From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties!-Chapter 176: Chance At A Future!
Murkfang heard about the arrival of the orcs from a breathless Borkle who had sprinted down from the watchtower, boots skidding on gravel as he delivered the news between gasps. The words hit Murkfang like a hammer blow—the Stonehide tribe, here, descending from the mountain with the Chieftess herself leading them. He had been in the mine’s administrative building. He dropped the whatever it was he was doing without a second thought, the paper fluttering to the stone floor as he quickly scampered to welcome them, his shorter legs pumping hard to cover ground, pushing through clusters of goblins who had stopped their work to gawk at the procession entering the town. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺
Murkfang’s mind raced as he ran, calculating the implications with the sharp tactical awareness that had made him Byung’s right hand. The Chieftess wasn’t the only one they needed to please—that much was obvious but easy to overlook in the shadow of her overwhelming presence. There were more than a dozen orcs in the Stonehide contingent, each one a warrior of considerable power and individual will. They weren’t slaves or soldiers bound by unbreakable oaths; they were free to choose who they wished to mate with, where they wished to live, what role they wished to play in this new alliance. The goblin town had no ownership over them, no claim beyond the respect earned through Byung’s duel and the mutual benefits of cooperation. This autonomy had inserted a new vein into the town’s social fabric, a complexity that required careful navigation.
The presence of women—orc women, powerful and desirable—that could potentially be obtained through courtship or proven worth had not gone unnoticed by the male goblins. Murkfang had already caught whispers in the forges and mines, furtive glances and crude jokes that made his jaw tighten with worry. The goblins already knew, thanks to Byung’s harsh lessons and public examples, that forcing themselves on these orcs was certain death—not just execution but the kind of brutal, lingering demise that would make Vrognut’s fate look merciful. The orc women could snap goblin necks like twigs, crush skulls with their bare hands, and would face no consequences for defending themselves against unwanted advances.
Byung had put in a few laws to keep the goblins contained, rules carved into wooden boards and posted throughout the town in stark, simple language that even the least educated could understand. No touching without explicit consent. No harassment. No following. Violators would be made examples of, publicly and painfully. The laws existed because Vrognut was a reminder of what goblins were at their core—the darkness that lurked beneath civilization’s thin veneer, the savage impulses that could turn a community into a nightmare if left unchecked. Even Byung himself had glimpses of this darkness, Murkfang knew, moments when that cold calculation in his eyes shifted into something hungrier, more primal. But Byung controlled it, channeled it, used it rather than being consumed by it. That was what separated kings from monsters.
Murkfang rushed into the town square before the goblins could make these orcs uncomfortable, ready to intervene if tensions flared or misunderstandings arose. His stern face was set in determined line, prepared to use his authority to smooth over any friction. But he realized within moments that he had nothing to worry about. Unlike the four honor guards who always accompanied the Chieftess—those silent, stoic sentinels in bone helms who radiated menace like forge heat—these orcs were rather friendly, their demeanor relaxed and open in ways that caught him completely off guard.
They were speaking and laughing with the goblins who had tentatively approached, their deep voices mixing with the higher-pitched chatter of goblin workers in a cacophony that sounded almost... normal. Natural. One orc woman with scars across her forearms was demonstrating a weapon grip to a fascinated goblin blacksmith, her massive hands guiding his smaller ones with surprising gentleness. Another was sampling roasted meat from a street vendor, her tusked grin wide as she complimented the seasoning in broken but earnest common tongue. A third was crouched down to child-height, letting goblin youngsters touch her braided hair with shy, tentative fingers, her laughter rumbling like distant thunder.
The scene surprised Murkfang so profoundly that he stopped in his tracks, mouth hanging slightly open. He had expected some form of hostility considering their history—centuries of raids and counter-raids, goblins having orc women for breeding, orcs hunting goblins for sport or revenge, an endless cycle of violence that had defined their relationship since time immemorial. But all of that seemed to have melted away, dissolved by something he couldn’t quite name. Byung’s influence? The Chieftess’s example? Or perhaps just the simple human—no, the simple living being’s—desire for connection over conflict when given the chance.
Naruz appeared behind him suddenly, her approach silent despite her size, and placed her gigantic hand on his shoulder. The weight was comforting rather than threatening, warm through the fabric of his tunic. Murkfang turned to look up at her, craning his neck to meet those eyes that held wisdom earned through decades of battle and survival. She spoke quietly, her voice pitched for his ears alone despite the crowd’s noise.
"There’s a reason Maui stayed with Byung and betrayed our people for him," Naruz said, her tusks catching the fading sunlight as she glanced toward where Maui stood near the guest houses, watching the Chieftess with guarded concern.
"It wasn’t just because she fell for him, though that’s part of it. It was because she believed this was possible right from the get go—that goblins and orcs could coexist, could build something together instead of tearing each other apart. Most of us thought she was insane, blinded by lust or sentiment. But look around." She gestured to the square with her free hand, encompassing the mingling crowds, the shared laughter, the tentative bridges being built.
"She was right. Byung made it real."
Murkfang smiled, the expression pulling at scars on his face, and looked up at Naruz with genuine warmth in his eyes. He nodded slowly, the gesture carrying weight beyond simple agreement.
"He has a way of making the impossible seem inevitable," Murkfang said softly. "I doubted him once. Never again."
Naruz squeezed his shoulder gently before releasing him, her own smile softening the harsh lines of her scarred face. "Good. Because tonight, he faces his biggest test yet. And if he passes..." She trailed off, but the implication hung heavy. If Byung could satisfy the Chieftess, could prove himself worthy in that most intimate of arenas, the alliance would be unbreakable. The future secured.
They stood together in companionable silence, watching the town—their town—come alive with possibility.
