Chương 111: Chapter 112: The Orc King Was Apparently Everyone’s Problem

On the sixth morning of his temporary employment, Sieghart arrived at Vessa and Orin's workshop expecting another day of charging weapons, studying runic circuits, and pretending that his mana reserves possessed anything resembling a reasonable limit. Instead, he stepped into the warehouse and stopped almost immediately. The shelves he had spent several days organizing were practically empty, including the sections that had contained dozens of fully charged weapons when he left the previous evening.

Sieghart slowly looked around the warehouse, checking whether someone had simply moved everything somewhere else. Only a handful of swords, several enchanted tools, and two boxes of miscellaneous equipment remained where considerably larger piles had been stored yesterday. Orin entered from the workshop carrying a box of prepared metal components, and Sieghart pointed toward the empty shelves before the man could say anything about whatever work they needed to finish that morning.

"Did you explode all of them while I was sleeping?" Orin stopped.

"Why does everyone keep insisting we explode things?" Sieghart looked toward the scorch marks still decorating part of the ceiling near the front workshop. Even after several days of cleaning and repairs, the building continued providing unusually strong evidence against Orin's complaint.

"I wonder."

"We had one accident."

"One noticeable accident." Sieghart decided that distinction somehow made Orin's defense worse. Fortunately, the missing equipment apparently had a considerably less destructive explanation, because Orin continued toward the worktables rather than reaching for a fire extinguisher.

"The frontline command bought most of it." Sieghart raised an eyebrow.

"All of it?"

"Almost." That was surprising. Some of the equipment had been intended for the frontlines from the beginning, but plenty belonged to the shop itself, including rental weapons and merchandise that Vessa and Orin had expected to sell gradually over several weeks. Orin placed the box onto a workbench before beginning to separate several components by size.

His expression remained relatively calm, yet his movements were faster than usual, suggesting the sudden sale had created considerably more work than he wanted to admit.

"The front is consuming equipment faster than expected. Repairs, replacements, enchanted ammunition, defensive tools. Everything useful is moving north almost as soon as someone finishes making it." Sieghart leaned against one of the shelves while considering that information. The town had looked peaceful when he arrived, but the constant movement of supplies had already made it obvious that the battlefield farther north was anything but quiet.

"What changed?" Orin hesitated.

"The Orc King is causing trouble." That immediately caught Sieghart's attention. He had heard occasional references to orcs during the trip, particularly from merchants discussing which roads remained safe, but nobody had mentioned that an Orc King was personally involved in the current fighting.

"The Orc King?" Orin nodded. Sieghart had encountered orcs before, although those had been ordinary raiders operating far from any organized army. An actual king implied something considerably larger, especially if human commanders were suddenly purchasing nearly every enchanted weapon available.

"Is he fighting personally?" Orin glanced toward him.

"Of course." The answer came quickly enough that Sieghart suspected he had asked something obvious from the perspective of anyone familiar with orc society. Unfortunately, his knowledge of their political structure remained considerably weaker than his knowledge of how to kill individual members.

"Why 'of course'?" Orin opened his mouth, but Vessa answered from the doorway before he could explain. She had apparently overheard enough of the conversation while carrying several freshly repaired sword handles into the warehouse.

"Orc kings don't stay kings by sitting somewhere safe." Sieghart turned toward her. Vessa placed the handles beside Orin before continuing, her tone suggesting she was repeating something generally known throughout the northern territories rather than explaining an unusual exception.

"Strength is authority to them. An Orc King keeps the tribes obedient because everyone believes he's the strongest one worth following. If he stops proving it, somebody challenges him." Sieghart understood immediately.

"So he has to fight."

"Regularly." That made a certain amount of brutal sense. A ruler whose authority depended primarily upon personal strength could hardly remain behind several lines of soldiers while demanding everyone else risk their lives. Vessa crossed her arms while looking toward the nearly empty shelves, and the slight tightening around her eyes suggested the situation bothered her more than she wanted to show.

"When there's a major war, the king fights near the front. Sometimes directly at the front. The others follow because they can see exactly why he's the one giving orders." Sieghart considered what that meant for the human defenders. If the Orc King was powerful enough to control several tribes personally, then every time he entered combat he probably transformed an ordinary engagement into something requiring elite fighters to contain him.

"This one is strong?" Orin gave him a strange look.

"They're all strong."

"You know what I mean." Vessa sighed.

"Yes. This one looks particularly dangerous." That answer immediately made Sieghart more interested, especially since the sudden demand for enchanted equipment suggested the Orc King had already demonstrated enough strength to concern commanders stationed along the northern defenses.

"What makes him different?" Vessa and Orin looked at each other. Sieghart recognized that reaction immediately. It was the same look adults used whenever they silently decided whether a subject was appropriate to discuss around someone younger, usually followed by an answer so vague that asking the original question became pointless. Orin adjusted his glasses.

"You don't need to worry about that." There it was. Sieghart sighed. He had killed Firians, fought bandits, helped destroy an unfinished undead guardian, unlocked Necromancy by making one catastrophically questionable decision, and spent several years preparing to hunt whoever murdered his grandparents. Apparently, none of those things prevented people from remembering that his body was ten years old whenever conversations became interesting.

"I'm not worried."

"Very good."

"That wasn't an agreement." Vessa smiled slightly.

"We noticed." Sieghart considered pressing the issue. He could probably obtain more information simply by asking soldiers or reading whatever reports reached the town, assuming the details were not intentionally restricted for military reasons. He ultimately decided against it. If Vessa and Orin refused because the information involved something unpleasant, insisting would only make him look strangely interested in a battlefield Mira had explicitly forbidden him from approaching.

"Fine." Orin looked mildly surprised.

"You're giving up?"

"For now." Sieghart left them with that answer and returned to charging the remaining equipment. Whatever made the Orc King unusually dangerous could become another problem for his increasingly unreasonable research list once he returned to Lunar Arc. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

The following day was supposed to be Sieghart's final one at the workshop, and Vessa apparently decided that sending him away without the ability to continue practicing runic engineering would waste everything he had learned. Instead of giving him another lamp or canteen to engrave, she placed several small components on a table beside a complete diagram showing something Sieghart recognized almost immediately.

"A runic engraver?"

"Your runic engraver." Sieghart looked at her.

"You're giving me one?"

"No." His excitement disappeared.

"You're making one." That was considerably better. The construction proved more complicated than any of the simple magical tools Sieghart had created previously. The engraver required a stable mana channel, a focusing crystal, adjustable output rings, and an extremely fine tip capable of guiding energy without cracking under sustained use. Vessa made Sieghart assemble almost everything himself while correcting mistakes before they became permanent.

Orin occasionally interrupted from the opposite table whenever Sieghart aligned something inefficiently, although Vessa usually told him to stop confusing the beginner with alternatives. Several hours later, Sieghart held a functional runic engraver of his own. It lacked several advanced adjustments available on the professional tools, but it could carve simple runes and circuits well enough for him to continue practicing after returning home.

Sieghart rotated the metal stylus between his fingers while imagining everything he might eventually create. The possibilities extended considerably farther than lamps, heated clothing, enchanted canteens, or even weapons. Armor immediately came to mind. Not ordinary armor. Something much better.

"One day, I'm making an Iron Man suit." Vessa looked over.

"A what?"

"Nothing." Sieghart smiled slightly while examining the engraver again. For someone who possessed no Aura, constructing equipment capable of compensating for his physical limitations seemed increasingly necessary rather than merely entertaining. His Strength, Dexterity, Endurance, and other physical parameters continued increasing through levels and spells, but their growth remained far slower than his Magic or Mentality. Powerful Aura users would probably maintain enormous physical advantages for years.

Armor could change that. Runic reinforcement could increase strength. Protective circuits could compensate for durability. Stored spells could provide movement. Telekinesis might eventually control additional components. Infinite Mana could power everything. The more Sieghart thought about the idea, the less ridiculous it became. He probably lacked ninety-nine percent of the knowledge required to build something remotely comparable, but at least he finally possessed somewhere to begin.

His thoughts were interrupted when Vessa dropped another partially prepared sword beside him. Several runic lines were already marked along the internal frame, although no actual engraving had begun.

"Done admiring your new toy?"

"For now."

"Good. We need hands." The demand for equipment had not slowed after yesterday's sale. By late morning, Vessa and Orin had already exhausted enough mana engraving and repairing weapons that their movements became noticeably slower. Normally, they would have taken breaks and recovered through meditation before resuming. Unfortunately, several buyers were expected around noon, including military suppliers hoping to purchase whatever could be finished before another shipment departed north.

Sieghart suddenly became much more useful. Unlike charging weapons, runic engraving demanded very little mana compared with his reserves. His hands also remained steady enough to reproduce simple circuits after Vessa prepared the layouts for him. He spent the next several hours engraving basic formations while the two professionals handled the complicated work. Vessa inspected everything afterward, but she rarely needed to correct more than small imperfections. Most of the weapons shared one particular theme.

Poison. Sieghart noticed it after the fourth sword received a toxin-activation circuit, and by the tenth weapon the pattern had become too obvious to ignore.

"Why does everything poison people now?" Orin did not look up.

"Because people like winning."

"That didn't answer anything." Vessa continued drawing a circuit plan across a metal plate while answering from her own workbench, apparently too busy to join Sieghart's argument with Orin.

"Orcs handle physical and magical damage well. Poison works better." Sieghart glanced toward the weapons again. That explained the demand. Several swords used runes that coated their edges with stored alchemical compounds whenever activated, while crossbow bolts carried similar effects designed to release toxins only after penetration. Other weapons used magic directly, generating poisonous energy rather than relying upon physical chemicals.

Those circuits were more complicated, which meant Sieghart was not allowed anywhere near them beyond charging completed storage crystals. Apparently, poison was currently fashionable. Sieghart found that mildly amusing in a grim sort of way. Somewhere on the battlefield, soldiers had probably discovered that ordinary weapons failed too often against orcs, and the entire supply network responded by producing whatever killed them more efficiently.

The situation also suggested that the Orc King might possess similar weaknesses, although Sieghart doubted anyone capable of ruling multiple tribes would remain vulnerable to something as simple as common poison. By noon, customers started arriving almost continuously. Military quartermasters purchased completed weapons in groups, mercenaries searched for anything capable of improving their chances farther north, and several local guards arrived seeking replacement equipment.

Sieghart remained mostly in the rear workshop because revealing how much work a disguised ten-year-old had completed seemed unnecessary. Even so, Vessa and Orin repeatedly sent new pieces toward him whenever their own mana reserves became insufficient. By late afternoon, Sieghart had engraved more equipment than he expected to touch during the entire week. His fingers hurt slightly from gripping the stylus, but the repeated practice had improved his control considerably.

He could finally understand why apprentices spent years performing basic work. Reading diagrams provided knowledge, while carving the same structures repeatedly taught tiny adjustments that books could never describe properly. How much pressure to use. When to slow down. How materials responded to heat. How mana changed resistance beneath the engraver. Those details accumulated quietly.

When the final customers left and the workshop finally became peaceful again, Sieghart expected Vessa and Orin to collapse into their chairs and refuse to speak until the following morning. Instead, they cornered him. Not literally. Mostly. Vessa placed both hands on the counter while Orin stood beside her, and Sieghart immediately became suspicious because both were looking at him with expressions far too serious for the end of an exhausting workday.

"What?" Vessa spoke first.

"Stay." Sieghart blinked.

"I've been standing here all day."

"No. Stay here." That was different. Orin adjusted his glasses.

"As an apprentice." Sieghart stared at both of them. The offer was not completely surprising after how much work he had handled, but he had not expected them to make it seriously after only one week.

"You want me as an apprentice?"

"You learn quickly."

"You don't complain much." Sieghart looked at Vessa.

"I complain constantly."

"About explosions." Orin nodded thoughtfully.

"He has a point." Vessa ignored him.

"You've already learned more than some beginners manage in several months. Your mana control is excellent, your hands are steady, and you apparently enjoy doing this." Sieghart could not deny any of that. He did enjoy runic engineering. More than expected. That did not mean staying was possible.

"I have to return to Lunar Arc." Vessa tilted her head.

"You said you weren't a member."

"I'm not." Sieghart had no desire to explain his relationship with Mira, Ronan, his family, the false wanted poster, or why remaining hidden beneath Lunar Arc had become convenient.

"They're expecting me back." Orin looked disappointed.

"You could come back afterward."

"Maybe." Vessa immediately seized upon that answer.

"So you'll apprentice here?"

"I said maybe I'll come back."

"That's close enough."

"No." They argued for several minutes. Vessa offered workshop access. Orin offered more advanced books. Vessa mentioned paid work. Orin mentioned access to experimental equipment, which Sieghart admitted was considerably more tempting than anything else. Sieghart still refused. He had too many things waiting at Lunar Arc, and becoming a proper apprentice would require years rather than occasional visits. He wanted runic engineering as another tool, not an entirely new life consuming every available day.

Still, he had learned far more from Vessa and Orin than expected.

"I can help sometimes." Vessa paused.

"When?"

"When I'm nearby." Sieghart looked between the two craftsmen before continuing. They had given him books, materials, instruction, and eventually taught him enough to create his own engraver without demanding additional payment.

"I learned a lot here. If you need help and I'm available, I don't mind returning the favor." Orin smiled. Vessa remained unconvinced.

"We could teach you more if you stayed."

"I know."

"You could build real weapons."

"You could eventually help with prototypes." Sieghart looked toward the ceiling.

"No." Orin started laughing again. Vessa spent several more minutes attempting to change Sieghart's mind before finally accepting that he was not going to abandon everything else and become their permanent apprentice. Eventually, they gave up. Mostly. Sieghart suspected Vessa intended to ask again the next time he visited. That evening, he packed his belongings, stored the newly constructed runic engraver carefully inside his bag, and prepared to leave town the following morning with the next southbound wagon.

For once, everything had ended reasonably well. He had learned runic engineering. He had gained Enhanced Smell. He had obtained his own engraver. Nothing had exploded after the first day. Nobody had transformed into a Dungeon Guardian. Sieghart almost felt proud of himself. Naturally, that feeling lasted until the following morning. He arrived at the workshop early, intending to say goodbye before heading toward the transport yard.

Instead, he found Vessa standing outside with Orin, both speaking quietly with an armed messenger wearing northern military markings. Several people farther down the street were gathered around another messenger, while shopkeepers who normally opened early remained standing outside instead of preparing their businesses. Sieghart slowed. Something had happened. The messenger finished speaking with Vessa and moved toward another workshop without even noticing Sieghart.

Orin looked considerably less amused than usual, while Vessa simply crossed her arms. Sieghart approached.

"What happened?" Neither answered immediately. That was already a bad sign. Vessa eventually looked toward his packed travel bag.

"You're not leaving today." Sieghart stared at her. He had completed the job. His wagon should depart within the hour. Mira expected him back. For several seconds, Sieghart considered whether Vessa had invented some ridiculous excuse to continue recruiting him as an apprentice. Then he noticed the town gates in the distance. They were closed. Sieghart sighed. Of course they were. His supposedly simple one-week assignment had officially ended.

Unfortunately, something beyond his control had apparently decided that he had not spent enough time near the northern border yet.