Orc Tyrant

Although there are many scholars studying Ok in the Harpy Kingdom, no one is more in-depth and obsessed with this magical race. Strictly speaking, she is not a scholar of biology, and her direction is more in humanities and Historically, this is a race capable of subverting most theoretical disciplines.

On the other hand, their queen intends to make friends with more warlords, because Ouke’s power structure is closer to the subordinate relationship under the feudal state. The warlords are loyal to the overlord, but they also have their own team, each warlord. There is an independent small kingdom inside, and understanding and pleases them is a good way for the queen to maintain the covenant.

Not everyone agrees, but more people agree.

But Quelsana was the one who actively invited to come to this most dangerous warlord. She wanted to understand the most "original" of the Ouk society. No warlord had more Ouk flavor than the red butcher.

Her colleagues said that she was a monster, and she sometimes felt that her head was broken. Maybe she mistakenly regarded a certain hobby as a pursuit?

In any case, she is here now, standing in front of Ouke, the most dangerous in the world.

Although she was trembling a little, she was also more excited than ever, which was a rare emotion for her who had always been lonely and indifferent.

"You feel?"

"I can't be sure. I, I have kept a record with the exact number and date of delivery. I have taken my personal belongings back, but all my notebooks are gone."

The road here was not all smooth sailing. In fact, in the heart of the kingdom, she was attacked. It was Grak’s guard who appeared in time to disperse the wandering war gangs and rescued her, but the banshees who went with them were all dead. , Many items were also lost.

"notebook?"

Grak tilted his head.

"What the hell, I haven't heard of it."

"It's something that can be used to record things with a pen. There is paper on it, and it can write a lot, um...a bit thick, on top—"

"I never need those troublesome things."

"No need? No records?"

"Do not."

"So my notes and drafts, all the results of my work, have been ruined by you?"

"It should be, but since you can be stupid enough to take them with you, you must keep something else, just like a mechanic will always keep a second wrench."

Quelsana nodded, she did have a backup, in her personal bag.

"Don't you record anything? War? Victory? Captured?"

"That's what the brain does."

"What if you forget?"

"If you forget, forget it, memory itself is a troublesome thing."

Quelsana was shocked by the laziness in his language. She originally thought that these creatures were always busy and could not stop at all, but in fact—

"In other words, you have requested many times, and then?"

Glak's question didn't stop.

"I got the permission, the permission to enter, I got a pass from Liya, the daughter of the sky, but in the process of coming here, I ran into some trouble."

"That's not trouble."

Glak smiled, and he took another sip of the dark drink.

"It's an after-dinner entertainment, isn't it, sandbags?"

The gloomy fur at the foot of the warlord's platform moved.

"It's your kid, isn't it?"

There was a grunt in response, and Glak grinned.

"Since you know this well, why do you need to ask me?"

Quelsana asked angrily. Although she had already made enough preparations, she still felt sad to be treated so rudely. She obviously didn't do anything. Couldn't this warlord be a little polite?

He is the leader of hundreds of thousands, even millions of Ouke!

"I just want to know if you still remember it."

Grak frowned.

"But your story is really bad. As a pet, you almost mean it."

"As a pet?"

Glak leaned forward, resting his sturdy arm like a tree trunk on his knees, his skin gleaming like a polar glacier.

"Yes, pet, then I will tell you this story. This story is for me... Boss, he saw your request, he talked with me, he said that a pet is not bad, it should be good It’s interesting. It can pass the time. A flying pet can bring some new stories. It can also come to learn our stories, or we can learn our stories, and then tell them to us."

"Do you think I'm here to do this?"

Quelsana still couldn't believe it.

"What do you think you are here for?"

The warlord asked.

"You want to know us, don't you? We don't tell stories casually. Not all kids are qualified to listen. You look promising and have a very positive attitude."

"And a name."

An old David team member behind the Harpy Scholar spoke.

Glak nodded, and the veteran stepped forward. He was tall, with a twisted blue tattoo pattern climbing along the edge of his face to the top of his sunken eye sockets, and braided gray beards stretched from under the helmet. come out.

"What are you talking about, Estka?"

"That name,"

Estka replied.

"She said she was called Quelsana."

"Oh, yes."

Glak patted his head. .

"Old memories and breaths can create extra thoughts. You made this idea, right?"

He stared at the harpy.

"Yes it is."

Quelsana nodded.

"To be honest, after writing more than a hundred letters, I am willing to try any means, and I am not sure if you will see the implication."

"Because we all jump around without thinking?"

Grak still smiled and asked, if that smile Quelsana understood correctly.

Quelsana is not her real name. This phrase has no meaning in the language of the harpy. This is the name she gave herself in Occitan, which means the recorder.

There was silence.

"Then if I understood correctly, I was brought here to let you decide what to do with me."

After a long time, Quelsana broke the dullness, her expression was very calm.

"Yes, that's the case, after all, I have the final say here."

"Not yours... the overlord has the final say?"

"Boss? He doesn't bother to care about this kind of thing,"

Grak replied with a shrug.

"When you got to Blackstone, the boss told the kid to tell me, do you really want to know me?"

"Yes it is."

"It means understanding survival and killing."

"You mean war? I've lived on the plateau of flames all my life. It's a world where conflicts continue during recuperation. I have experienced many wars, in various senses."

"It's not about war."

Grak shook his head and said.

"War is just a boss's statement. Its essence is to live. Sometimes, at a level that does not require thinking, if you want to survive, you have to stop some other guys from surviving. This is what we do, and we are very good at it. this matter."

"I have no doubt about it, boss."

"Then you just stay."

After Graak finished speaking, he took the wine bowl with both hands and held it to his mouth, ready to take a sip.

But he put it down again.

"Birds, if you want to live with us, you will inevitably learn about battle and death. You will come into contact with them up close and tell me, are you really close to any of them?"

"Neither."

"So soon, you have a chance."

As he said, he drank up the strong alcohol in the bowl.