None of that touched my face, though. I played along like a good NPC.

  Chapter 40- Uneasy Truce

  I felt more than a little uneasy standing before the throne of Belchor. King Dauvson was seated there. The man had a scheming face. I could see his mind was constantly at work.

  “So, this is the leader of the ogres we have been hearing so much about?” the king asked.

  His question was not directed at either me or my team. Elgar, Robert, Tauri, and Gregor were all kneeling with me. I wanted to chuckle that my kneeling form was still taller than the dwarven cleric was while he was standing up. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I managed to hold that in. What I couldn’t hold in was the typical ogre flatulence.

  It was everything I could do not to scratch my backside. When I was first uploaded into LoS as an ogre, I remember noticing how odd it was, how often I seemed to scratch it. It was an involuntary action that all ogres performed. What was odder was that I had gotten so used to it that I didn’t notice it until Tauri had pointed it out. Now, as with everything the rogue did, she made a point of constantly reminding me about it.

  All three of the men standing in front of us were more than ten levels above me, but they varied greatly in level. Assess showed King Dauvson to be level 50, but it was the other two men standing beside him who truly put off the aura of danger. A massive man to his right, wearing ornate plate mail, was level 82. On the opposite side was a man dressed like the high mages we had battled. His gray beard was neatly trimmed, and he appeared older than any of the others, but an aura of power surrounded him. His level showed as 101.

  It was a gray bearded man standing near the throne who answered. “Yes, my king. The information we have received from the adventurer Elgar and his team suggests this ogre is the new leader of their tribe.”

  “New as in, he wasn’t the one who attacked our caravan?” the king asked.

  “Exactly, my liege. The clerics have performed a truth testing on him. He did not kill any of the caravan members. He has apparently risen to a position of power since then and taken over from those that would attack us,” answered the armored man on the other side of the king.

  “Is this true, ogre? Wait, I can’t just call you ogre. Do you have a name?”

  I stood as I had been instructed previously by the court steward. I kept my hands behind me and made no aggressive motions. Although, what they might find as aggressive from an ogre was up in the air a bit. “Your majesty, my people call me Oogliefrank.”

  The king snorted at that, then cut me off before I could continue speaking. “Ooglie, as in ugly? Interesting. I had wondered why you looked a little trimmer and your face was more human. If you are ugly to them, I expect they must think we humans are a rather repugnant race. Is that why they attacked us?”

  This was an interesting intersection in how the game worked. He spoke to me with no knowledge of faction settings. Clearly ogres killed humans because they were set at kill on sight, just like I had been with the guards. Yet the king spoke to me as if he were truly trying to understand ogres.

  “I regret my people’s actions. For too long, they have been warlike. It is my goal that instead we will turn the strength of our arms to building and will create a city. Certainly, it will have none of the splendor of your capital, Veonna, but it will be a better use for our energy.

  “As a gesture of good will, I have brought back as much of the goods as I was able to salvage. Including this bag of gems. The other goods were already turned over to your steward.”

  I opened my large hand and slowly pulled the pouch from my waist. Shaking it, the sound of the gems inside was obvious. The armored man motioned for a soldier to take the bag from me. He presented it to the general, who then handed over to the king. He seemed very pleased with this.

  “My steward already gave me an accounting of the other items that you returned. It is a good first step, but there is still one important item missing,” King Dauvson said.

  Knowing that they were scanning me for truthfulness, I had to play that answer carefully. I would never turn over the evolution crystal to them willingly. They could make the ogres drown in blood before I would do so.

  “I must apologize, your majesty. Much may have been lost. The food items were mostly consumed and some of the silk was destroyed by clumsy ogre hands.”

  King Dauvson stared at me for a moment and then shook his head, either in frustration or disbelief. The gray bearded mage spoke up, “What the king is referring to would have been a crystal that was six inches long.”

  Playing to their stereotypes, I just went with the dumb ogre routine. “Nothing like that was found in the bag of gems. I have returned all the gems that we found in the bag.”

  The mage didn’t give up so easily. “This other item would have been in a separate bag similar to the one you just returned to us.”

  “No such item is in my possession. A few of the humans escaped from the raid, so it is possible that one of them took it with them,” I said with my best poker face. At least I hoped it was a poker face. Ogre expressions still weren’t natural to me even after a few months.

  I could feel the hum of the truth telling magic around me. Everything I had said was technically true. The crystal was in a hiding spot in my home back in Ghazban Village. And as far as I knew, there were a couple of merchants who had escaped. Better to cast doubt.

  The royal mage went to ask me another question, but the king interrupted him. “The blasted thieves. That is likely why a couple of the merchants haven’t returned. I want them hunted down. Running and leaving the caravan rather than fighting is bad enough, but to steal from me. I want them hanging in my dungeon dreaming of being allowed to be reborn.”

  That statement was as enlightening as it was terrifying. So, they did have some idea of respawn. Just like Shemi thought it was the spirits bringing new ogres, so they thought of it as a reincarnation of sorts. But it also meant they knew it could be stopped.

  If I had been nervous before, I was doubly so now. Spending the rest of my life as an ogre was bad enough. Admittedly, I had come to enjoy some parts of this life, but hanging in a dungeon being tortured and denied the opportunity to respawn was not a fate that I wanted to contemplate.

  King Dauvson said, “Very well. The details will have to be worked out, but never let it be said of Belchor that we are more eager for war than peace. We will extend an olive branch to the ogres of Ghazban Village. I will let my aides prepare the documents to make it formal and I assume wizard Elgar can read the documents or otherwise explain them to you. For now, you are dismissed.”

  I wasn’t paying very much attention to the last few words the king said, or I might have been more offended. Instead, I was focused on a new quest prompt that had popped up.

  New Quest: Truce with Belchor

  King Dauvson has offered a truce. The final terms will be drawn up but will largely reflect the following requirements:

  1) You must keep ogres from attacking any NPCs of Belchor for a minimum of six months.

  2) You must demonstrate that building and not battle are your priority for a minimum of six months.

  3) You must return the evolution crystal to Belchor within six months or provide definitive proof you do not have the crystal OR provide tribute equal in value to the evolution crystal.

  Rewards: a) +1,250 XP

  b) All Ghazban Village ogres moved to Hated rather than Kill on Sight with all factions relevant to Belchor.

  c) Ghazban Village will formally have an alliance with Belchor. It will be treated as a subject state and will owe taxes to the throne of Belchor.

  Failure: Resumption of hostilities between Ghazban Village and Belchor.

  I accepted the quest. It was in direct conflict with the Make War not Love quest that I already had, but the system didn’t stop me from accepting both. After all, war took place on more than just the battlefield.

  It took me back to my childhood, back when the kids in our apartment complex could still actually play with one another instead of being cooped up with digital interaction. One neighbor had these archaic things they called a board games. Those had been fun times.

  My favorite of the games was called Risk. It was all about world domination, which seemed funny now, given my current objectives. The point that I learned from that game, though, was that alliances were a tool and more than that, alliances were made to be broken.

  Epilogue-

  Damien was waiting at the Bistro for Jessica Rudd. He had intended this to be a quick rebound relationship for her as he comforted her following the death of her brother. Instead, he found out he actually liked her. Enough to spring for a table at a place like this. They’d only been going out for six months, but she might be the one.

  That was saying a lot for a confirmed bachelor like Damien. And getting a table in this place required some serious credits. Little restaurants like this with actual human servers were kept active as a historical site by the Department of Culture. It was hard to believe that, once upon a time, places like this were common in human cities.

  Then again, could the cities really be called human cities anymore? Sure, ostensibly the humans were in charge. But they were outnumbered by the AI and robots who ran everything in practical terms. Most of the humans were kept around solely for their power to vote. It was a ridiculous system.

  Damien tried to turn his mind from something so dark. Jessica was a ray of sunlight in his otherwise dark days. Doing what he did for a living left a black mark on your soul, or at least it would if he believed in such things. It also tended to make you hyper vigilant.

  When two guys in government issue suits walked into the Bistro, Damien stood up to walk out. Terror flooded through him. He kept thinking over his various jobs and couldn’t think of any that had gone south. Sure, he rifled through some wallets, got a date here or there, but all of that had ended with Jessica.

  Every survival instinct in him was screaming to bolt, but what was the point. If the government wanted him dead, he would already be dead. Hell, if quantum games wanted him dead, he’d be dead. It wasn’t like there was any shortage of groups that could disappear people. He knew that better than most.

  That they were coming here to the Bistro was a sign. They didn’t want him dead, but they wanted to send a message. They knew about Jessica. They knew everything about his life that they needed to know.

  Damien took a deep breath. He smoothed out the suit he was wearing. He had dressed formally for the occasion. He just had to hope this wasn’t the suit they were going to bury him in.

  The two men made a straight line right for him. They no doubt realized he had seen them. If they were any good, they probably even realized the thought process that had made him stand up and then sit back down again.

  The taller of the two men said, “An issue has arisen regarding one of your deletions.”

  He leaned back. That hadn’t been a question, so he sat still. The less he said, the better. The tall man remained standing, but the shorter man sat down across from Damien. He just hoped this was over before Jessica got here.

  The seated man was wearing dark glasses. Who even did that anymore. With modern genetics, no one needed glasses. Even if there was an accident, vision could almost always be restored. Heck, they could grow you a new eye from cell samples. So obviously, the glasses were meant for another reason.

  As if reading his mind, the man said, “Don’t worry, Damien. You don’t mind if I call you Damien, do you?”

  Damien just shrugged as he said, “Whatever floats your boat.”

  “As I was saying, you don’t need to worry about Ms. Rudd…” the man began.

  All he saw was red. Carefully conditioned responses flew out the window as Damien’s hand shot across the table, grabbing the smaller man’s arm. “You better not have hurt her.”

  A simple twisting of his wrist and the other man had broken Damien’s thumb. The speed and power were beyond anything human. His skin was hot to the touch and somehow felt odd. Damien couldn’t quite place it, as his mind was filled with worry for Jessica. Pain helped keep him centered, though.

  The man simply continued as though nothing had happened. “She has just been delayed. A breach in the system caused a traffic route malfunction. She will be along shortly and presuming you tell me what I want to know, you will be here waiting for her.”

  Damien pulled his injured hand back and held it close. He could still fight, but this thing had to be some kinda machine. There was no way a man was that much faster than him.

  “So, what do you want?”

  The seated man looked over at the man, who was still standing. “See, I told you. They can be reasonable.”

  Then he looked back at Damien. Approximately 187 days ago, you performed a deletion and clean up at the apartment of a human named Franklin Rudd. I have learned that you often keep things like wallets or other little keepsakes from these jobs. While your employer may not be pleased to know that, I am ecstatic. Now, I just need you to tell me where I can find that wallet.”

  Damien was confused now. There were too many mixed signals. He didn’t know who these guys were and now wasn’t even sure who they worked for. “I already spent all the credits.”

  “Damien, this isn’t about your meaningless currency. Now, I will ask you one more time. Where can I find the wallet?” His eyes seemed to pierce deep into Damien despite the dark glasses he was wearing.

  “I incinerated it,” came back the stuttered response.

  “How unfortunate. Then, if you have nothing left from that apartment, then you will have to suffice. He will be most displeased, but I suppose that will be your problem.”

  The taller man leaned forward and put his hands on Damien. A primal fear surged within him. There was something not right about these guys. “Wait, wait.”

  “Yes, Damien? You have something more to say? I do hope you won’t make more of a fuss than is necessary. It would be a shame for more of your fellow humans to get caught up in this breach.

  “No, I mean, yes. I still have a picture from the wallet,” Damien said, fumbling over his words.

  The man sat there silently.

  “It’s back in my apartment. In my junk drawer. I kept it because it’s a picture of Jessica.”

  “But it belonged to Mr. Rudd?”

  “Yes, I swear it,” Damien answered. He felt sick to his stomach. He was made of sterner stuff than this. Why were these guys freaking him out so much?

  “Thank you. We will retrieve it. Enjoy your evening.”

  Then the shorter man held out his hand. A brief red glow appeared over his hand and searing pain shot through Damien. This was the type of pain that robbed you of the ability to even scream. Then it passed as quickly as it had come, and he noticed his thumb no longer hurt.

  Cautiously, Damien flexed his formerly broken appendage and found it to be in perfect working order. Also, the two men were gone. His head was spinning and for a moment Damien wondered why he had thought there were two men at his table. He was here waiting for Jessica, after all. Tonight, would be a special night.

  Except there was still this nagging in the back of his mind, like he had forgotten something. Damien didn’t like that feeling. In his line of work, you couldn’t afford to forget anything. But then he saw her smiling face walk through the entrance of the Bistro and everything else was forgotten.

  To be continued…

  THANKS FOR READING SHAMAN’S CALL- FROSTBURN

  If you’d like this story to continue and thrive, please leave a nice review here!

  Book 2 will be titled SHAMAN’S CALL- FREE FALL. No pre-release this time or not yet at least. I want to be a bit more flexible as I have many plates spinning now. I plan on publishing book 2 at the end of December 2021.

  Sometimes I get asked, “What can I do to support your writing?”

  The answer is mostly obvious- read my books, leave positive reviews, and spread the word. For those that want to go beyond I have a patreon page where you can get early chapters of the books I am working on as well early glimpses at cover art and various behind the scenes info.

  https://www.patreon.com/user?u=39529448&fan_landing=true

  Watcher’s Test

  Watcher’s Question

  Watcher’s Fate

  Watcher’s Repose

  _________________

  An Unwitting Prince (depends on publisher)

  ________________

  Class Shift- Uncontrolled (December 2021)

  ________________

  Shaman’s Call- Free Fall (December 2021)

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