The trick is successful... It seems...

The efforts of Prince Jason, his persuasion skills and the strain of his magical powers to maintain the magical illusion of an orcish appearance and voice helped influence the fact that the orcish warlord gave some orders that were potentially beneficial to the advancing human army.

Also, this gray-haired orc with a jagged scar across his left eye was a little distracted by fucking the holes of several pretty young human female-slaves...

The prince had to spend a lot of energy to maintain magical concentration on the camouflage spell...

"It seems I don't have much time... I need to finish this trick quickly and return to my troops..." - thought the prince, warily glancing towards the large muscular green-skinned monsters that walked around this camp, holding in their hands terrifying weapons like large spiked maces and two-handed axes.

The blades of the axes were often stained with dried blood...

The problem was that leaving the camp without arousing the suspicions of the orcish patrols was not an easy task (Jason entered the camp under the cover of night darkness - but now the morning dawn would soon arrive).

Jason was **** to spend some time waiting for an opportune moment and searching for the least risky route to leave the orcish camp.

Walking through the tall grass and bushes, Jason relievedly releases the magical concentration he had been maintaining on the spell of the illusory appearance.

The rough voices of the orc patrols are heard from somewhere behind!

The next moment, the prince is **** to fall among the tall grass and begin to crawl forward quietly, trying not to make any noticeable noise.

However, after ten minutes, Jason hears loud sounds coming from ahead...

It is... the clatter of hooves of many horses!

"Damn! Why so early?! After all, at the military council yesterday it was mentioned that our troops would reach this area only by midday?!" - the prince thinks in panic.

Probably, in the absence of the prince, the action plans of the eborvairian troops have undergone some changes...

Apparently, the pace of movement of the troops has clearly become faster.

Jason kept the information about his trick with the use of magical abilities to deceive the enemy a secret for his court advisers.

He could not act otherwise...

The reasons are that not only it is impossible to reveal too much detail about the prince's magical abilities (this will give rise to natural questions in many - where did these magical abilities come from?), it is also impossible to openly talk about the prince's risky escapade - after all, this would simply cause categorical rejection by all his subordinates.

"I want to go to the enemy camp and magically take the form of an orc in order to misinform the enemy commander!" - if the prince had said something like that to his dignitaries and advisors, they would have done everything possible to ensure that this intention would not come true (and they would also have begun to doubt the prince's mental health...). After all, this plan is extremely risky for the fate of one of the heirs to the throne of the kingdom.

Therefore, Jason did not tell anyone about his bold intention to disrupt the enemy's plans.

The prince expected to return to his troops' camp early in the morning, before the troops began their march forward. After successfully misleading the orcish command, Jason intended to give specific instructions to his troops (the prince ended yesterday's war council meeting on a compromise note, not clearly stating the priority of one of the three plans of action for the troops).

However, it is now obvious that the prince's disappearance has set in motion a sequence of unforeseen events...

A group of mounted knights rushed past Jason at great speed, their long spears raised for an attack.

The horses' hooves almost touched the prince's body, who was crawling among the grass.

Fear in the prince's mind flared up powerfully like a flame on a haystack of dry straw...

"Fuck... I'm now in the epicenter of the battle! I must move forward quickly - otherwise I will simply be trampled by the horses' hooves!" - the prince's thoughts are permeated with fears for his life.

It turned out that the bold plan to deceive the enemy led to an extremely risky situation for the prince himself.

Enraged cries of orc warriors ahead...

The sound of a powerful blow...

The grinding of metal...

Howl of hellish pain...

The prince crawls forward faster and faster...

Something falls to the left of his shoulder...

Jason turns around and sees... a disgusting thing...

It is a severed hand.

A large orcish throwing axe hit a small gap between the metal of the armor and completely separated the flesh and bone from the rest of the body.

"In our army there are about two hundred heavily armed mounted knights... Are they all going to attack in this direction now?! If so, then... am I doomed?!" Jason thinks, not stopping to crawl forward.

A few more mounted knights gallop past the place where the prince is on the ground.

Luckily, for some reason, there aren't that many of these knights yet...

The screams and shouts of the orcs are getting louder...

The stamping of feet...

Loud noises from all directions...

Several small javelins fall to the ground next to Jason, their tips buried in the ground.

Someone runs ahead, clanking chainmail...

A group of foot militia warriors charge, holding out their spears and shields.

Before the prince can call for help, someone steps painfully on his left hand with a boot.

The prince continues to crawl forward...

The brutal and bloody battle between the orcs and human warriors is becoming more and more massive with each passing second...

Scavenger-birds circle in the sky, anticipating their abundant food...

The whistle of arrows...

One of the arrows pierces the gastrocnemius muscle of Jason's right leg.

The prince's cry of pain is almost inaudible over the cacophony of loud noises.

Finally, after twenty minutes, Jason is able to crawl to a slightly safer place.

More precisely, it is a "conditionally safe" place...

Armed lines of militia-warriors walk through the grass, rushing to attack.

Arrows are visible in the sky, flying from the forest.

Arrows fall near the militia-warriors: many of them manage to cover themselves with shields. But some are wounded and fall to the ground, screaming in pain.

Lightly wounded militia-warriors help evacuate seriously wounded warriors to the rear.

The prince crawls to a group of warriors who are covering a stretcher with shields with a man who has lost consciousness due to blood loss. This guy-pleb, dressed in an old slightly rusty iron chainmail, is unlikely to survive - he has two orcish arrows stuck in his chest (one arrow - closer to the left shoulder, the second arrow - almost in the center of the chest).

Obviously, cheap and low-quality chainmail was poor protection...