Secret Order

"Boss."

A voice came from the skull on his staff used for urgent messages. The skull's jaw kept opening and closing as it spoke, as though its long-rotted vocal cords still remained.

"He—he's here. We can't stop him."

Mogtrakka rose from beside his rune-carving table and reached for his staff.

"Got it. I'll be there right away."

He hurried through his private side hall, then stepped outside into the corridors of the Sun Palace.

Guards and Snotlings shoved one another aside to clear a path for him. They either did not know who he was and had no interest in meeting his gaze, or they knew exactly who he was and lacked the courage to do so.

The psychic boss padded through the colonnades, gardens, and ponds in soft-soled straw sandals.

The lower-ranking guards gradually vanished, replaced by the silver-and-red figures of the Court Guard. Yet no one barred his way—everyone here knew his name and the meaning of that mask.

Once he reached the Overlord's sleeping quarters, the Weirdboyz who had called him hurried over, his face full of apology.

"Boss—"

"Stop blabbering!"

Mogtrakka barked.

"Where is he?"

"Outside. Kundraka can't hold him back."

"Then you should've called me sooner!"

Mogtrakka quickened his pace, ignoring the towering totem poles around him, the engines humming low, and the flashes from welding torches.

The mechanics were rebuilding the palace, turning it into a fortress more suited to Ork tastes—though by human standards, such reconstruction was better known as destruction.

After walking roughly two hundred meters, Mogtrakka found himself inside the first gate, where a group of Court Guards stood confronting him.

"Why are you here? Grak, you should be with your boys. The Overlord's parade is about to begin."

Mogtrakka asked as politely as he could. At his arrival, Kundraka, who