CH500 Silver Tongue

***

'Damn you, Brieger. You stupid donkey-headed fool.' The Orc leader cursed inwardly.

Alex was right.

By the standards of the Wildlands, Alex had been not only justified—but restrained. Greater battles had been started over slights far smaller than any one of those offences.

This was the Wildlands, where chaos was the natural order.

And yet…

As a squad leader of Camp Red Rock's Guard militia, he could not simply overlook what had happened. Doing so would undermine the Guard's authority and set a dangerous precedent.

Chief Azgrug worked hard to maintain this fragile peace,' the Orc thought grimly. 'If this precedent stands, the chaos we barely hold back will return.'

He felt trapped—caught between a rock and a hard place.

The dilemma weighed heavily on him.

Alex noticed the squad leader's dilemma, but he said nothing.

'Fight or flight,' Alex thought coolly. 'Which will you choose, Orc?'

A sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

"What is going on here, Hargul? What caused this ruckus?"

Just as the weight of the situation threatened to crush the squad leader's spine, a voice rang out—one that made his expression brighten as though salvation itself had arrived.

Alex turned toward the source of the voice, his smile widening slightly.

"Shaman," he greeted calmly. "You're here."

"Oh? Young Master Alex?" The Shaman froze in surprise.

The casual familiarity in the Shaman's tone caused Hargul to swallow the complaints he had been about to unleash.

'Who exactly is this human…?' he wondered grimly.

"Young Master Alex, did you attack Brieger?" the Shaman asked hurriedly. "Even if you are a sorcerer, that was far too rash. I told you we would—"

His words died mid-sentence as his eyes fell upon Brieger's corpse.

To say he was stunned would have been an understatement.

'Brieger is dead?' the Shaman thought in disbelief. 'Even if his estate was destroyed, Brieger is still a Gold-rank warrior with Troll heritage. He should have been able to retreat—even if he couldn't win.'

The look he gave Alex grew complex.

This noble—one so familiar with Orcish customs—continued to surprise him at every turn.

"This isn't what you promised me, Shaman," Alex said suddenly, his tone cold and measured. "I would prefer not to believe this is how your tribe treats its guests."

"Is this what you meant when you said your tribe would give me a satisfactory response?" he continued. "By having your Guard militia insult me… and then attempt to arrest me?"

Only then did the Shaman fully take in the tense standoff between the Guard militia squad and Alex's expedition party.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

Hargul hesitated, unsure how to respond.

Alex did not give him the chance.

"When the Guard militia arrived, I attempted to explain that my party and I were the victims here—that we were merely seeking proper recompense," Alex said calmly. "Yet your squad leader—Hargul, was it?—insisted on arresting us instead."

He looked directly at the Shaman, crimson eyes unwavering.

"So I will ask again," Alex said gravely.

"Is this how your tribe treats its guests… and delivers a satisfactory response?"

The Shaman frowned.

He turned sharply toward the Guard squad and fired off,

"What arrest do you think you're making? Did you investigate properly? Is this how you were taught to act? Are you trying to disgrace the tribe?"

His voice grew harsher with every word.

"Do you not know that Young Master Alex is a guest of our tribe? You didn't, did you? Did you listen? Did you try to confirm anything?"

The Shaman's gaze turned cold.

"If you had, you would have known that Young Master Alex received permission from me to deal with Brieger for his repugnant behaviour!"

The Guard militia froze.

Even Alex and his expedition party were momentarily stunned.

'Why didn't you tell us that?' The Guards wanted to glare at Alex—but wisely restrained themselves.

Meanwhile—

'When did Alex/the commander/the boss get permission from the Shaman?' The expedition party members exchanged confused looks.

Alex, however, simply gazed deeply at the Shaman.

'Well played,' he mused inwardly. 'What a wily orc you are.'

A chuckle almost escaped his lips.

By now, the commotion had drawn attention. A small group of onlookers had returned, hiding at a distance as they observed the unfolding scene.

With just a few words, the Shaman had not only absolved Alex, but also preserved the Copper-skinned Orc tribe's reputation.

After all, if the Shaman himself had granted prior permission, then this was neither a breakdown of order—nor a case of a sorcerer throwing his weight around.

One stone, multiple birds.

The Shaman stepped closer to the Guard squad and whispered something to them before dismissing them with a wave.

The Guards did not linger. They scurried away at once.

Turning back to Alex, the Shaman bowed deeply.

"I apologise, Young Master Alex. I hope you can understand why the Guard militia acted so... forcefully," he said. "These are the Wildlands, after all. The little order we maintain is precious."

He paused, then added smoothly,

"Rest assured, I will ensure they are punished severely for their mistake. This will not happen again."

'Punish them, my ass,' Alex thought dryly. 'I'd be a fool to believe that.'

Outwardly, however, he smiled.

"As expected of an honourable Orc tribe," Alex replied warmly. "I am already satisfied with the response you've given me. As you said, these are the Wildlands."

"I understand the Guard militia was simply doing their duty—albeit a little zealously. There is no need for punishment. They are doing divine work in these cursed lands."

"Oh, how magnanimous you are, Young Master Alex," the Shaman said, flattering him shamelessly. "I will ensure the squad is made aware of your mercy—and that they learn from it."

Alex and the Shaman continued exchanging shameless pleasantries. If one didn't know better, they might have thought the two had been friends for years.

"Is it just me," Kavakan muttered, "or do both of them have fox tails sticking out of their backs?"

"It's not just you," Zora rolled her eyes. "Those two are an old fox and a young fox."

The nearby party members chuckled quietly.

Eventually, the contest of shameless flattery finally came to an end. Beads of sweat trickled down both the human's and the orc's temples.

It turned out that taking turns piling praise upon each other—while trying to outdo the other—was far more exhausting than it looked.

"I won't keep you any longer," the Shaman said at last, retreating with dignity. "I shall take my leave."

"Ah, yes. I should also return to my party," Alex replied, more than happy to step away himself.

Before leaving, the Shaman paused and added,

"Our Tribe Chief will be returning later tonight. If you are planning on doing business in the camp, you won't find a better partner than our Chief."

Alex let out a quiet sigh of relief.

All that sophistry—words he didn't even know he knew nor could say with a straight face—had not gone to waste.

"Thank you for your kind offer. I will gladly oblige," Alex said, bowing slightly in gratitude.

"Excellent. I will send for you once the Chief has returned and rested." The shaman reciprocated with a bow of his own.

With that, the Shaman took his leave, leaving Alex and his expedition party behind.

Zora stepped closer and handed Alex a handkerchief. He took it gratefully and wiped the sweat from his face.

Facing off against the Shaman had turned out to be far more draining than attacking Brieger's base.

As Alex wiped his brow, Zora looked at him teasingly.

"You know," she said, "I'm starting to think your title should be changed."

Alex glanced at her.

"Instead of Silver Fang, it might be more fitting to call you Silver Tongue."

For a brief moment, Alex's mind went completely blank.

Then—

Thwack!

Alex spanked her decidedly meaty backside.

"That's what you get for insulting your husband!" he fumed theatrically while making sure to fully enjoy the meaty ripple on his hand.

Zora didn't mind in the slightest. Instead, she burst into peals of laughter as she 'ran' away.

***

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