Day 18

The orc snorted, shooting a spray of cold mist from her nostrils into the air before her. She hunched forward, stomped the ground so as to impulse herself towards her opponent with tremendous speed. With a threatening snarl she charged forward with all her might, pulling the hilt of her sword back and the point aimed forward and upwards.

Thomas took steps to the side, finding the orc was rushing straight towards him no matter where he moved. He planted his feet next to the cart to stand his grounds, keeping the light of the blade propped against his shoulder and wainting for the exact moment she enters his range.
The orc was nothing like the human bandit, which Thomas had discarded so easily. Her superior reach meant he didn't have a chance to cut her before she cut him first, and the difference in mass and strength meant she could power through any of his defence with minimal effort. A weapon of that size should be slow and unwieldy, but the orc woman merely demonstrated her power by waving it around like a feather.
All this served to deter Thomas little.
As the orc came closer and closer, he kept himself firmly in place, waiting for exactly the right moment...
When that moment came, Thomas did not hesitate but swung his sword in a wide arc, striking the rope keeping the rolled up carpets in place.

When Simon caught wind of what Thomas was doing, he shuffled away from the bandits he had tied up, pulling up his knife and cut the ropes tying the pyramid of carpets together on his side.
The carpets rolled out of the wagon, bouncing on the ground and rolling straight towards the orc lady, who watched them rolling straight towards her. Try as she might to skid to a halt, she was unable to cancel her own momentum and stepped on one of the carpets, tripping on to another.

"RUAAAHHH!?"
All of this ended the only way it could, and she came crashing down into the pile of carpets on the ground, landing covered with a pair of overlapping rugs that rolled out, her butt pointing upwards as her sword slid far away.

Thomas made haste rushing over to the fallen orc, pointing the tip of his sword at her throat as she pushed herself on to her knees, pulling one of the carpets off her head.
"So sorry it had to end like this," Thomas sighed, "But at least it ended. Stand down now. I will not hesitate to cut you down if I have to."
The orc looked up astonished at the blade pointed squarely in her face, and burst out laughing.
"Ahaha!! You've got some moxxy threatening someone with a demonic silver sword, boy! " The orc rose to her feet, making Thomas stagger backwards, "Suppose I was to admit defeat... What were you gonna do to me?"
"Why... Not really sure..." Thomas said as he pondered, "I was just sorta tossed into this situation without knowing what would happen. I suppose we would hand you over to the nearest authorities."
"Thomas, that would be the monster slayers of Farneshold." Simon pointed out, "We've got no intention getting ourselves wrapped up in your spat with the Order. We just want to talk. "

From above Ofelia glides in, landing on the pile, "And to return that cargo to its owner. She's on her way here any minute now."
"Ah, then as long as you release my boys, I accept! This lil fella is too much like my Cornelius!" The orc rests her massive hand on Thomas's shoulder, laughing uproarously.
"I have no idea who this Cornelius is," Thomas said lifting the orc's hand to evade her touchy-feeliness, but she wrapped her arm around Thomas and pulled him to her side, pressing his face against her boob, "...But I wouldn't be so quick to call me a younger version of him. It might not look like it, but I'm 58 years old."
"Ah, then you really can't call you a younger Cornerlius!" The orc announced, "I should rather call you a baby Cornelius! Not nearly tempered enough in the furnace of experience to be our leader, like he was, but crafted from the same ore! Oh, how I long for the day he was still with us, yet many a valuable things were lost on the day the dragon fell upon us!"
"That is precisely what we wished to talk to you about." Ofelia said, "We have been sent here to investigate the alleged dragon attack. If you bore witness to the atrocity, we need to speak to you sooner rather than later."
The orc clasped her hands together,"Then ask away! But I beseech you, not here! Not in the open, in the way of prying eyes and ears. Let us join my brethren instead! Let us go home and tell tales of our heroic battle! And feast together as comrades!"

Thomas tried and failed to wring the orc's arm away and slip under it, "You're not getting the cargo... Or any of us!"
"My boy! I have no intention whatsoever of absconding you of your rightful victory! As they say, victory in truth belongs not to the sportsman, but to the sport!"
"I... Seriously doubt anyone has actually said that." Simon pointed out, as he released the prisoners of their bondage.
"Simon, I don't think she will try and cheat us." Ofelia said, "She might try and prompt Thomas into a rematch, but I don't think she is all about one-upping us or anything like that."
"What you see is what you get!" The orc laughed.
"All right then. Looks like we're following along to your den." Simon faced Thomas, "Congratulations, Thomas. You just won your first fight against a monster girl."
Thomas's face lit up with pure joy upon realising this. Granted, he hadn't actually brought her down to her last drop of mana, but he fought valiantly and made her surrender. That must count for something.
He patted the orc on her thick forearms, "Great fight there! You really got some gumption in you!"

In a secret hideout, the entrance of which lay hidden underneath a large rock protruding out and upwards from the frozen ground in the forest, song and music could be heard.
The guests of the bandits had to be blindfolded as they were brought to their den, and the moment Thomas's blindfold had been lifted, it was as if he found himself in a different world.
At the end of the narrow, earthen hallways lay a great feasting hall adorned fit for any castle. Wood tiles adorned the floor, and statues of pristine marble, like those from times fornlorn, lined up against the walls between the wooden beams acting like pillars. Lanterns hung from the wall nearet the door, casting shadows of the many men, women and monsters dancing in tune to the festive music.
Luaghter and joyful howling mixed with the cheerful whistling from the man with the recorder, a short, portly fellow with thick curly black hair but whose face nonetheless glowed with the flawless features of a handsome man. His whistling was accompanied by the rapid, hollow rhythm of hand drums played by a copper-skinned lamia with long, purple hair tied in a ponytail, while her sister swayed the attention of everyone in the room with agile and bold movements of the waist and hip.

In the center of the room was a table of cherry wood, though one with legs so short that, from a distance, one could wonder if it had legs at all. For on this table, on which a banquette was served, one was meant to be seated on a cushion on the floor. Seated at the table were Bess, who sat at the short end of the table, and her closest boys and girls including Bobby and the doppelgänger, whom they had learned was called Lydia. Thomas was seated there as well, as was Simon and Ofelia. The sheep girl sat on one of the cushions together with Gus, his head resting against her chest as he had fallen soundly asleep with his arms wrapped around his new mistress's body, the furry hand of the sheep girl caressing his chest while beholding her prize lewdly.
Venison. Ribs. Chicken. Creamed potato Skewered meats and vegetables. Everything one could conceivably want that would sate ones tastes was served on the table, except for the wine which became refilled on demand by servants carrying the amphorae. At the center of if all a huge roasted boar with a golden apple in its mouth. Various spices and sauce were present in elegant containers of painted porcelaine and shimmering bronze.

Thomas hadn't been sure what he was expecting, but it sure wasn't this. Overwhelmed by the mix of scents and fragrances, and the music in the background, he was so distracted he hadn't even begun to fill up his plate. He merely watched as the various dishes moved past him as they were passed between the dinner guests around him.
"This is... Uh... Do all bandits live like this?" Thomas asked.
The orc swallowed the chunk from the roasted pig's leg in her hand, which she had torn away with her teeth, "Indeed! Every outlaw lives like a king in their heart! For what lawful man, apart from the king, can go wherever he pleases and do what he likes, fearing no damnation? The difference is how he sees his fellow men; not as servants or subjects beneath him, but as equally a king as him! It's not that we have no heart, boy! It's that our hearts yearn for freedom!"
"So did mine." Thomas declared, "Which is why I left my town and wandered the world. Yet I never saw fit to take from anyone what is not mine."
The orc took a glugg from her goblet, "Nor do we ever take from those with nothing to spare! What use is gold, if it only ever sits in some vault and collects dust? No! It cries out to be spent! It cries out to be with the ones who would part from it so that they may bring joy, even for but one day!"