Chương 65: No Woman's Land: Part 2

Fight-Master Gurva laughed mirthfully as his underlings piled up the loot they had taken from the kitties: broken arquebuses, breastplates dented and banged up, little religious icons, coin purses, swords that were comically small in Orcish arms. Gurva saw a severed arm wedged in one of the breastplates. Casually, he plucked it out and chucked it somewhere behind him.

"Make sure you boys sort the metal properly!" The kitties were an interesting people to fight, that was for sure. They weren't as stealthy as those… ugh, those skinny boys. They actually had the fucking balls to fight head-on, which was far more sportsmanlike. The only thing he didn't like was their newfound obsession with those thunder-sticks. Annoying things, those were, not to mention, in his opinion, super unsportsmanlike, which was a disappointment overall, but he had to admit they were effective.

Clever things, those kitties were. They had killed several dozen of his boys before the line even reached the trench. Good. A battle where nobody died was a boring one, and one not worth remembering. There were some good players in this battle on their side too. The kitties had held that pike formation longer than Gurva expected. He had even seen one of the little bastards stab that asshole Vurga through his cheek. That had made Gurva laugh his ass off. Served that cock-blocking bastard right.

There had also been that one kitty on horseback at the rear, screaming louder and louder until everyone around her was dead. Gurva liked that one, though she was probably dead. Gurva smiled. He really did like the kitties. They were smart like him. He wondered how his people would be if they were more like them. Gurva frowned. As much as he enjoyed fucking and fighting as much as the next guy, he did wish Orc culture was more philosophical, or whatever the word was. Orcs were unlike the other races in the world.

They were the longest-lived, yet only a handful mentally matured past being what the other races would consider a "young adult." Physically, emotionally, mentally, morally… oh, especially morally, they were stunted, and why this was, who was to say? It was said that, at one point, all Orcs made it to full emotional maturity, but something had happened that caused the Orcs to be the way they were. Occasionally, an Orc of full maturity was born, called a "Brainee."

The Brainees held an important place in society, especially in terms of logistics, but were usually bullied for being lame. An even smaller portion were born as girls, or, as the boys so elegantly called them, "bitches." However, it seemed that distinction didn't exist for the Kharani—at least not to the extent that it did for them. Over the years, he had seen many pieces of evidence of kitties having Brainees, but to an extent, it felt as if they had more Brainees than normal people did.

Sure, it was weird as shit that all their women were doing the stuff boys should be doing, but Gurva would be lying if he said he didn't find it kinda hot. There were certainly days he wished he had been born a Kharani instead of an Orc. He especially had one big secret he could never let anyone know about. Gurva went over to his hiding place to check if it was still there. Yep, it was.

Traditionally, only Brainees could read, and those caught reading and writing for anything outside of a particular purpose were mocked and ridiculed. Gurva sighed, securing the papers one last time, then walked back to the pile of loot. Gurva still could not believe that the fake western camp had worked. They had erected a few tents, marched two companies around in circles, and kept cookfires burning. When he had first proposed it to his boys, they did scoff at him and say, "Boss, that sounds really stupid.

What, are we tryin' to buttfuck 'em?" It took him an agonizing amount of time to get it through their thick skulls what the point of an ambush was. You would think they would understand that from watching fleshball games, but apparently not. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Still, even if his boys could not understand, he was so sure that the kitties' Brainees would have caught on, but apparently, no.

"Kitties really oughta learn to count better," he muttered under his breath. Gurva was an older man—roughly 1, 000 years old. He remembered distinctly when they first found the kitties. It was near… which island was it near again? Whatever, it didn't matter, but he was on a ship travelling from one island to another when he saw a kitty ship—pathetic thing that was, almost half the size of even their smallest ships.

There had been twenty-seven of them when he and a few boys had boarded, all wearing armour and carrying those absurdly large spears of theirs. He remembered a couple of them fainting. He felt a little bad, if he was being honest. Their first impression of them was one of extreme timidness and of being easily frightened, which made the Grand Fighting Council rather dismissive of them as worthy opponents. He remembered Grand Champion Urdak having said, "I tell ya' what, ain't no point in fightin' some pussy cats.

That is like fightin' a baby Orc!" Urdak had been Grand Champion for nearly eight years before someone finally beat him badly enough to take the chair—so, given his track record, he was usually right about these things. But as it became clear the kitties had some gusto, the more appealing conquering them became. Sure, it was fun to take over, uh… what did those skinny boys call themselves again? Ah, who cares. It was fun to take them over and claim their lands as their new homeland, but the other skinny boys…

they just were so unfair and mean.

"Yo, boss!" Gurva turned. A group of young men, probably around fifty if Gurva had to go purely on looks, came toward him carrying a kitty between them. Her armour had been stripped, as had her linen undergarment, which had been tossed aside, muddied with blood and soil. She was presented to Gurva fully nude, which made Gurva slightly uncomfortable. He did not care to see kitties bare-fleshed, especially one who had not stripped herself.

Perhaps it was because he was a Brainee, but it felt far too undignified, like something was wrong about it, though he was unsure why. The kitty did not struggle. That interested Gurva. Her ears had flattened against her skull, a streak of dried blood running across her muzzle, but her chin was still held rigidly upright in a defiant manner. Every so often, she flicked her eyes from one Orc to another before letting out a small growl. Anger? Perhaps ire for having lost a good game? Gurva smiled.

He definitely had to respect that. One should feel angry after losing a good game. It was only natural.

"This is the last one!" one of the men said.

"Okay, and?" Gurva asked.

"What do you want me to do?" The boys exchanged looks, giving a shrug that silently said, You know…

"Oh, right." One of them scratched the back of his neck.

"Can we keep her?" Gurva looked at their captive. She looked up, meeting his gaze without blinking. Gurva grinned. Brave little thing, that one was. Quite cute too. He kinda wanted to let her go. He looked at the boys.

"You were the first over the wall?"

"Yeah."

"And you took the east trench?"

"Eh, most of it." Gurva stroked his chin and groaned. As much as he wanted to let the kitty go off on her merry way, he knew that if he did, his own boss would reprimand him for "wasting a potential fighting-spirit booster." It was either do what felt right and get punished for it later or do what he felt was wrong to save his own ass. That was a hard decision, but he knew which one he had to make.

"Alright, you've earned first claim. Just don't start whining to me later if she bites one of you." The boys' visages brightened immediately.

"You got it, boss!" one said with a salute. As they carried her away towards their tents, Gurva shook his head. It was hard being one of the few Orcs into philosophy.