Page 32 of Scoring the Orc

Finally, when I’m satisfied they’ve pushed themselves to their limits, I call for a break. They collapse onto the ground, panting and gulping down water. I stand over them, arms crossed, waiting for the right moment.

“Listen up,” I say, my voice cutting through the heavy breaths. “I don’t care what you think you know or what you’ve heard. What matters is what happens here, on this field. We’re a team, and we fight together. Understood?”

There’s a murmur of assent, some nodding, others too exhausted to respond. But I see the message sinking in. “Good.” Ignoring the lingering looks, I dive straight into the next phase of our training—brutal conditioning. “Now get up. We’re not done yet.” Their grumbling is like music to my ears.

“We’re going to push it today,” I announce. “No half-measures. I want to see what you’re made of.”

I start them on sprints, up and down the length of the field. “Faster!” I roar, eyes scanning for any sign of slackening. “Move it! You think the other team’s going to take it easy on you? Think again!”

Sweat pours off them in rivers, their breathing turning ragged, but I don’t let up. I can’t afford to. Not with the game so close and the whispers of Emilia still hanging in the air. “Next, endurance drills. You stop when I say you stop!”

We transition into grueling sets of push-ups, sit-ups, and burpees. Every muscle in their bodies is pushed to the brink. My eyes are everywhere, catching even the slightest hint of fatigue or hesitation.

“Varg, pick up the pace!” I snarl, seeing him slow. “You think you’re tired? Push harder! You want to win, don’t you?”

He grunts in response, pushing himself harder, and I see the rest of the team following suit, driven by both the challenge and my relentless presence. I push them through circuit after circuit, their bodies screaming for rest, but I allow none.

“Keep going!” I shout, my voice a relentless hammer. “No one stops until I say so!”

Hours pass, the sun climbing high in the sky, beating down on us. Their movements become slower, more labored, but I keep pushing. “You think this is hard? This is nothing compared to what we’ll face on the field! Show me your strength, your determination!”

Finally, when I see they’ve reached their absolute limits, I call for a halt. They collapse, gasping for breath, muscles trembling with exhaustion. I stand over them, chest heaving, but resolute.

“Remember this feeling,” I tell them, my voice steady despite my own weariness. “This is what it takes to be the best. This is what it takes to win.”

There’s no mention of Emilia now. No sidelong glances or whispered comments. Just a team, bonded through shared hardship, ready to face whatever comes next. The orcish way.

As the team tries to shake off their exhaustion, I stand tall, having reasserted my dominance. The field is littered with my spent warriors, their heavy breaths punctuating the silence that falls over us.

But now, the thoughts of what waits for me at home filter in. And my thoughts of Emilia have turned sour. Having a week to feast on her made me blind to the reality of our situation.

I grit my teeth at the thought of appearing soft over a mere slave. Emilia, who has become so much more to me in private, must remain just another conquest in the eyes of my brutish kind.

I can’t afford any hint of weakness. My mind races, and a cold resolve settles in. I vow to redouble my cruelty toward Emilia in public. No matter how much she means to me behind closed doors, outwardly, she must be treated as nothing more than a possession. The stakes are too high, and any sign of softness could undermine my authority.

“Get some rest,” I bark at the team, my voice hard. “We’re not done yet. Tomorrow, we’ll push even harder.”

They nod weakly, dragging themselves off the ground and towards the showers. As I watch them go, I feel a pang of guilt. The relentless conditioning, the harsh words – it’s all necessary. But I can’t shake the unease settling in my gut.

With this resolved, I turn and stalk off the pitch, the rumors quashed for now. But inwardly, doubts begin to gnaw at me. Can I truly keep up this façade? Can I balance the brutal leader my team expects despite the thoughts I’ve been having over a mere human? I’m an orc – I can take what I want…

But the way that Emilia has twisted me is something else. I refuse to be seen as weak. I wanted to break this woman, but it seems I’ve lost sight of that.

I push the thoughts away as I head towards the showers, the cool water a brief respite from the turmoil within me. I know I’ll see Emilia soon, and the thought both comforts and tortures me.

I’ve come to love her willingness to be with me. Yes, she still fights me, but she always bends, and I love watching it. It is a game we’ve come to play, but it also seems to be costing me my reputation.

As the water washes over me, I try to steel myself. The game is all that matters. My team needs me to be strong, unyielding. I can’t have everyone thinking I am anything less. I am their captain – and an orc! I’m stronger than that, better.

I’ve let a little human get too far under my skin. She’s been scrambling my mind since the day I met her, and I let her shake my resolve. I need to prove that she is nothing to me, even if inwardly I know that is no longer true. I have to make everyone else believe that she is just another conquest.

Which means I’m about to show Emilia what cruelty really looks like.

21

EMILIA

Ican’t keep my eyes from wandering. Truthfully, I’ve been finished with the laundry for half an hour, but I expected Jurto to be home by now. The sun is already high in the sky, and he’s still gone.