RATED G | 2,300 WORDS
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CONTENT WARNING
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THIS CONTENT IS RATED
GENERAL ⓘ
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This content is approved for general audiences of all ages, though may contain material that may still be sensitive/challenging to some. Please note the Content Warning in the above section to help make decisions on your content consumption as informed as possible. |
TO THE VICTOR
Story by Alex Singer
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It was summer and time for the orcs to lie about. The sun beat down on the plains, much too hot for the invigorating wars that occupied their time in all other seasons. They could have found a mountain pass to war over or a forest in another valley to fight for logging rights, but the plains were where a true orc woman proved her muster and where a true orc woman led her brigades to victory — and if it was too hot for dispute, they would settle about the lake to fish and bathe and posture in different ways.
“Musn’t be that far along,” said Sasha the Slagger, patting her swollen belly as Evgenia the Vast came trundling over. Evgenia stripped off her cuirass and plunged into the cool, silver pools. She was not as vast as advertised, in Sasha’s opinion. Evgenia had also knocked out one of Sasha’s tusks in an early battle last season, so she had reason to want to make up for the insult. Evgenia burst out of the water and shook out her mane, facing her rival with a snort. “Your eyes grow old,” she said. “Or your wits are failing. I am carrying triplets. My very womb is a battlefield.” The assembled orc women laughed and grumbled while the men fixed their armor, brought them drinks, and fussed over them as an adjutant should attend the most lauded of generals. As summer was a bad time for war, summer was a fine time to ‘replenish the troops’ — and so the orc brigades typically timed their pregnancies so that they might give birth during the hottest of seasons. If one was to be fat and useless, one ought to be fat and useless when there was less likely to be an ambush on your army’s supply route. “Three?” huffed Nadia the Bloody, as she finished rubbing ointment into her swollen ankle, still bandaged from a fall she took in the Battle of the Crags. She’d proudly announced her pregnancy late in the war season. She was especially far along, a crossword of fresh battle scars stretched taut across her mighty abdomen. “That’s not even a tournament. What sort of victor do you expect to throw from that lot? It’s barely a competition.” Evgenia glared at this new challenge. Despite Nadia’s tendency to act as an old veteran, she had only earned the rank of general two seasons ago, same as Evgenia. “And how many are you carrying? Just one with a big head?” It likely was just one with a big head, and all of them secretly knew it. Though there were always a number of pregnant officers and generals milling about the lake every season, they always invariably gave birth to a single child. As summer was the time to lie about, it was also the time to lie about one’s accomplishments. Surely, a mighty warrior would be able to birth an army. So, in this vein, Nadia sat forward fast enough her chair creaked dangerously. Her consort had to catch the back to keep it from pitching with her. “Fool. Do you see the damn size? Do you see how low I carry? I am holding at least seven. We shall see which will emerge victorious.” “You young ones, full of such hot air,” murmured Sasha, almost prim as she beckoned her consort to resume fanning her. “Seven is fine for a third season, but do you know how badly mine are thrashing about? I wouldn’t be surprised if there were at least twelve duking it out.” “Twelve?” sputtered Evgenia. “Just so,” bragged Sasha, with unabashed pride, broken tusk and all. She was an old hand at this game. She had five mighty daughters in training. All tall, strapping, and fast-tracked for officership at the very least — they’d all been born one at a time, though. “You old liar,” snarled Nadia, with rather untoward honesty that could be considered a breach of decorum. “Oh, come over here and say that again.” But Nadia was too crampy to come over there and say that again. She instead opted for kicking dirt in Sasha’s general direction. An impromptu demonstration of trench warfare was averted by the timely arrival of the most controversial general of the plains: Alyona the Unconquered. Alyona only served for a season, but had earned her sobriquet by passing each of her seasonal battles entirely undefeated. She’d carved out an impressive series of bases in the northern steppes, and was generally considered an upstart in all possible ways. She was also considered a terrible cheater in all possible ways. First, she wore spectacles, which should’ve disqualified any proper orc from any kind of impressive title. Second, she had an obnoxious preference for traps and strategy over clubs and heavy artillery. Nadia the Bloody — whose middle name was practically clubs and heavy artillery — curled her lip. She rubbed her sore knee. The fall at the Battle of the Crags had been through a false bridge — a false bridge set up by Alyona the Obnoxiously Unconquered. The brigades couldn’t shut up about it. Everyone was convinced Nadia had announced her pregnancy not long after to take some of the glory away from the super. “So, the sell-out dares to show herself,” she rumbled. Alyona saluted. A proper show of respect for a veteran. “I was told this was neutral ground.” “It is yet that,” confirmed Sasha, gesturing warily at Nadia and her party, “but you mind yourself, girl.” “So I shall,” said Alyona. “It’s been a fruitful season, hasn’t it? You both look radiant, by the way. I’m sure each of you is an army unto yourselves.” “Ugh,” said Evgenia, who threw herself backwards into the water to remove herself from the entire situation. Alyona — the Insufferable, she should have been called — beckoned her skinny little consort over to help her set up a blanket and books for some light beach reading. This caused even more glares among the assembly. Her consort was an elf, a whippy little thing half her size. She’d picked him up from one of the plains villages. He helped organize her battles. He strategized with her. She’d put a uniform on him and everything. Completely garbage, and everyone knew it. Elves were for farming and raiding, not adjutant work, and certainly not consortship — which was what all adjutants aspired to become. So it was with great relish that Nadia looked Alyona up and down as she laid out her elf woven quilt and asked, “How far along are you?” “Soon, I think,” said Alyona. “Do not worry. My army may be newer than yours, mighty sisters, but I expect we shall have quite the reinforcements come fall.” “Could have fooled me,” said Nadia, thrusting her legs out to recline with a particular aggressiveness. She wanted to show that damned Alyona her leg didn’t bother her at all. “Can’t imagine you have much stewing in there. That elvish stock’s not particularly potent, is it?” The ‘elvish stock’ presently holding Alyona as she moved to sit looked as though he wanted very much to have a say in this conversation, but Alyona bumped him with her hip. This was trash talk as old as time, a sacred tradition. She adjusted her spectacles and straightened up in presentation. Bad eyesight or not, she was broad enough for a general, and the flat of her abs showed just a bit of a swell. “Potent enough, my comrades,” said Alyona. “I fear my formidable muscles hold it in a bit. Don’t worry. Elves may be a slight people, but they do not lack for stealth and wit. I would not be surprised if there was a whole special force at work in there. You will find worthy rivals for future conflict. Officer material, I am certain.” Her consort’s face was particularly bewildered. This was his first season on this beach — but like the very best adjutant, which was what all consorts aspired to be, he said nothing. “All officers and no champions aren’t going to get you very far.” “Nothing wrong with having officers,” put in Sasha, a little tetchy. The fact she’d never had a boy was a bit of a private sore point, but Nadia was too focused on Alyona to go for Sasha’s insecurities just then. The collected consorts exchanged glances, but none of them intervened. It was the height of summer, too hot for any real conflict. Besides, a general of any might wouldn’t dream of bringing any of their actual seasonal conflicts to the lake, that’s why they boasted and lied instead. It would take a far graver offense to ever make a single one of them even consider such a trespass upon this most ancient of traditions. Alyona trundled up to the water and dipped her foot in. “How nice and cold,” she said, mildly. To which Nadia responded quite reasonably: “My leg works just fine, you nasty little elf swivver!” Her chair flew backwards as she launched herself bodily at Alyona. Alyona stepped to the side. Nadia the Bloody charged full pelt into the water and into Evgenia the Vast, who’d been bobbing obliviously in the shallows. Evgenia howled. Evgenia duly remembered how much she hated being upstaged by Nadia, and every instance in their lives that Nadia had had the nerve to do just that. Consequently, Evgenia did the only thing she could think to do to remedy this unwelcome revelation: She punched Nadia in the face. It was the very move that had cost Sasha the Slagger her tusk. Frowning at her own brutal reminder, Sasha sighed and levered her own swollen body to her feet. “Ah, well,” she said. “Can’t say that we didn’t last longer this off-season.” Throwing off her pareo, she marched like a lord down to the shoreline, cracked her knuckles, and body slammed both of her warring juniors. Alyona duly picked up a chair and followed Sasha down the beach. The resulting brawl enveloped ten officers, fifteen adjutants, and innumerable amount of beach equipment. It took a good half hour before the consorts were able to finally pull their respective generals out of the fray. By the end of it, half of those parties were sporting black eyes or cracked wrists, and the other half had gone into labor. They were dragged from the lake beach howling and screaming bloody murder, to be taken back to their camps where their medical teams waited not at all surprised by the turn of events. Three weeks later, the generals reconvened, less fat but no less smug.
“Ah, how the mighty fall,” said Evgenia the Vast, smirking as she bobbed her voracious young girl in one arm. “Does the Slagger have no more officers left in her belly?” “Youthful ignorance,” said Sasha the Slagger, letting her newborn son gum her knuckles. She didn’t even bother to look up. “I have provided the plains girls aplenty. To have overcome so many in the womb — this one will be my champion. You should see how he clutches a club in the cradle.” Nadia the Bloody arrived with a mighty toss of her head, sporting a particularly well-swaddled and particularly fat boy strapped to her chest. He was dead asleep, head dangling to one side. He slept through all the shouting like a proper orc babe. “Forget all of that. Have you seen the size of my future champion? He took down five of his would-be brothers in the womb — no, eight! I’m sure of it! I felt them thrashing about.” Somewhat might have contested this, but Alyona the Unconquered and her consort arrived. Each of them carried a squirming bundle: one was swaddled in black, the other in white. They sat down with two equally fat babies. They weren’t that much smaller than the other infants. If their skin weren’t a slightly lighter green, and their ears a little narrower, one might not have even guessed their father was an elf. “What,” said Nadia the Bloody. “That can’t be,” said Evgenia the Vast. “It should not be possible,” mused Sasha the Slagger. “Twins,” confirmed Alyona the Unconquered, unstrapping her left breastplate as she set about feeding the first of them. “Did you know they run in elvan lines?” Her consort didn’t say anything, but he radiated a certain smugness as he passed Alyona the swaddling cloth. All the new mothers peered at her, absolutely bewildered by this new turn in the competition. They glanced at one another, unsure what direction to take the trash talk this absolutely should have required. Thus a mini war-table was formed: “How did two make it out?” “Does that mean the others were extra weak?” “But if they needed assistance, doesn’t that make them more feeble?” “Then why didn’t they take each other out?” Alyona waited for all the eyes to turn to her expectantly, before she delivered her own response: “Obviously because they were able to work together,” she declared, grinning as the first one took her breast. “Back to back against their weaker kin. They have emerged true comrades in arms. I would fear them in the days to come.” Swears and grumbling exploded among the assembled mothers, sunning themselves along the banks of the lake. They rubbed aloe on their nipples, drank mango juice, and were too sore to lie about anything at all. Damn the Unconquered, but she was right. They would have to take care when those two came of age. There was no telling what they might do. |
The End.
NOTES
Published December, 2023.
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