As the villagers depart with their escort, Gorthal approaches, the blood-bound axe now resting across his broad shoulders. His ritual scars have dimmed to a dull pulsing, combat excitement giving way to satisfied calm.

  "Monster Lord," he repeats, testing the title. "Fitting. Orcs respect lords more than tamers. Tamers control beasts. Lords command armies."

  I nod, surveying the smoldering ruins of the bandit fort. "Speaking of commanding armies, we need better intelligence about this region. These bandits working with Keenan, Death Knights appearing in human settlements—there's a bigger picture we're missing."

  Gorthal grunts in agreement. "Should question captured leader. Blood rituals can extract truth quickly."

  "Soon," I assure him. "But first, I want information freely given." I turn to Skritt, our goblin captain who has finished organizing the looting operation. "Find me any maps, letters, documents from inside. Anything that might tell us more about who controls what in this region."

  The enhanced goblin salutes with unexpected crispness—another sign of how my power has refined his kind beyond their typically chaotic nature. He scurries off, barking orders to his subordinates to search the commander's quarters thoroughly.

  While we wait, I walk the perimeter of the captured fort, assessing its potential. The structure is damaged but salvageable—stone foundations with wooden reinforcements, positioned with good visibility of the surrounding countryside. It could serve as a forward base, allowing us to extend our influence from the mountain valley.

  "Thinking of claiming this place?" Gorthal asks, reading my thoughts with the intuition our bond has fostered.

  "Perhaps. A network of outposts would be more effective than a single base. Harder to target, easier to maintain presence across a wider territory." I kick at a section of damaged palisade. "This needs work, though."

  Skritt returns bearing a leather satchel filled with papers. "Found in commander's chest," he reports. "Maps, letters, ledger book."

  I take the satchel to a relatively undamaged table in what appears to have been the fort's mess hall. Spreading out the documents, I begin piecing together the political landscape of the region we've found ourselves in.

  The maps are the most immediately useful—detailed renderings of the surrounding territories with markings indicating settlements, roads, and what appear to be political boundaries. Gorthal joins me, his tactical mind immediately grasping the significance of what we're seeing.

  Our current stronghold, once the orc warlord Blackjaw's camp, is nestled in a defensible valley within the northern foothills of the Thunder Mountains. The terrain gives us a solid advantage, with high ground, limited approach routes, and good visibility of the surrounding territory.

  From the documents we've recovered, it's clear this region is split among four main powers. To the southeast lies Keenan's territory, marked in yellow on the map, centered around the town of Hillbrook and surrounded by agricultural villages. South of that is a separate domain under the rule of a lesser-known lord named Veris, whose lands are shaded in purple. From intercepted correspondence, it's evident that Keenan and Veris are rivals, with a history of hostility that has shaped local tensions.

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  To the east lies the Merchant Confederation, a loose alliance of trade cities governed by a council. Their primary interest is maintaining stable and secure trade routes, many of which skirt the southern edge of the Thunder Mountains. The Confederation's roads are prime targets for bandits, which explains why so many skirmishes have occurred near their borders.

  To the west and northwest stretch the traditional lands of the orc tribes, now fractured and under threat due to the slow, steady push of the Azuran Empire from the far west. These contested territories are marked by Imperial expansion and tribal displacement, but so far, the Empire has not directly threatened our current position.

  This explains why Blackjaw had been uniting orc tribes—preparing for conflict with this expanding human empire. The political landscape becomes clearer: Keenan's territory and Lord Veris's lands are technically part of a kingdom called Elmridge, but operate with significant autonomy. The Merchant Confederation to the east maintains independence through economic power. And to the west, the Azuran Empire presses against orc-held territories.

  Effectively, our region breaks down as follows:

  We're situated in a strategic nexus—not in the direct path of any major power, but close enough to influence or obstruct their movements. Controlling these mountain passes and highland routes offers significant leverage. It lets us observe and react to events across the lowlands while giving us defensible ground to consolidate our growing influence.

  "Bring the bandit commander," I instruct Gorthal. "Let's see what else he knows about these political relationships."

  The Black Scar's leader—a man who finally introduces himself as Varrick when brought before me—proves surprisingly forthcoming once he realizes his situation. Perhaps Gorthal's menacing presence and the clear evidence of his men's total defeat make resistance seem pointless.

  "Keenan's a puppet," Varrick confirms, watching nervously as Gorthal sharpens a small ritual knife nearby. "Has been for months, since that black-armored freak showed up calling himself an 'advisor.' Started subtle, but now everyone knows who really gives the orders in Hillbrook."

  "And what orders are those?" I press.

  "Strange ones. Having people collect certain items—old artifacts, weird metals. Especially anything that falls from the sky." Varrick shakes his head.

  "Star metal," the blood-priest growls. "Death Knights obsessed with it."

  "What about these other powers?" I tap the map. "Lord Veris, the Merchant Confederation, the Azuran Empire. How do they relate to Keenan?"

  Varrick snorts. "Veris hates Keenan—old blood feud made worse when Keenan's son dishonored Veris's daughter. Would have been war if the King's peacekeepers hadn't intervened." He points to the Confederation territories. "Merchants just want stable trade routes. They've been hiring more guards since the Death Knight arrived—don't trust his intentions."

  "And the Empire?"

  "Expanding steadily. Their legions pushed three orc tribes out of western valleys last summer. But they're cautious—stretched thin with conflicts on their southern borders too." Varrick studies me with newfound calculation. "You're building something interesting here. Monster army, controlled by a human. Where do you fit in this landscape, I wonder?"

  "Exactly where I choose to," I reply, folding the maps and tucking them into the satchel. "Gorthal, secure the prisoner. Tomorrow we inspect this fort properly, see if it's worth maintaining as an outpost."

  As night falls over the captured stronghold, I stand on the damaged western wall, surveying the territories laid out before me. With Nerk bringing in hundreds more goblins, Morrigan seeking hagraven recruits, and a fourth bond slot now open, my monster army stands poised to become a significant power in this politically fractured region.