Chương 97: Chapter 96

Malvokar the Slaver Rel decided that, seeing as the newest member of our party couldn't fly, we'd make the remainder of the journey on foot. Well, Winterclaw and I were on foot while Rel relaxed atop the wolf's massive head. He lay on his back with his paws tucked behind his head, looking like a pampered noble enjoying a leisurely ride in a palanquin rather than someone being carried across a frost plain by a wolf travelling at well over a hundred miles an hour.

It was a lot slower than travelling through the air, but honestly... a squirrel riding a wolf? You couldn't put a price on experiences like that. As we ran, I decided to have a look through the animal companion interface. Alongside the abilities Winterclaw possessed thanks to his species and evolution, there were also two generic abilities available to anyone with an animal companion.

Resize Companion Animal companions come in all shapes and sizes and, while we think it is important to celebrate these wonderful differences, there may be occasions where their current size is less than ideal. Activating this ability causes your animal companion to adopt whatever size (within reason) you consider most suitable for their surroundings. Changing your companion's size may decrease their combat effectiveness. Cooldown: 5 minutes This one made a lot of sense.

Winterclaw was a big boy, and I tried to imagine walking him through the streets of Oakreach. Best-case scenario? Lots of stares and people grumbling that he was taking up the entire road. Worst-case scenario? Panic, screaming children, and the guards charging in to defend the town from a monster attack. Summon/Dismiss Companion There will inevitably be situations where having your animal companion at your side is less than practical. Activating this ability dismisses your companion to their home realm.

Activating it again summons them back to your side. Cooldown: 1 hour This one was also incredibly useful. Winterclaw was undoubtedly a powerful creature, but some of the things Rel and I were planning to take on were absolutely monstrous. At least with this ability, we could send him somewhere safe if we thought he was in real danger. In many ways, it was like having a Poké Ball. Hang on a second... I had an animal companion that I could summon and dismiss.

He could be trained, gain experience, learn new abilities, and evolve... I was basically a Pokémon Trainer! Right, it was time to test out Resize Companion. I figured that, whenever we were in a built-up area like a village, town, or city, it'd make sense for Winterclaw to be about the same size as a wolf back on Earth. I hadn't seen any dogs since arriving in the Trial Zone, but there were so many weird creatures wandering around that I doubted something the size of a normal wolf would attract much attention.

I glanced at Rel and saw that he'd dozed off. I briefly considered waking him up and warning him about what I was about to do... I did not. It'd be much funnier this way. Most system abilities seemed to be activated by thought, so, after getting Winterclaw to come to a stop, I pictured him as a normal-sized wolf from Earth and triggered Resize Companion.

Winterclaw started to glow blue, softly at first, but within moments he was shining so brightly that he looked like a creature of pure arcane energy rather than one of flesh, blood, and bone. The sudden intensity of the light tore Rel from his little nap, and he jerked upright. His eyes flew open, but he was immediately forced to squint because of how bright the light was.

"What's going on–" he began, but his words were cut short when his seat suddenly gave way beneath him. I had to give credit where it was due: the little guy had some impressive reflexes. Before he came anywhere close to hitting the ground, he activated Flight and drifted back into the air. He slowly turned those blazing blue eyes on me, the lightning crackling around his body a little more enthusiastically than usual.

Fortunately, like me, he was far too interested in Winterclaw's transformation to exact any magic-fuelled revenge. Winterclaw rapidly shrank, the blue glow maintaining its wolf-like proportions as it scaled down until he resembled a very large dog. Then the light began to fade, revealing him in all his shrunken glory. Other than his size, he looked exactly the same.

His grey fur still held its flecks of icy blue, his dark eyes still blazed with their usual intelligence, and his mouth still hung open in that perpetually excited grin.

"Explain," said Rel. He still didn't look particularly happy, but it appeared that his professional curiosity had won out. I gave him a brief summary of the animal companion system, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"That all sounds perfectly sensible..." he said.

"Now, let's discuss how you woke me up." I raised my hands.

"Hang on a second. Do I really need to remind you about the rumour-spreading incident back in Stonehaven? You know, the one about me apparently being the bumbling manservant of a great and powerful archmagus? I'd say this makes us even." He glared at me for a few more moments, then snorted.

"Fair enough," he said.

"Not that I'm admitting to having anything to do with that, of course."

"Of course." * Around ten minutes after resuming our journey, a world quest popped up. We came to a stop to read the description. Malvokar the Slaver Malvokar, a fel orc slaver feared across the continent and notorious for trading in 'exotic' slaves, has arrived on the Great Frost Plains. Believing the blue-skinned frost orcs will fetch a premium due to the novelty of their appearance, he intends to raid their villages. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

He has just reached the village of Grondheim and is currently crushing the local resistance while rounding up captives. If you act quickly, you may be able to stop him before too many innocent lives are destroyed. Grondheim is located eighty miles south of your current location. Travel to Grondheim, slay Malvokar and his warriors, and free the captives. Quest Rewards:??? Crushing the local resistance… Rounding up captives… Fuck that. Eighty miles?

If we continued travelling on foot at our current speed, it'd likely take us half an hour to get there. By then, it could be too late. No. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I activated Flight and rose a few feet into the air, my body parallel to the ground. Reaching around, I patted myself on the back and grinned at Winterclaw.

"Come on, boy," I said.

"You carried Rel around for ages earlier. Let me return the favour." He stared at me for a moment, his head tilted, then let out an excited yip and leapt through the air, landing on my back. He shuffled into position, lying flat on his stomach with his front paws hooked over my shoulders. Fortunately, he was still in his smaller form. Otherwise, it might have ended up being a rather awkward flight.

"As soon as we land," I said.

"I'm going to turn you back into big Winterclaw, okay?" Winterclaw howled his approval. * Malvokar stood in the centre of the village, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched his warriors work. They moved from longhouse to longhouse, dragging out any villagers foolish enough to think they could hide. A few dozen had already been captured. Their wrists and ankles had been shackled before they were forced to their knees. A heavy chain ran from one captive to the next, binding them all together.

Small runes were engraved into the metal to reinforce it, and Malvokar was confident that nobody living on the Great Frost Plains possessed the strength to break it. The village was too small to have any dedicated guards, but some of the men had taken up weapons in defence of their home. The evidence of their attempt was the eight mutilated bodies littering the ground. They were a grisly mess of gashes, punctures, shattered bones, and crushed limbs. One of the self-proclaimed defenders still lived. Just about.

He had been backed up against the wall of a longhouse, his thick oilskins stained almost black with blood from the dozens of wounds criss-crossing his body. One hand still clutched a butcher's cleaver, and he lashed out with a weak, desperate swing as one of Malvokar's fel orcs lunged forward with his scimitar raised. The warrior contemptuously batted the cleaver aside before carving yet another deep gash across the villager's arm. The villager took a deep, rasping breath, let out a strangled roar, and charged.

Or at least he tried to. He managed only a few steps before stumbling, the blood loss finally stealing the last of his strength. He sagged to his knees, and the fel orcs dove forward, their weapons blurring as they hacked him to pieces. Malvokar's lips curled into a savage smirk at the sight. He turned his attention back to the captives. There were at least forty now, and more were being added as his warriors rounded up the last of the villagers.

"Mama!" It was one of the manacled children. He was perhaps three years old, and no sooner had the word left his mouth than he began sobbing uncontrollably. Malvokar stared at him in disgust before following the direction of the boy's gaze. A woman had just been dragged from one of the longhouses. At the sound of the boy's voice, her wild, frantic eyes widened. She let out a piercing scream and struggled furiously against the warriors restraining her.

"It'll be okay, Hrok!" she cried.

"Everything will be okay!" One of the fel orcs holding her tightened his grip, his powerful fingers driving into her flesh. She gasped in pain, and her struggles ceased. Seeing his mother being hurt only made the boy sob harder, and Malvokar lashed out with the back of his armoured hand. There was a heavy thunk as it connected with the child's jaw. It rocked him sideways, a spray of blood splattering across the ice as his cheek split open.

He crumpled, but the chains held him upright, leaving him hanging limply with his head lolling against his chest. Malvokar hadn't killed him, of course. He'd used only enough force to silence the boy without causing any permanent damage. The little worm would be worthless if he was dead. The mother had fallen into stunned silence at the sudden violence, but after staring at the unmoving child for a few moments, reality seemed to come crashing back in.

"Hrok!" She screamed the words. A pained, throat-splitting scream. She turned her gaze on Malvokar, her eyes blazing.

"I'll kill you, you bastard!"

"I'm sure you will," he replied. He stepped towards her and gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his cold, empty eyes.

"You should take that anger you're feeling and hold it close. Let it sustain you. Let it make you strong. The life of a slave is not an easy one." She spat in his face. He snarled and shoved her away, sending her crashing to the ground. Some of the captives – those who did not yet understand their new place in the world – cheered her act of defiance.

"It would appear an example needs to be made," said Malvokar. He gestured for one of his warriors to haul her to her feet.

"Ten lashes should suffice." The warrior dragged her towards one of the carts. There was a large metal cage fixed to it, the narrow gaps between the bars revealing the terrified villagers who had already been packed tightly inside. He snatched a length of rope from his belt, then bound the woman to the cage, her chest pressed against the bars. Another warrior approached with a whip. He uncoiled it then carried out a few experimental lashes, the leather cutting through the air with a low, menacing whistle.

Malvokar did not bother to watch. It was a scene he had witnessed a hundred times before. Instead, he turned to oversee the last of the villagers being shackled. However, as he heard the crack of the whip followed by a wild scream, he couldn't help but smile. The captives watched in horror as their friend's back was torn to ribbons, and Malvokar knew he had them. The sight alone would keep them in line. The screaming and pleas for mercy faded into the background as he watched his men work.

He knelt to inspect the shackles, checking they had been fitted correctly. Wait... That scream was different. It wasn't high-pitched and shrill like the others. It was deeper, brimming with equal parts fury and fear. Malvokar turned... and his jaw sagged. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare dumbly at the scene unfolding before him. The fel orc who had been whipping the woman was being held in place by a man dressed as a farmer.

One of the man's arms was hooked around the warrior's neck, forcing him to bend forward at the waist. His trousers had been pulled down, and his bare, red ass was exposed. And that wasn't even the most bizarre part... Hovering in the air above him was a squirrel. A squirrel with blazing blue eyes and lightning arcing across his fur. A squirrel holding the whip the fel orc had been using to make an example of the woman.

The weapon looked absurdly oversized in the creature's tiny paws, yet he handled it with complete confidence and no small amount of demented pleasure. A dozen of Malvokar's warriors hesitated several metres away, forming an almost complete semi-circle with their weapons raised, but they were being kept at bay by an enormous wolf. The creature was crouched like a coiled spring ready to explode, its muzzle parted in a vicious snarl revealing terrifyingly large and sharp teeth.

A low, constant growl vibrated in its throat, making Malvokar's bladder feel uncomfortably loose. The squirrel's arm snapped up and then down. The whip cracked through the air before slicing deeply into the orc's bare backside. He howled in pain, a great spray of blood erupting from the wound.

"How do you like being the one on the receiving end, bitch?" said the farmer.

"Not such a big man now, are you?" With that, he jerked the arm hooked around the fel orc's neck sharply upwards, and there was a sickening crack as the warrior's neck snapped. Letting the fel orc's body drop the ground in a crumpled heap, the man turned to the wolf and nodded.

"Sic 'em, boy!" The wolf launched forward with terrifying speed. It tore through the air and bowled one of the warriors to the ground before he could so much as swing his sword. The beast landed on top of him, pinning him beneath a massive paw. Then it lowered its head, fangs bared, and closed its enormous jaws around the warrior's head. The beast bit down… and the head popped. Malvokar had seen enough. When it came down to it, he was running a business, and that would be rather difficult if he was dead.

"What are you standing around for, you snivelling cowards!" he roared.

"Attack!" The fel orcs took a few steps forward after hearing their leader's words, but then they faltered, their fear written plain across their faces.

"Fight, damn you! Ten thousand gold to the warrior who brings me their heads!" As he'd known it would, the offer drove the fel orcs forward, their greed overcoming their fear. The wolf tore into them. The squirrel's paws snapped out, lightning erupting from them and crashing into the warriors. Wherever it struck, bodies exploded. Perfect. Malvokar could use the confusion to slip away. He checked that no one was looking in his direction, then took a few discreet steps backwards. Wait… where had the man gone?

"Where do you think you're going, motherfucker?" The voice was cold and unyielding, and Malvokar felt his throat tighten as he reluctantly turned to face the man who had spoken. Despite having to look down to meet the farmer's cold, hazel eyes, Malvokar knew with absolute certainty that he was going to die.

"I can pay you!" he said, his voice high-pitched and desperate.

"I am one of the richest men in Khurian. Spare me and I'll give you everything. My gold. My houses. My slaves." Malvokar dropped to his knees and reached out to clutch at the man's shirt.

"I beg you," he continued, his voice breaking.

"I have a family!" The man regarded him for a moment, then shrugged.

"And how many families have you torn apart over the years?" He hauled Malvokar to his feet, but when the fel orc tried to speak, to plead once more, all that escaped his mouth was a gurgle and gush of blood. It ran down his chin, and his now-blurry gaze followed it as it splashed onto his armour... and the man's arm, buried to the wrist in Malvokar's chest.

"Oh..." rasped Malvokar, his head sagging forward.