The captured orc scout sat bound but dignified in Arthur's command tent, yellow eyes tracking every movement with the wariness of a predator forced into submission.
Through his bond with Beatrice, Arthur could feel her intellectual excitement echoing across the miles—this was the first real test of her cultural research in practice.
"His name is Grashk Iron-Fist," Arthur said to Hawklight, accessing knowledge that flowed seamlessly through his connection to Beatrice. "Scout-leader of a Bloodfang patrol. And he's going to tell us everything we need to know about their stronghold."
"Want me to handle the interrogation?" Hawklight asked, hand resting on his enhanced blade.
Arthur shook his head. Through Beatrice's shared knowledge, he understood the cultural significance of what was about to happen. This wasn't just intelligence gathering—it was the foundation of everything they hoped to build.
"Bring him to my tent. Alone."
