Internment Camps Seven.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and dark clouds gathered rapidly. The twin moons quietly slipped behind them.
Whistles sounded inside the camp as soldiers herded the orcs indoors.
Heavy rain was coming. Years of neglect had left several sections of the camp walls swaying precariously in the fierce wind.
Lieutenant Aymark made preparations ahead of time to prevent the night's downpour from washing out the walls and allowing individual orcs to slip away.
Something like that had already happened last month, but it had been hushed up.
One escaped orc could hardly cause much trouble. Reporting it, however, would amount to admitting negligence. Aymark had spent three years stationed at Internment Camps Seven. Next month, he would be transferred to Durnholde Keep, promoted to captain, and appointed deputy commander of the Sixth Column.
At such a critical moment, the fewer complications, the better.
"Check the head count." Aymark inspected each cell in the camp. Once he had confirmed there were no empty places, he headed deeper into the prison.
Of all the orc internment camps, this was the only one with a dungeon excavated specifically to hold orc war criminals.
"Next month, I'll take you out of this dungeon and bring you to Durnholde Keep."
"You should have killed me long ago." A deep, heavy voice sounded from the pitch-black shadows at the far end of the dungeon.
Aymark took out a fire striker and lit a torch. Its flames flooded the dungeon with light.
There were two layers of security inside the cell.
A massive iron cage, roughly three meters tall and two meters wide, was the emaciated orc's true prison.
Its steel bars were thicker than an ordinary soldier's wrist.
The orc slumped in the corner was filthy and disheveled. Long black hair hung over his brow,