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“Oh, her! I like the look of that girl right there.”
“Alrighty! Let me go ask her for her name!”
The very next day, Bash and his winged partner were hard at work “hunting” for women on the Do Banga’s Pit’s main street.
Though this wasn’t the kind of “hunting” the Orcs regularly did back in the day.
The Hero would see a girl that struck his fancy, and Zell would go up to her to ask her for her name.
She also questioned the prospective mate about whether she was married, and if she was a local.
Afterwards, the Faerie wrote it all down on a sheet of paper that Bash was currently holding.
The pair were gathering intel.
Looking back upon their previous unsuccessful attempts, they realised their failures were mainly due to a lack of information.
Both times Bash had proposed to women who were out of his reach no matter what he did.
Judith had an indelible traumatic experienced caused by Orcs, and Sonia was a far too imminent a personage.
However, had he proposed to any other Elven woman…
For example, a regular Elven soldier, as Breeze had done, she might have responded positively to his advances.
He had to first determine who was truly in reach, and then ask for her hand in marriage according to Dwarven etiquette.
That was the Hero’s fool proof plan for this attempt.
“Alright, I got it. Her name is Pauline, single, commoner, currently works at a tavern a little further down the street. She quite pretty! But really mister, I think you should go for a woman of a higher tier.”
“We’d have to find one first.”
“Of course! Have no doubt that your loyal companion here will track down your perfect potential wife! Anyways, the list is pretty long now, isn’t it? Let’s go and think of a plan to get all of these girls!”
“Yosh!”
Collect names, gather information, and strategize accordingly.
They had to figure out what kind of man the woman living here in Do Banga’s Pit liked, and whether they were open to marrying an Orc.
At the very least, the Hero didn’t feel the overt hostility and fear that had been directed at him in Human Country.
Even so, he couldn’t lower his guard.
It was essential to have a clear understanding of the situation, and only then proceed with a sure-fire tactic.
Bash and Zell were both seasoned veterans.
They had tasted defeat two times now.
There would not be a third.
“Okay, let’s – …”
It was then that a familiar sound reached Bash’s sensitive ears.
The earth shook from the waves of a thousand shouts coming from afar.
The choir of yells and cries that he had heard so many times during the war.
“Hm? What’s up boss? You found another woman you like?”
“No. I hear… celebration?”
“Oh! One of the ladies told me that there was a coliseum nearby! You wanna go check it out?”
“Hmm…sure.”
Bash agreed as he turned to follow the sound of the cheers.
The coliseum was easy to find.
It was smack-dab in the centre of the whole mountain and was where the main street ended.
From a distance, it looked like an enormous wall – a sheer rocky cliff.
But as Bash got closer, he could distinguish its details and realized it was a large, circular building.
Approaching even further, he noticed the gaping hole in the town’s ceiling directly above the construction – the previous mouth of the volcano, serving as a natural light source highlighting the coliseum.
An arena of solid stone, built according to Dwarven architecture.
The cheers came from within it.
But that wasn’t all. Bash could also distinguish the familiar echoes of metal clashing metal.
Two swordsmen were fighting, from the sounds of it.
“Looks like its pretty popular.”
“Sure does.”
A seemingly endless throng of people were coming and going through the coliseum’s entrance, likely to watch the match.
“Oh, seems like we need to pay an entrance fee.”
“No problem. I still have some money left from Siwanasi Forest.”
As they were about to enter, something caught Bash’s eye.
It was a group of individuals, sitting idly near the arena’s wall.
They looked familiar.
Orcs.
For some reason, a bunch of Orcs were lingering nearby.
Their hands and feet were shacked and tied down with thick iron chains.
“Oh, they’re Orcs. What’s going on?”
“Well…”
“Strays?”
“Probably.”
Bash hesitantly affirmed. Of course, he didn’t know the names nor the faces of every Orc out there.
Sure, he remembered nearly everyone whom he met within Orc Country in the last three years of peace, but even then he couldn’t be sure, as a significant number of Orcs had gone rogue during that time.
In other words, it was hard to determine who had died in combat, who had decided to simply not return, and who had decided to rebel afterwards.
As for this particular bunch, Bash did not recognize their faces.
However, he had the vague impression that he had seen them before, so they must have fought alongside each other at least once during the war.
If that was the case, they must have run away from Orc Country right after peace was brokered.
Seeing as they were now enslaved within Dwarven lands, he wondered if they had come here to wreak havoc and were subsequently caught.
Had they been war captives, the Hero would have rescued them without a second thought.
Unfortunately for them, stray Orcs were no longer Orcs.
“Let’s go.”
Turning away, Bash stepped into the arena.
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