You meet your new neighbors

The impromptu coronation complete, the three of you search among the rubble for anything to help make this space a suitable residence. What the imperial warmongers haven't destroyed, a century of atrophy has taken care of. You were able to find a cellar behind the throne room, in what was probably a store room for festivities at some point. It's hardly befitting a queen, but it will keep her safe, and is an improvement over previous circumstances.

"Well, we got this far" Queen Vercion says out of the blue "Where do we go from here? The three of us can't possibly rebuild a city by ourselves. We could do this for our entire lives and still not make a dent."

"One brick at a time, Your Majesty" you respond with a gentle smile "For now, start with making a space where you can sleep comfortably. We gather our provisions, figure out what's harvestable and huntable, and figure out a plan from there."

"I can always count on you to have a positive outlook, Michael" She responded with a smile in kind.

"It's a long road yet Your Highness, but we'll find a way, so long as we keep the faith in ourselves. My grandfather would always tell me 'Michael, never let the distance between where you are and where you want to be stop you from simple moving foward"

Vercion nodded gently "He sounds like a wise old man"

"He was fond of platitudes, I don't know that I would go further than that" You say with a slight chuckle "That one at least stayed with me."

An awkward silence fills the space, and in that space you hear the beginning of a low rumble outside that all of you focus on.

"Gods, what's that noise?"

"I have a guess, My Queen, but you won't like it" You quickly grab your weapons and hurry out of the throne room. Having retraced your steps, your ordinarily calm horse is neighing and bucking worse than you can remember her doing in years. With some effort, you're able to calm her down; the time spent allowed the cause to become more easily seen with the naked eye.

A warg pack. On top every vicious, wolf-like creature, say a musclebound, tattooed, bloody and dirty barbarous Orc, armed and ready to slay the first thing they see. Based on their sudden change of path, you suspect they've seen you. You don't have the time to grab the Queen and escape, so you fall on instinct. You mount your hoarse with sword and shield, and prepare to make your last stand. They quicken their pace in kind, turning into a charge. Your nerves unfaltering, you make your stand. Of the problems with your plan, this was not in your calculations, you realized, and try to make peace with it in the last seconds.

The leader among them raises an unarmed fist, and the pack stops. Close enough throw a javelin, or an insult. You're uncertain what's happening, but your only exit now blocked, you had no other choice but to wait. Pulling foward from the rest, the leader was a specimen. Female, but more muscular than nearly any human you've met. With the only clothing on her covering her lower regions, you're able to see the litany of scars, a testament to the battle's survived and won, and more besides. Her rusty hair was wound in tight braids and pulled behind her, that nearly reached to her ass.

"Looks like you've gotten lost there soft skin" She says with a mocking tone "You're a long way off from home"

"This is my home" you blurt out without thinking. You could have avoided a confrontation, but your truthful nature is about to get you killed "I mean you no harm."

Your words create a cacophany of laughter among the Orc warpack, some begin drawing their spears, but are restrained by their leader."

"You've spent too long in the sun. This is the home of the Quahorta Orc pack. Any softskin claims to this land died with them"

"Times change" You respond defiantly. Your horse implictly recognizes the growing tension, and starts to move about nervously. "I am sworn to defend this land"

"Typical human arrogance, and from an Imperial dog no less. Go back to your master so that he can put you back on your leash. The runt who thinks himself King of this land"

"He isn't, but I am" You hear clearly behind you. Terror rises up your spine as you turn back to see Vercion, having left her place of safety. You had hoped that even if you died, that she could survive this, but that's gone now. "My name is Vercion Hajjat, the last descendant of the royal line. I do seek to rebuild this kingdom, but I don't want to cause any bloodshed. I don't think you do either Master Orc."

"The pretender Queen has quite the perspective. Such a pretty, naive little thing. Tell me Your Majesty, what causes you to think such a thing?"

"You'd have already killed us both. You've already proven to be less bloodthirsty than stories would have us believe."

"Well, at least someone knows better than to listen to Imperial lies."

"I beg of you, Master Orc, leave us be. We will not interfere with your kind at all. If anything, we would like to help each other, if able. Help us remake this land"

The brazenness of the offer stunned all, especially the leader"

"Orcs helping rebuild a human kingdom? You speak of slavery; what got us into this mess. You must take us as fools."

"Much the reverse. Our shared ancestors worked alongside together, didn't they?" The Queen steps forward slowly "That was part of the reason the Empire sought to destroy my family and this kingdom. Cooperation between our kinds was unacceptable, as they saw it as a threat. When the Intransican Empire marched on this kingdom, on this city, it was the Quahorta Orcs who caused their armies the most trouble. I wish to see the world that my family dreamed of, where centuries of bad blood can be put to rest for the greater good, where a united stand can defy an enemy too great for either of us divided. A land where humans, orcs, and more beside may all call their own, and be seen as true equals to each other."

There is a sea of darting eyes on all sides between the Queen and the pack leader, not a soul dares speak. The pack leader's face contorts in consideration.

"You certainly have the pretty words of a Queen, but you are still a pretender, and there is no benefit for us. We will leave you to your delusions, but there is no cause for the Quahorta Pack to honor the ancient pacts between your kind and mine, and we will not sacrifice ourselves to the fantasies of a well spoken child." She begins to move her warbeast, with the others picking up the hint and following behind, making a wide circle. Before she turns completely, you call out to her again

"If not a promise, then a challenge. Surely any Orc can't refuse that."

The leader stops dead in her tracks, along with her followers. A low murmur sets in. With a strong kick, she leads her beast in a short charge to close the gap, now speaking face to face. Close enough to touch, or kill, one another.

"Careful with your words, softskin. Failure comes at a cost too high for the likes of you to pay"

"I won't" You reply confidently...