Borg was sleeping fitfully in his quarters, his body sprawled across the bed in a position that spoke of passing out rather than choosing rest. He had been drinking liquor a lot more than usual over the past weeks, the strong spirits the only thing that quieted the anxiety gnawing at his insides. The empty bottles scattered around the room bore testament to his increasing dependence—three just from today alone. He felt abandoned by Rodell, by the alliances he'd thought he was building, by the security he'd believed came with seizing power.
There was little he could do alone, and the limitations of his leadership were coming into sharp view now as the other orcs were beginning to question his authority. He heard the whispers during training sessions, saw the skeptical looks when he gave orders, felt the hesitation before warriors obeyed his commands.
