He called over one of the dwarf builders.
—"Do we have any dungeons where we can hold prisoners?"
The dwarf shook his head.
—"No, but there's something else…"
He paused, as if hesitating whether to speak, but then continued anyway.
—"There's an old hole in the ground in the center of the city. It's huge, stone-carved. We haven't explored it yet."
Lenor frowned.
—"Show me."
The dwarf nodded, and they set off.
After circling around the chieftain's house, they came upon a vast dark pit in the stone earth. Its shape was so precise, it was clearly not made by nature. Lenor approached the edge and ran his hand over the carved symbols on the stones.
It was something ancient. Very ancient.
—"What is this?" Lenor asked.
The dwarf sighed heavily.
—"We didn't know until you mentioned the dungeon... But now I'm sure. This was the place where the sacred elven tree once grew."
Lianel turned sharply to him, her eyes wide.
—"That's impossible…"
—"Possible," the dwarf said grimly, looking at her. "The elves destroyed it to mine mithril. That's how they met their end here."
Lenor clenched his fists. This place had become a grave for a bygone civilization, destroyed by its own greed. And now... it could become the perfect trap for their enemies.
—"If there's no way out, this is the ideal place for prisoners," Lenor said.
The dwarves nodded.
Returning to assemble the squad, Lenor began selecting the warriors.
—"I need the quickest, not the strongest. We need silence, not sword-swinging."
In the end, the group consisted of seven women warriors and five higher orcs — they weren't the biggest, but they were incredibly fast and skilled. All of them armed with short swords.
—"We attack before dawn," Lenor said, and everyone lowered their heads in agreement.
Naira stepped forward.
—"I'm going with you."
Lenor simply shook his head.
—"No."
Naira scowled.
—"Why not?"
—"Because you are the chieftain's wife. If we fail, you must lead the city."
Grimtar spoke up.
—"I'm going."
Lenor sized him up.
—"You really do know them better than anyone. Fine."
Grimtar grinned ominously.
—"We won't just capture a few. We'll sway those who have hated this chieftain for a long time but have been too afraid to oppose him."
Lenor nodded.
—"Then we act before dawn."
They dispersed.
The moon hung over the horizon, casting pale light on the city walls. The night was quiet, tense — as if fate itself was holding its breath, waiting for what was about to happen.
From the eastern side of the walls, where the dwarf provocateur remained, his drunken voice could be heard. Barely able to stand, he waved his mug of ale, shouting the most vile insults at the orcs.
—"Hey, you stupid troglodytes!" the dwarf roared, tugging at his beard and licking his greasy hand after a bite of meat. "You probably don't even know how to properly use a weapon!"
The camp of the horde stirred. The orcs grumbled, some already reaching for their axes, others pushing each other as they rose from the ground.
That was enough.
The western part of the fortress remained unnoticed by the horde. It was here, by the rocks, in the shadows of the night, that the sabotage group silently descended on ropes, like ghosts.
Lenor led the way, blending with the darkness, his eyes glowing in the night like those of a predator. Grimtar moved alongside him, his hand gripping a combat rope with strong knots. The orc warriors, light and agile, moved like a wolf pack, no sound but the rustling of sand underfoot.
The women hunters covered the rear, their eyes missing not a single movement around them.
Lenor raised his hand – a signal to stop.
Ahead, near the first row of tents, stood two guards. They whispered softly to each other, completely relaxed, unaware that they were already dead.
—"I'll go first," one of the hunters whispered to Grimtar.
He nodded slightly.
Like a shadow, the hunter vanished into the darkness.
The next moment — a barely audible snap of a neck.
The orc didn't even have time to wheeze — the body softly dropped to the ground.
The second guard only had time to lean toward his comrade:
—"Hey, what's with you…"
A faint gleam of a blade.
His throat was slit in one swift motion.
Both corpses silently rolled into the darkness, vanishing into the inky shadow.
Lenor raised his hand – a signal for the next stage.
The group split up.
The male hunters moved forward, each choosing their target. They crept, like predators before a strike, their hands already gripping daggers.
The tents echoed with the heavy breathing of sleeping orcs — a cough, the rustle of leather armor.
Black silhouettes flashed in the dark.
One pressed the blade into an orc's throat, who didn't even exhale. The second snapped a neck as if twisting the head of a dead chicken. The third, almost soundlessly, shoved a dagger between ribs, straight into the heart.
The darkness swallowed the deaths — no sound was made.
The women hunters remained behind, keeping a sharp watch over every movement around them. If any orcs stirred — they would be the first to take them out.
While Lenor directed the overall operation, Grimtar sneaked deeper — into the most guarded part of the camp, where members of his former clan resided.
His body was tense, his movements cautious. Every sound could give him away.
Finally, he found the tent he was searching for.
Grimtar pulled aside the heavy fabric, entered, and silently leaned over the orc sleeping within.
His hand clamped tightly over his comrade's mouth, and their eyes met — the orc's pupils wide with fear.
—"We'll come for you next time," Grimtar whispered in his ear. "If you want to survive, get ready."
The clan leader merely blinked in agreement, silently understanding that there was no other way out.
Grimtar flashed a predatory smile, lightly tracing his finger over the clan symbol on the orc's chest.
—"I knew you wouldn't become this bastard's dog."
The common warriors did not kill — their mission was to abduct.
One precise blow to the head — and the orc loses consciousness. The second swiftly flips the body over his shoulder and carries it to the lift point.
As they approached the wall, the body was passed upward by rope.
Lenor tightly controlled the process. Every movement, every transfer of prisoners was carried out according to plan.
Eventually, when the last orc was hoisted over the wall, Lenor signaled for retreat.
Grimtar chuckled quietly.
—"I'd love to see their faces in the morning."
Lenor barely smiled, but his eyes remained cold.
—"This isn't over yet."
The group silently retreated to the wall.