty street and public square. They were surprisingly unfazed by the massive battle that had taken place in the middle of their streets.

“What did I tell you? I said Ladet would take care of things on his own.”

“There’s no way someone like Arden could overturn our city.”

“The garrison worked hard. They sure did a great job.”

Nameragon resumed its daily life. It could have been a dangerous situation if it hadn’t been for Crockta and his friends. However, the citizens had deep faith in Ladet, and this incident reflected that.

Ladet went around Nameragon, expressing gratitude to his citizens and assuring the public.

“Citizens of Nameragon! Thank you! We were able to quickly resolve the situation thanks to everyone responding calmly to the situation. Hahaha!” he said cheerfully.

“Hey, great work. Mayor,” someone commented.

“No, no. This is my job. Hahaha! Arden was merely playing a joke on us!”

Some dark elves were looking at Crockta’s crew nervously.

“Mayor, who is that orc and that gnome? During these turbulent times...”

“Ahh, they are my friends. They helped me out a lot this time,” replied Ladet.

“If you say so.”

Ladet made his rounds around the city and returned to the City Hall where Driden and Arden’s soldiers were tied up. He hadn’t yet decided what to do with them.

“I will hold off on you guys until Jamero returns,” said Ladet as he struck the back of Arden’s head.

Arden glared at him in response.

“If you've been bewitched by sorcery, we will take that into account,” Ladet told Arden.

Ladet believed that the sorcerer who stayed by the chieftain’s side had played some trick on Arden, and Arden didn’t deny it. Although he didn’t think that he had fallen for a sorcerer’s trick, he didn’t want to let go of the chance to reduce the punishment he would receive since he had lost the fight anyway. Arden was undoubtedly an opportunist.

Ladet’s gaze then shifted toward Driden.

“Driden,” called out Ladet.

Driden raised his head. His face was expressionless, but there was a burning resentment in his eyes.

“Are you Julio’s son?” asked Ladet.

Driden nodded.

Ladet shuffled through his memories. Julio had also used two swords like Driden. He earned the nickname ‘Ghost Swordsman’ due to his effortless swordplay, which made it seem as though two ghosts possessed his arms. It was Ladet who killed him.

“I was the one who killed him,” stated Ladet.

Driden’s hands twitched. He instinctively searched for his swords, but there was nothing for him to swing.

“But I don’t regret it. Do you know the kind of man your father was?” asked Ladet.

“...”

“He was a madman who killed everyone around him during his bouts of insanity.”

Julio had been insane. Initially, he had been a swordsman who roamed the north and went on adventures with Ladet. However, one day, he received a mortal wound during a battle. Although the injury was treated, he became increasingly angry as a side effect of the pain and ultimately turned into a madman.

“Did you know?” asked Ladet.

Driden dropped his head and spat on the ground. Then, he opened his eyes again. His gaze was without even a hint of emotion.

“So?” he replied.

“I just did what I had to do.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Driden as he gazed at Ladet’s throat.

It was obvious from his expression that he would try to cut Ladet’s throat if he could grab a hold of anything sharp in his hands. He was like a butcher who mechanically slaughtered animals without any emotion as if he was just carrying out an order.

“I’m also doing what I need to do,” stated Driden.

It was then that Ladet realized that Driden was a sword that Julio had smelted, and Arden had merely given him a target. Thus, Driden just charged forward; he couldn’t change his trajectory or stop. He was an incomplete lethal weapon that could only pierce its enemy. Like a machine, he was just fulfilling the mission that had been fed, which was to kill his target.

“Throw all of them in jail,” ordered Ladet.

“Yes.”

The members of the garrison dragged Driden and the others away to be imprisoned until Jamero returned. Then, they would dole out the final punishment based on Jamero’s recommendations.

Ladet went back inside his office.

“Whew,” he let out a sigh.

He was now facing another battlefield—a wide desk with countless documents stacked on top of each other. Numerous projects were carried out under his signature, including minor administrative matters, a request for cooperation from Spinora, and countermeasures against the chiefdom. Ladet was essentially Nameragon itself, so the enemies’ swords were all pointed at him. Compared to this, life had been much simpler when he just wandered the world with a single sword as a warrior.

Ladet thought of the three visitors whom he had met earlier in the day—the orc warrior Crockta, the gnome soldier Tiyo, and the half-dark-elf Anor from Nuridot. There had been a time when Ladet had been like them as well.

Looking at the piles of paperwork in front of him, Ladet felt envious of the three visitors.

“No.”

Ladet grinned and shook his head. He didn’t long for the past; his two eyes always stayed fixated on his present reality. In the past, his enemies had been fighters who swung their swords at him, but now his enemy was the crisis that would encroach the north. He couldn’t overcome the waves of adversity brought forth by the chieftain by doing what they had always done. Thus, he had to boldly look forward. His weapon had to become something else other than just a sword.

Right then, someone knocked on his office door.

Ladet put on a smile and said, “Come in.”

It was Crockta, Tiyo, and Anor. Ladet pointed at the chairs across from his desk.

“Feel free to tell me anything,” Ladet told them.

Nevertheless, Crockta didn’t sit down.

“I heard we need your permission to enter the Temple of the Fallen God,” said Crockta.

“That is correct,” replied Ladet.

“Please give us permission to do so.”

“Hmm...” Ladet murmured with a subtle smile.

As a former warrior, it wasn’t easy for him to play the part of a negotiator.

Ladet said, “I can’t just let anyone into the Temple of the Fallen God—”

Irked by that response, Tiyo interjected, “Anyone? We saved Nameragon!”

“That’s true, but...” Ladet caressed his chin awkwardly as if putting on a show.

“Ladet, stop with the pretense and just tell us if you want something from us,” said Crockta.

Ladet nodded. “As expected, you are sharp.”

“He wants more after all we did? You really are shameless,” remarked Tiyo.

“I’m sorry, but I have a whole city to look after,” said Ladet. He shrugged and tapped on his desk that was overflowing with documents, gesturing that the entirety of Nameragon was his responsibility. “It’s not a big deal, but if you go to Nameragon’s detention center, you’ll find Driden locked up there.”

“Hmm...” muttered Tiyo.

“Please help him change his mind,” requested Ladet.

“What? Why should we try to persuade him? You do it!” exclaimed Tiyo.

“It won’t work if I do it, but it might be possible for you guys, especially Crockta,” explained Ladet while looking at Crockta. “Did you see Driden’s expression when he was fighting with you? He’s the kind of guy who needs someone stronger than him to appear and show him the right way. Right now, he is lost and is only looking to avenge his father.”

Ladet got up from his seat and approached Crockta. Then, he handed Crockta a document.

Crockta squinted his eyes to read it, wondering what it was.

“Teach that foolish guy who he is really destined to be,” said Ladet.

***

Crockta headed to Nameragon’s garrison building to visit the detention center located in its basement. The captain of the garrison, who was still not fond of Crockta, reluctantly guided him to the basement.

When Crockta arrived downstairs, he saw that Driden’s arms were bound, and he was gazing blankly into the darkness.

“Please open the door,” requested Crockta.

The captain of the garrison glanced at Crockta and then opened the door.

“We will stay here, so look out for yourself on your own,” Tiyo said and grudgingly crossed his arms.

He didn’t understand why Crockta had to take on this matter and refused to get involved.

So, Crockta went inside by himself. Driden turned his head to look as Crockta entered. The large orc’s stature filled up the small cell.

A faint smile spread across Driden’s lips.

“Hey, orc,” greeted Driden.

“Dark elf,” muttered Crockta.

Driden was in a dire state. He wasn’t even clothed properly. There were bruises all over his body as if he had been beaten up, and there were bloody scabs on his lips.

However, even in this dreary state, Driden said, “It was fun earlier.”

Crockta nodded.

Ladet was right. Driden was someone who always needed an opponent to fight. Crockta could sort of understand why everyone called Driden’s father a madman for having turned his son into this. Driden always had to swing at somebody as long as he had a sword in hand.

Driden himself was like a sword, and Arden had had a grip on Driden’s hilt up to this point. Nonetheless, Ladet wanted to hold it now.

“I had fun too,” Crockta replied.

Crockta—or Jung Yi-An—also used to be a mindless sword that was held by someone else. What he most regretted about his past was that he’d only ever done things based on the decisions of others and not by his own will. Because of that, he couldn’t bear the regretful things he’d done in the past.

Driden reminded Crockta of his past self. This guy was like a bird that had just hatched from an egg. He didn’t know anything, and all he did was swing his sword.

Crockta lowered his head to get on Driden’s eye level. Driden furrowed his eyebrows as the orc’s terrifying face moved right in front of him.

“Whew,” Crockta sighed and shook his head.

‘This seemingly normal guy is no different from a little kid. He can’t cope with his problems, and all he does is swing his sword.’

“Pathetic,” muttered Crockta.

“What?” asked Driden.

“Nothing,” Crockta replied. Then he asked, “What are you going to do after killing your enemy?”

“...”

“You don’t have any plans, right?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“If you have none, just say so.”

“...”

“You don’t have any.”

Suddenly, Crockta slapped Driden’s cheek.

“...!” The dark elves standing outside the prison were more surprised than Driden at Crockta’s unexpected attack.

Driden’s head snapped to the side. He lowered his head, and after checking the inside of his mouth with his tongue, he spat out some blood.

“It’s annoying, right?” asked Crockta.

“...”

Driden raised his head again. His eyes blazed with fury. He glared at Crockta with eyes full of hate as if Crockta were an arch-nemesis whom he couldn’t bear existing with in the same world. Driden was burning with rage, and his arms twitched, itching to swing their swords. The depth of emotions he felt now was on a whole other level compared to when he had been beaten up by the prison guards and the members of the garrison. Insults didn’t bother Driden, but this orc’s slap poured oil over his heart and set fire to it.

“I like the look in your eyes. Come take revenge on me after you kill your enemy,” challenged Crockta.

He grinned as he looked into Driden’s eyes, which looked fully alive at that moment. Then he dropped the document that he’d received from Ladet onto the ground so that Driden could see it.

“Decide on your own who your true enemy is,” said Crockta.

Driden’s gaze shifted to the document.

“You brat,” Crockta muttered.

Then he slapped the back of Driden’s head again and immediately ran away. He could feel a frightening glare pierce the back of his head.

“You evil... ugly orc punk!” yelled Driden.

It was Crockta’s first time hearing notes of emotion in Driden’s words. Insults like evil punk and ugly punk rang loudly through the prison.

Crockta quickly exited the detention center in the basement while muttering, “What a nasty temper.”

As soon as Crockta was out, the captain of the garrison handed him something.

“Take this,” he said.

“...?” Crockta tilted his head curiously as he accepted it.

“The mayor told me to give this to you after you met Driden.”

It was a permit to enter the Temple of the Fallen God. Ladet had instructed the captain to issue a permit regardless of the outcome. Ladet pretended to be a simple-minded warrior, but he was actually a crafty dark elf.

“Thank you. Tell Ladet we did the best we could,” replied Crockta.

“...By slapping his face and hitting the back of his head?”

“Let’s just say that’s how orcs do it.”

Crockta and his friends left the garrison building.

Finally, his next stop was the Temple of the Fallen God. He could finally go to the place he had been waiting to visit.

“What did the document that you gave to the dark elf say?” asked Tiyo.

Crockta shrugged. “It was about his father.”

“The elf named Julio?”

“Yeah, Ladet said he had to kill Julio because he went crazy. The document states the reason why Julio became a madman.”

Julio had suffered from a fatal injury and became a murderer as a side-effect. He could have remained close friends with Ladet if it hadn’t been for that injury, which was...

“The document said that Julio had been ambushed and injured by the chiefdom orcs,” explained Crockta.

“Hmm...” Tiyo nodded.

It was up to Driden whether his enemy would remain as Ladet, or whether he would change the direction of his blade and fight against the chiefdom orcs.

“Anyway, that dark elf called Driden...” Anor, who had been quiet up to this point, suddenly interrupted them with a serious expression.

“Why? Did you find out something?” asked Tiyo.

“He was a bit weird,” commented Anor.

“In what way?” Tiyo said, turning his attention to Anor.

“Isn’t he so bad at cussing? Hahahaha. He said ‘evil, ugly orc punk’ like a kid. Hahaha. Can’t believe that’s his idea of profanity. So funny.”

“...”

“If someone had hit my head like that, I wouldn’t have let him off the hook with such words. If it were me, I would have said ‘you fucking ba—!”

“Contain yourself,” Tiyo told Anor while blocking the latter’s mouth.

Anor struggled to express himself, but Crockta joined in as well and softly covered Anor’s mouth.

“Dog! Fu—! Sh—! Ba—!” Anor continued to make muffled sounds.

“Please control yourself...” muttered Tiyo.

“A kid is watching, Anor...” added Crockta.

A little dark elf kid passing by was startled by the scene and ran away.

Crockta shook his head in disapproval.

Anyway, they were finally making their way to the Temple of the Fallen God.

***

“Mayor, Driden finally gave in. We isolated Arden and his soldiers so that they can’t say a word,” announced Ladet’s aide.

Ladet nodded while stamping a document.

“Anyway... as expected of you, Mayor of Nameragon.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ladet.

“You managed to convince Driden.”

Ladet grinned. “Hmm...”

“I didn’t expect you to put the blame on the orcs. That idea never crossed my mind,” said the aide quietly as if sharing a secret. “Even though the truth is that it’s not the orcs’ fault that Julio became that way. Hahaha.”

“Be quiet.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

Ladet pushed the pile of documents toward his aide and said, “I’ve finished looking over this pile.”

“Yes, sir, I will tend to them immediately.”

The aide took the documents and strolled out of the office.

Ladet leaned back in his chair.

“I’m not sure if I did the right thing...” he murmured.

The truth was that Julio had received a mortal wound because of monsters, not orcs. Ladet had lied to use Driden to protect the dark elves in the upcoming war and to fight against the chiefdom.

Ladet bitterly muttered to himself, “I guess I’ve become a politician through and through now.”