Arthur had awoken twice from his recovery slumber, named the remaining ogres and freed all slaves, then fell asleep again.
Six days had passed since then.
He'd awoken on the seventh day, when the sun was shining over their heads. They had put him in a small bed, the mattress made of soft feathers as well as the pillow.
"My head hurts," he groaned with his childish voice, which seemed younger.
"Evaluation of the body... Full body recovery confirmed... Full magic recovery confirmed... Full stamina recovery confirmed... New lineage created... 389 ogres of your lineage evolved to arkogres..."
What lineage? How did the ogres become my lineage? I don't remember giving birth to them? He winced his face.
"Answer: when a monster receives a name, it is linked to the one who named him. Usually, the one who names a monster has magical abilities above the average people. It is no different than having offsprings, the only difference is that the monsters grow stronger when the one who name them keep on getting more powerful. To summarise, think of it as a surrogate family that has bad hygiene and no table manners... "
My, my, haven't grown bolder when I was asleep? Art smirked. One thing, before they had sworn loyalty to me, can they betray me of their own volition?
" The monsters that were named are not entitled to repay the kindness. They could betray, torture, or kill the one who named them if they wished to. No reckoning would follow. Whether they decide to follow you or kill you, is up to the monsters."
He'd noticed when the little voice in his head talked earlier, but now he knew for a fact that the voice had evolved as well. She sounded like his teen daughter whenever a question was asked to her. Suddenly he remembered something. "Hey, why did I fell in a slumber when I gave the ogres names?"
The voice answered right away, "In order to make somebody part of your lineage magic is the source. When you name a monster, the magic stored in your body leaves and enters the body of the monster named. For the magic signature is yours and yours only, a unique link is formed between the giver and the receiver. In other words, you fell asleep because you named all those arkogres at once and exhausted all your magic and energy."
Arthur took a deep breath and sighed deeply. He only now noticed that the surrounding of his bed was covered in flowers, no wonder why he smelt a sweet scent in the air when he'd opened his eyes. When still in the older world, Arthur had loved buying flowers from the best florist of the town and gifted them to his wife and daughter. But now the thought of them made him angry. He flushed red and swiftly rose from the bed.
I don't need them. They betrayed me. They betrayed my love and my trust.
Somehow, the little hut he'd slept in was broader and a lot stronger lacked from his recollection. Arthur made no sudden gesture and shifted his bare feet to the door made of dry brown leather. Sunlight streamed through the holes and gaps and bathed his face in a colony of fire spots.
He pushed the leather aside and stepped out, the sun in his eyes. He moved a hand over his brow, shielding his eyes from the violent rays of the star of the morning.
What time is it? It looks past midday. I'm hungry.
"Master," said a familiar female voice. He turned to his right to find a woman who wasn't exactly in the category of an ogre. Though she did say that the ogres evolved to arkogres.
Arthur scanned her face for a few instances, her body, and clothes to boot. "...Aella...?" he wasn't sure. She looked more... humane...
She went to one knee, her silver armour shining under the sun. "Yes, Master. I'm happy to see that your recovery was a success. Shall we bring you something to eat?"
"Yes, yes," he answered immediately. "I'm hungry." Why do I keep thinking about a hamburger whenever food is involved? Oily food isn't good for this perfect body. And I was a doctor for God's sake! I should know better. Maybe some green will do me good.
Aella had become more feminine with fewer muscles, if none at all. Her golden eyes were brighter, almost yellow. Her fangs had shrunk down to almost nothing. She looks hot, Arthur thought.
After looking down, she slid a pair of white fleece around his bare feet. She had seen that Art had bruises on his feet due to the hard soul and walking bare feet on the ground. Then the children came running, they looked like normal human children - no, elves! They looked like elves with their pointy ears. Then the adults swooped by.
They congratulated him, thanked him, kissed his hands and feet... "Master!" they kept calling him. Art didn't like the sound of it. They made him sound presumptuous and arrogant... Traits and values he hoped to never acquire.
Arthur remembered some of the faces and the names, though they had become somewhat slimmer and humanoid. There was Shika, the little girl with a blue eye and a golden one. The tallest one was Arbre, the shortest one was Bois. There was Orca, who had built some muscles and it would appear that the starving ones, those who had only skin over their bones had finally gained weight and fat. That rejoiced him and smiled along with them, until Aella called Art inside to talk about something serious.
Before going inside, he caught a glimpse of the village in construction. The huts had turned to wooden houses of two to four bedrooms... Five dozens houses were already built and the wall that had risen that day was upgraded. Guards were patrolling in their armours with spears and swords, children playing on the yards, the ogres working the wood and iron... The females were making a paste, or food, Art couldn't tell. But everybody seemed on edge and Aros and his children weren't to be seen... His stomach clenched. It was Aros who swore loyalty first, that old chief. Maybe he betrayed and left or he might have been killed.
He sat on his bed, many-hued flowers about him. He crossed his arms and asked, "what is it? I can't see Aros?"
Aella stood straight, as if she had received military training and was now being interrogated. "Four days ago, an ogre led a mutiny amongst our ranks and refused the new set of rules that you've established. About twenty other ogres followed him and started taking it out on the weakest among us and there was also talk of..." She hesitated, whether by fear or shame, Arthur didn't care either way.
"Aella, I'm hungry so speak quickly."
She bowed her head. "He said that ogres would never follow a child, let alone a human child. He then tried to murder Master in his sleep, that's when the one you named Aros stepped in and drew his sword. He cut off one arm before they could flee in the forest."
"What was his name? The one who tried to kill me." He was warned that monsters owed nothing to anyone. Whether they follow the one who named them or not was a choice, not an obligation.
"He was the one you named 'Perro'."
Oh! I think I vaguely remember him. He was the last one to kneel and I saw defiance in his eyes when I was naming him. That's why I called him 'Dog'. (in Spanish)
"So I'm alive today because a frail old man saved me? That Perro must have shrunk otherwise he would have killed Aros." Arthur mocked the old ogre and Perro.
Aella smiled. "The old ogre isn't just anyone. I didn't recognise him due to old age and of his size, but Aros is one of the twelve Ogre Warlord of the Bronze Era of monsters. I should say was now. He'd been defeated in single combat and his adversary humiliated him by letting him breathe and live. I believe that losing his posing took a toll on him and he was reduced to the old ogre you first met."
Arthur clicked his tongue then licked a red lip. "So Aros must have gone after Perro, I presumed. And he took his sons for them to get some experience and to blood them."
"The oldest, yes, but the youngest is by the river I believe. The children are helping with fishing for the meal of this night. When the moon is full and red, we shall feast and we shall sleep. The red moon gives monsters better abilities. It strengthens our metabolism and magical power. The cycle of the red moon is every six months."
That is something quite interesting. Though his eyes were somewhere else. "One last thing Aella, how did your boobs get this big?" he obviously was teasing her, yet curiosity was eating him from within.
The ogre flushed red like a tomato. She undid the clasps of her fleece and let it fall. Then she undid the fastenings of her breastplate and it reached the ground sooner. At last, she took off her shirt and fondled her bare breasts. "It's... your fault Master!" she said with a feverish look.
Arthur turned red as well. "What are you doing?" So she is the type that acts all tough in front of other people and in private she is a horny little pervert with big juicy boobs!
Aella threw some steps ahead before hearing the bells outside. She immediately put her shirt on and went out. Curious like a child, Arthur followed her out.
The crowd let in a muscular ogre, in his late fifties with long grey hair in an armour. About ten mounted ogres shadowed his movements. The old ogre hopped off his horse and knelt in front of him. His companions did the same. "Master, we are happy to see that you've fully recovered."
That voice? "A...ros...?" Arthur was confused. It wasn't the old ogre that he was before. Aros had grown a long grey hair which he kept untied, his muscles had popped out all over his body, yet he looked elderly and wise. His golden, warm eyes were the same. The one kneeling closer to him must have been the oldest son, Art surmised.
"Yes, Master," Aros answered. "I had brought the spears and swords to hunt down the turncloaks." He beckoned at his son.
Ros took out an ugly head from his sack and laid it at his feet. Arthur bent over and took the head with his bare hands. It had been cut with one, clean swift and dark red blood were still oozing from an artery. "What a pity," Arthur said after studying the head and bruised face which an exquisite expression had been immortalised on.
He gave it to Aella, "Burn it, bury it, we have no more use for the it."
Arthur ran a hand on Aros's cheek. His fangs were longer than all the other ogres, and he looked stronger than the rest as well. "You did not fail me, Aros. Good job."
"Thank you, Master. It was my pleasure."
"Good job all of you," Arthur yelled.
After, Aros stayed with Arthur as he ate some grilled fish and charred deer meat. Yet, he yearned for more fat and oily food.
Aros had told him that around sixty years ago he was a warlord to the King of Ogres, Baldur. A great war was hatched between the kingdom of Aestania, the ogre clans, Falcoth and the Goblins. Whilst two were human nations, Falcoth and Aestania banded together and pushed back the goblins and ogres into the territory of Mediumus which was where Arthur was. That was where Aros was defeated and his position as a warlord was challenged not long after. "I was was exhausted and had grown old. The fighter in front of me was a young killer, trained since birth in the art of swordsmanship and death... I lost..."
The goblins were on the other side of the mountain range, but some stray ones could find their way in this part of the region as well. Humans had to pass through the forest to reach the west or the south if they came from up north. Merchants, knights, Kings and Queens, children and babes, civilians and aristocrats, they all must pass through the heart of Mediumus if they wanted to reach the other sides.
Some had advanced technological machines that could even fly, Aros told him. Though in the other world, Arthur occasionally traveled by plane and ship, seldom train to boot. He sighed.
They stayed in the little house until the moon rose up, Arthur was still feeling a bit numb and tired. He stepped out to watch the red moon, glowing in the dark sky with thousands of stars to praise its shyness.
A large bonfire had taken origin in the middle of the village, its flame gleaming red, now orange, now yellow, clawing at the dark, clawing at the moon. The ogres had cooked fish and meat, vegetables and grains, fruits and other kinds of delicacies. The former slaves were there as well. They were laughing and playing with their former captors and masters like they were never slaves to begin with.
The children played away from the fire, the females tended to the food, the males were drinking red wine and ale. They gave Arthur a bowl of meat and vegetables and asked him to rate it. They all exclaimed and jumped in joy when Arthur announced that it was the best food he'd ever eaten. An obvious, a white lie. What harm could it do? He asked himself.
"Lying tends to become a habit. When the lie is unraveled, trust is never the same. It's like the boy who cried 'wolf'..."
Oh please, it has nothing to do with trust... Maybe a little, he chuckled.
The moon was blood red that night, Arthur didn't like how it looked. The feeling he got from it wasn’t the best he’d experienced before but wasn't the worst either...
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