At the camp, the orcs took a well deserved rest. Most of the men went to sleep or to nurse their wounds, with their wives and other women folk assisting them. But for Malakaus and a few others, their work had just started. The orc tribes of this area had a specialty that Malakaus purposely sought them out for, and it wasn't for their scouting or swordsmanship; it was their proficiency with smithing. A rare talent for people who dwell in swamps, but they often harvested iron from the bogs and occasional vein hidden within the murky depths, and their ability to work with such crude metals and turn them into effective weapons is something that Malakaus wanted from them. Their issue had always been gaining access to higher quality metal, but now that isn't an issue thanks to the battlefield plunder. The men, including Malakaus, quickly got to work constructing field forges to smelt the metal into ingots, stripping wood and leather from the weapons and armor to save for later. The siege weapons they took had also been broken down to their base components so that they could be repurposed at a later date, either as siege weapons once more or something else entirely.
Malakaus of course couldn't stay up for long. As much as he wanted to continue working his mother soon pulled him away in order to get his wounds tended to. He tried to hide it but his mother knew how hurt he was, so he had to rest that night. Fortunately by the time morning came, his camp was abuzz with activity. Any steel that wasn't claimed as a trophy was being smelted down into ingots so they could later be proceeded into more orcish weaponry. The men went on their patrols to ensure their camp was safe, while the chiefs and commanders went back to their clan to report of their success. With the two clans under Malakaus's loyalty, he had a more reliable army than just his own clan. Which of course he still needed to deal with as well; right now he was acting as the impromptu warlord, and without the chief's backing Malakaus wasn't sure how long he could continue his campaign. But once he finishes his talks with Maren, Malakaus knew he could return and make a solid claim for himself. "Ah politics. A more dangerous battlefield than war to be sure." The half-orc grumbled as he went to get himself something to eat.
Meanwhile Malakaus's messenger was still within the city. He had rested outside for a while before entering the city at first dawn. Wasn't long before the guards approached him but he did not falter. He remained polite but firm in his singular request: He needed to see Maren Trevoste and deliver his message to her directly. He would not divulge the information to anyone else. Most of the guards were wary; they knew the orcs had helped them, but for what reason they didn't know, and the messenger certainly wasn't telling. The only thing they could do was escort the lone warrior towards the temple where he could wait for Maren to find him. Even so they didn't let him go alone, with at least four guards escorting him along the way. However compared to the warrior they were scrawny and scared; the orc himself wore tough looking armor and had an axe and a sword on his belt, brutish yet effective in it's design. Soon they approached the temple and before the soldiers could go the orc spoke up loudly.
"Where is Maren Trevoste? I have a message for her from my warlord. It is an urgent message for her safety and everyone else's."
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