The smoke of victory still hung over the Broken Current Ford, coiling into the grey skies like ghosts of the fallen. Gorak stood on the river's edge, arms crossed, watching the current surge southward—toward lands yet unconquered. He had won the ford, but that alone meant nothing if it could not be held.
Now came the harder part: planting roots.
"Start with the palisade," he said to Tharak, pointing toward the half-burned remnants of the Redmaw fortifications. "Rebuild it stronger. Taller. And make sure no one builds without watching the river. That's our spine now."
Tharak nodded, still limping from the battle. The scar across his temple had scabbed over, but his pride had never burned brighter.
Drask crouched beside a battered map, spreading it over a rock. "We'll need patrols upriver and down. The Redmaw sent runners. Neighbors will come sniffing soon."
Gorak nodded. "Let them. Let them see the smoke and hear the hammering. Let them wonder what rises here."
Within days, the war camp began transforming.
The stench of corpses faded as ash was buried. Redmaw survivors, now Gorak's subjects, toiled alongside Ashfang warriors to erect barricades, dig defensive trenches, and fell trees for lumber. A few grumbled about the chain of command, but Gorak made his stance clear when one tried to rally a mutiny.
The orc's head now adorned a spike at the camp's entrance.
"Loyalty," Gorak told the Redmaw captives, "is the only thing I reward more than strength. Defy me, and the river will carry your bones."
They obeyed after that.
Weeks passed. Fields were cleared and burned for planting. A blacksmith's forge crackled to life, using scavenged Redmaw steel and stone from nearby quarries. A watchtower began rising along the north bank. For the first time in his life, Gorak wasn't simply surviving.
He was building.
Each morning, he walked the perimeter before sunrise. He memorized the layout—the sight lines between the towers, the distance from tents to gates, the placement of supply caches. He listened to builders argue, to warriors laugh or grumble, and occasionally joined them in the hard work of raising walls.
Respect grew from sweat.
But so did whispers.
At the edge of the growing settlement, deep in a copse of trees, some of the Redmaw orcs began gathering at dusk. They lit no fires, spoke little, and watched Gorak's patrols with wary eyes.
Drask reported it first.
"Old blood," he said, chewing a strip of dried meat. "They call themselves the Scarsworn. Claim loyalty to the Redmaw's bones, not his killers."
"Are they arming?" Gorak asked.
"Not openly. But they don't work. They don't speak our oaths."
Gorak was silent for a long moment. Then: "Bring me their leader. Alive."
The next evening, the camp gathered to watch as an orc—taller than most, with ritual scars carved across his face and arms—was dragged in chains before Gorak. His eyes burned with hatred.
"I am Vokh of the Scarsworn," he said proudly. "We remember. The Redmaw line will outlast yours, no matter how many walls you raise."
Gorak stepped close.
"You remember the past. I remember who won. And now, so will everyone else."
He raised Flamefang, letting the axe rest against Vokh's shoulder.
"I should kill you. But the past feeds nothing. So I give you a choice: bend the knee, and you will command your kin under my banner. Rise with us, or die clinging to ash."
Silence.
Then Vokh dropped to one knee.
The Scarsworn, watching from the tree line, slowly followed.
Later that night, as the forges cooled and the stars blinked through the smoke, Gorak stood atop the half-built tower overlooking the river. Drask joined him, silent as ever.
"You think they'll stay loyal?"
"Some will. Some won't," Drask said. "But they all saw what happened today. That speaks louder than bloodlines."
Gorak nodded. The wind was strong. It carried the scent of ash, sweat, and something else—growth.
"We'll name it Ashfang Ford," he said.
Drask raised an eyebrow. "Not Broken Current?"
"Let the past keep its name," Gorak said. "We're planting something new."
Below them, hammers struck stone. The sound of a kingdom rising.