The 'Extra' Lord - A Plundering Kingdom Building LitRPG

Selling what he could on the market, he then purchased everything he may need for the immediate future. Alchemical supplies, more water since they didn’t have a well yet, and replenished his first-aid kits. He also bought some more clothes for himself and his people. Until he could get everything up and running himself, he had to make use of the market.

Then, he called everyone and put them all at work. First, he unloaded all of the alchemical supplies; which cost a small fortune. Rizael’s eyes lit up upon seeing them. He checked the quality, and although he clicked his tongue in displeasure, he appeared happy to have anything at all. Owen admitted there was a better selection, but for the future, he needed all the money he could get.

The Warriors took the supplies over to the wall where the Builders were busy working around the clock to get it ready. While they were doing that, Owen plundered more rock and stone for them and placed it right at the building site. Although Owen had heart palpitations from continued use of Ultimate Plunder, he willed himself onward with steely determination. He needed that wall up desperately. To both fend against the tsunami, and his enemies.

Next up, he entered the building where Pyris resided. The room was clean and apart from a bed made of scrap wood and cacti fibres, it was the only piece of furniture inside. Because of the wind tunnel high above, a gentle breeze filtered down. Levi took a breath, a smile forming on his lips. It was calm inside.

Approaching Pyris, he sat by her side, and looked at her sleeping face. Before he realised that he was staring at her beauty, he quickly looked away. “Hey Pyris, is it okay if I ramble for a moment? this is all crazy, isn’t it?” Owen said, elbows resting on his knees, looking at the floor. “I’ve summoned all of you from your own worlds to fight for me. You signed your names to the System, and now you are under my command. I’m not leader material. What if I lead all of these people to their deaths? Honestly, I don’t know if I could live with that kind of blood on my hands.” Owen sighed. “A week ago, I worked in a cramped cubicle. Now I’m at war with orcs? And for what, all so I can grow stronger? Is it for my own ego that I’m still going, because I want a life that’s more than that?”

Owen massaged his neck and groaned, then looked up above, watching as the dust particles swirled, illuminated by light, and moved by the breeze. “But I won’t abandon these people. Well, I suppose they’re my people, aren’t they? That’s scary to think about.”

Exhaling, Owen stood up and stretched. “And if they’re fighting for me, I’ve got to fight for them, too. I’m going out tomorrow. I want to see the situation with my own eyes. To see if these orcs really can’t be talked to. Violence begets violence. Either try and dissuade them, or stomp them out from the roots. But I don’t want that.”

Owen sighed, looked at Pyris, and continued, “No matter what, I won’t abandon this place. So don’t worry, Pyris. Get better in your own time. Don’t rush. I don’t even know if you can hear me. I'm ready to do what I must.” Owen weakly chuckled to himself before leaving the room.

Pyris heard every word.

Owen was too tired to use Unlimited Plunder anymore. In fact, he was too tired to move. So, he decided to rest for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow would not only be busy, but dangerous. He hoped, no he wished that there wouldn’t be another casualty. But he wasn’t so naive to actually believe that. All he could do was prepare himself for that eventuality.

The passed on by and with no hunting missions on the go, it was relatively peaceful. That peace shattered when the orc they had captured started screaming all of a sudden. Draed was the first on the scene. With a closed fist, he sent it crashing against the orc’s face. Silence reigned for only a second before he started again, eyes practically spitting fire.

“Gorath,” Owen approached along with everyone else. The orc was finally ready to speak. It would give vital information. If Gorath understood his words, then it meant he could be familiar with the inner workings of the orc’s clan.

“I understand him,” Gorath said, frowning.

“What’s he saying?” Owen asked, still drowsy from just having woken up. “Nothing good I imagine.”

“No,” Gorath replied. “Death to us all. In shortened words.”

“Thought so,” Owen said. He looked at his generals. Draed, Lome, Gorath, and now the leader of the Scout division: Rehan, and the head of the Assassins, Mirian. “Follow me. We need to discuss further plans. Lome, please silence him for now.”

Lome nodded. In one swift motion, he clobbered the orc over the head, knocking him out cold.

Owen sighed. “I meant to gag him. You–nevermind.”

Cedric gagged the orc and then they all made their way to the wall. A large table made of bone filled one of the larger rooms. It was to be the command room.

It was Mirian, who seemed the silent type, who actually spoke up first. “Since Gorath knows their language, it means that they are related, in some way or another. That means his knowledge is vital now. Where and how they sleep, their architecture, their guarding patterns.”

Owen turned to Gorath. “Is that true? Are you confident in them being related to your world in one way or another?”

“It’s hard to say exactly as my memories of my world are jumbled,” Gorath said. “But the orc's clothes, his dialect, it’s all familiar. I can tell you of various battle strategies employed by my kind. Based on that orc’s personality, it won’t be difficult to pinpoint their methods.”

“Good,” Owen said. “Go on–”

Gorath went on to explain their methods, guarding patterns, how they scouted, all the way to their habits, lifestyle, and buildings they constructed. Gorath’s mind seemed to expand as he went on. Although he didn’t know the fine details like names of cities or races, he knew of the less specific. That was enough for Owen. He knew now that the orc race they were facing was one inside the book: Bloodfang Orcs. In the Land Between, they weren’t as plentiful compared to their superior brethren, the Orcen Marauders, who dominated hundreds of worlds. But this was the Cursed Lands, and it was obvious Owen was facing a small subunit of them. A new Lord, perhaps. Owen hadn’t read about them in the Cursed Lands. Maybe he hadn’t gotten that far.

With that in mind, Owen readjusted Lome’s formation for tomorrow with the help of the Warrior’s own input. Owen valued their words. After all, Owen had never seen battle except for a few days ago. Hell, one time he got into a fight with a girl in primary school and lost. He had to rely on his people and their experiences. That was how he would come out on top.

“Alright,” Owen said, placing his hands on the table as he addressed his generals. He steeled himself for his next words. “Here are my orders. We are surrounded, so Lome, you will take everyone to the south. If we try and send out small parties, we will only accumulate losses. If the orcs are aggressive as I think they are, then they will attack. Be ready for that. The orcs are to be killed on sight. Capture only if absolutely necessary to avoid casualties. Lome, I will give you my armour, but only wear it if the situation requires it. Hidden, it will prove to be a scary trump card. I want the orcs thinned out. Show them your might in an overwhelming attack. I want them to question their every next move after today. They think they can lock us in here? They will realise that’s a mistake.”

Lome saluted.

“Mirian.” Owen looked to the assassin. “You will hide amongst the sand. Don’t engage unless needed. Again, the more information we can hide from them for as long as possible, the better our standing will be.”

Mirian nodded.

Gorath fidgeted on the spot. It was evident the orc was raring to get into action after being forced onto the sidelines for so long.

“Gorath,” Owen addressed the orc. “I’m sorry, but–”

“My Lord,” Rehan interrupted. “I’m sorry, but if I may?”

Owen tilted his head. “Go on,” he asked with curiosity.

“What if we use Gorath as a ploy?”

“A ploy?” Owen asked, confused. The others listened as well.

“A sorcerer is a rare breed,” Rehan said with a smirk. “Instead of hiding him away for a rainy day in this blazing desert, why don’t we show them just how powerful he is?”

“I’m following, barely,” Owen said. “But how–” Owen paused as his eyes widened in realisation. Gorath was an orc, and with the situation being as tense as it was, hatred for the race was increasing. Owen remembered everyone's expression when they looked at the orc tied up. It was one of fury. He looked at Gorath.

“It seems you’ve caught on, my Lord,” Rehan chuckled. “If Gorath is fine with it–”

Gorath slapped the table. “If it means winning glory for my Lord, I’ll do anything, no matter the cost.”

Rehan laughed. “Then get some chains and a whole lot of bad attitude.”

Owen smiled, but it was a hollow one. For the plan to succeed, Gorath would first have to suffer. But the orc seemed okay with that.

“As for the rest of you, Draed, Cedric, Rehan,” Owen said, gathering himself. “We will head north.The moment the sands recede, we will rush to the first scouting position the orcs have set up. It will be a race between us and the orcs. Draed, do you remember where that is?”

“Of course, my Lord,” Draed said, Owen saw the excitement in his eyes.

“Good,” Owen continued, “Draed, you will go with Cedric to one location. Rehan and I will go to another. It’s risky, but with that, we can take out two scouts at once. Maybe more.” Owen clenched his hands. “Tomorrow is quite literally all or nothing. The orcs want us to remain here, cowering in fear, while they hunt and grow stronger. To hell with that. We are not mice to be played with. It’s time we reminded them of that.”

“By the Lord’s will,” the fighting force saluted, smiles of pride adorning their faces. It seemed they were happy from his words.

Finally, it was time to get some sleep. And he did, Until the tsunami rumbled the world, and washed over his domain. Owen couldn’t sleep after that, so he just watched Pyris instead. She was a reminder of why he was fighting.