The Lord: In Another World, I Have a Summoning Card !-Chapter 29: The Messengers

Amidst the darkness that blanketed the dense forest, seven figures moved silently between the twisted trees.

They were no ordinary orcs—they were the elite, the chosen messengers of the newly established royal court.

Their mission was clear: reach the new camp of Gerum, the army commander who had attempted to invade the Iron Fortress, and deliver a small, sealed box sent personally by the Grand Shaman.

Leading them was Drazgh, his dark eyes scanning the path ahead with caution, his fingers lightly resting on the hilt of the long sword strapped to his back.

He was tall, even by orc standards, his body forged like steel, but his most defining trait was his unwavering composure.

Behind him, the other six followed in disciplined silence, each hailing from a different orc clan.

Some were swift as shadows, while others were strong enough to uproot a tree with their bare hands.

But despite their differences, they all shared one thing in common—a deep sense of unease about what they were carrying.

A low whisper broke the silence, as Rogar, one of the orcs, asked, "Sir, how much farther until we reach Gerum’s camp?"

Drazgh replied without looking back, his voice steady, "If we maintain this pace, we will arrive before midnight. There is no room for mistakes. What’s inside this box is worth more than all our lives combined."

A hushed voice, barely audible over the rustling leaves, muttered, "Sir... do you know what’s in the box?"

Drazgh did not turn as he answered calmly, "It is not our place to ask. The Grand Shaman said that only Gerum has the right to open it and claim its contents."

Rakzor, another orc, crossed his massive arms over his chest and sighed. "But why all the secrecy? What could be so important? We’ve never carried anything like this before."

A worried voice hesitated before speaking, "If our mission is this important, why didn’t the shaman send more protection?"

Drazgh replied without hesitation, "More orcs mean more risk. The larger our numbers, the higher the chance of being discovered."

Then, his voice hardened, carrying a quiet authority that silenced further discussion.

"Do not ask unnecessary questions. We are merely messengers, not here to understand the will of the royal court. Our duty is to deliver the box and leave. That is all that matters."

But despite his firm words, the flicker of doubt in his eyes betrayed his own uncertainties.

They had been sent by the newly formed royal court, under the leadership of the Orc Lord, to this remote location—far from the great battlefield where Duke of the North, Criman, along with the kingdom’s generals and the great tribal leaders, waged war against the orc forces.

Their mission was to transport something of immense importance from the royal treasury, leading him to initially believe it was a covert operation or part of a grand strategy.

But as his men had questioned—if this mission were truly of such critical importance, would the royal court have sent only them?

Even if his personal strength was equivalent to that of a peak human trainee knight, and his soldiers possessed skills on par with seasoned warriors trained in martial breathing techniques for years, it still wouldn’t be enough for a mission of this magnitude—if it was indeed as vital as it seemed.

There was no point in dwelling on such thoughts. The only thing to do was to continue their path cautiously, moving stealthily between the trees and halting at the slightest suspicious movement.

As they neared their destination, an unsettling feeling crept over Rakzor.

He suddenly stopped, raising his hand to signal his commander.

Drazgh’s voice came in a low whisper, "What is it?"

Rakzor answered in a barely audible tone, "Something’s here... someone is watching us."

A hushed voice muttered, "Could it be...?"

The orc warriors instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons. Though their mission was not one of battle, their warrior instincts urged them to be prepared for any unforeseen danger.

Silence engulfed the forest, yet a strange, ominous sense of anticipation loomed over them.

Rogar quickly scanned his surroundings, his glowing eyes sweeping over the shifting shadows between the trees, but he saw nothing definite.

Before anyone could make a move, Drazgh cut in with a low but firm voice, "Do not make unnecessary movements. Let’s keep going, but with double the caution. If someone is following us, they’ll reveal themselves sooner or later."

The others nodded in agreement and continued forward, now more vigilant than ever.

Their eyes tracked every movement, and their ears strained to catch the faintest whisper from the surrounding forest.

Not far away, Fenris and his team silently observed the orcs.

When Fenris noticed their sudden halt and heightened tension, he realized they might have sensed their presence.

It wasn’t surprising—orcish instincts were fierce, their senses sharp, and their tracking and hunting skills should never be underestimated.

Leaning forward slightly, Fenris whispered to his team, "Be cautious. These orcs aren’t soldiers from the enemy’s main camp attempting to seize the fortress. They’re likely outsiders. We don’t know why they’re here, but it’s possible they’re heading toward the enemy’s camp—Guerom’s camp."

He added in a hushed but decisive tone, "Moreover, they’re carrying something important. Even our team noticed their unusual behavior. We don’t know exactly what they’re transporting, but their actions suggest they’re on a special mission."

Then, furrowing his brows, he continued, "And more importantly... they’ve discovered us."

Tension rose among his men, their grips tightening around their weapons.

The air was still, yet the wind gently rustled through the trees, making the branches sway as if whispering secrets of the impending confrontation.

One of the soldiers whispered, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of battle, "Should we attack now? I think we can take them down quickly since they don’t yet know our exact location or numbers."

But Fenris raised his hand, signaling him to stop. His eyes remained fixed on the orcs as they moved through their path.

His voice was cold and measured, "No, not yet. We don’t know their strength or the nature of their mission. We need to understand their movements before making any reckless decisions."

Watching them carefully, Fenris noticed something unusual—their movements weren’t random.

They quickened their pace at times, stopping at specific points as if verifying something.

Their coordination was too structured for ordinary messengers, further solidifying Fenris’s belief that they were transporting something valuable—or perhaps even dangerous.

But before Fenris and his team could reposition themselves or retreat deeper into the shadows, the orcs suddenly changed direction—rushing straight toward them.

At last, they emerged before their eyes.

Ragnu, the orc in charge of tracking, whispered in a low voice, barely audible over the rustling leaves beneath their feet, "I smell humans..."

When Rogar heard his companion’s words and spotted the human figures, his eyes narrowed in anger, and a ferocious grin spread across his face.

Clenching his weapon tightly, he said calmly, "A few human soldiers dare to leave their walls, where they cower like rats, and step into orc lands to follow us? If you seek death, I will be more than happy to grant it to you."

Ragnu, one of the most experienced and oldest orcs in their group, who had been silently observing before the battle, spoke in a steady but cautionary tone, "Rogar, be careful! These humans are not always as weak as you assume. They may be stronger than we think. We might need to tread carefully."

Rogar scoffed and whispered to his comrades, his voice dripping with disdain, "A small group of lost humans in the noble lands of the orcs... how much strength could they possibly have? You’re just exaggerating. They are no threat. We’ll crush them before they even realize what happened."

His words stirred the warriors around him.

The orcs paid no heed to the consequences of facing humans; they acted as if they knew they had the upper hand in raw power.

"Stay sharp! These orcs won’t stop." Fenris’s voice was sharp as his team braced for the incoming assault.

Drazgh tightened his grip on his massive axe, while the rest of the orcish warriors prepared to charge at the humans before them.

Their confidence in victory was unshaken—they had superior numbers and were naturally stronger due to their racial physical advantage.

The orcs didn’t wait any longer; they decided to take the initiative.

With a sudden burst of speed, they lunged toward Fenris and his team, weapons gleaming, convinced that the battle would be an easy one.

But they had made a grave mistake.

The moment the orcs charged, Fenris had already anticipated their intentions.

He swiftly raised his hand, signaling his soldiers to prepare. As the first blade struck, the battle erupted.

Drazgh led the charge, swinging his axe toward Fenris, but the latter dodged with ease and countered with a quick slash, forcing the orc to step back.

At the same time, the other three human soldiers clashed with the rest of the orcs, while Karon remained in the back, ensuring his safety.

It became clear from the start that the orcs had severely underestimated their opponents.

Though outnumbered, Fenris’s soldiers had superior training and a powerful leader—factors that swiftly tipped the balance of the fight in their favor.

Ragnu, who once believed humans were weak, suddenly found himself forced to fight fiercely as one of the summoned soldiers cut his way toward him, delivering precise sword strikes.

A war cry erupted from one of the orcs as he lunged at a human soldier, but he was shocked when his opponent effortlessly dodged his attack and countered with a direct stab to his side.

The orc collapsed, groaning in pain, while Fenris turned to deflect another incoming strike.

Meanwhile, Drazgh was locked in a brutal clash with Fenris, swinging his massive axe with overwhelming force.

However, the human leader was agile, evading each strike with precision.

"I’ll tear you to pieces!" the orc roared as he attacked.

"You’re weak!" Fenris retorted, seizing an opening to drive his sword into the orc’s side, forcing him to recoil in pain.

With a sudden and unexpected strike, Fenris slashed Drazgh’s shoulder, causing the orc leader to stumble back, roaring in fury.

"Is that all you’ve got?" Fenris taunted with a mocking tone as the orc groaned on the ground.

One of the remaining orcs, shorter but much faster, dashed around the battlefield, attempting to bypass the fighting and reach Karon, assuming him to be the weakest link.

But Karon was ready—he swiftly swung a small dagger, slicing into the orc’s thigh. The orc screamed in pain before collapsing to the ground.

As the battle raged on, one of the orcs attempted to escape, carrying a small chest, realizing that the fight was no longer in their favor. A human soldier spotted him and quickly fired an arrow, but it missed its target.

Fenris immediately turned, dashing forward with incredible speed and power to cut off the fleeing orc’s path.

They clashed in a brief but intense exchange—the orc desperately tried to break free and run, but Fenris blocked his escape, delivering a swift sword strike to the orc’s arm.

The chest slipped from his grasp, and before he could retrieve it, a summoned soldier intervened, delivering a decisive blow that ended his resistance.

With more orcs falling, Drazgh realized the battle was lost. He had only one choice left—retreat and save what remained of his team. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Roaring in frustration, he gave the order to withdraw.

The remaining orcs quickly followed, dragging their wounds and disappointment with them as they disappeared into the darkness.

Fenris stood amidst the battlefield, now quiet, watching the orcs flee.

He picked up the small chest, inspecting it cautiously, before turning to Karon and the rest of his soldiers.

"We have it, but we need to evacuate quickly and return to the fortress... There’s a high chance an orc camp is nearby, and we could be surrounded and hunted down."

....

Gerum sat inside his large tent, the flickering flames before him casting restless shadows on his face.

His crimson eyes remained fixed on the message in his hand, his fingers tightening around the parchment as impatience gnawed at him.

More time had passed than expected, and Drazgh’s team had yet to arrive.

Gerum was a massive orc, his body covered in the scars of countless battles fought over the years.

His burning red eyes reflected the wisdom of a seasoned warrior, but today, he was not on the battlefield.

He was waiting for something far more valuable than victory—the chest sent by the Grand Shaman.

"If they delay any longer..." he muttered under his breath before turning sharply to one of his subordinates.

"Send out scouts. I want to know what’s holding them up."

He had no doubt that Drazgh and his warriors were more than capable of carving their way through any threat as the new special messenger from the royal court, yet an unsettling feeling of unease gnawed at him.

What lay within that chest could change more than just the course of the war—it could change his own fate.