Chapter 67: Mythical Ogre

In truth, long before the Asa tribe of Powhatan Village crossed the river to scout the north, the upper echelons of the Conquest Order had already dispatched scouts and spies across the southern banks of the Great River in a far more covert manner. Their mission was to gather intelligence, chart detailed maps, and lay the groundwork for the Order's expansion toward the southern shores of the Yifen River.

Chaniquay the Soul Thief was one such scout, belonging to the Conquest Order, who wandered the dense forests south of Yifen for years. He knew the local terrain far better than his direct superior, Shaman the Serpent-Hand.

Led by Chaniquay, Shaman marched forward at the head of a formidable force comprised of three hundred Withered Branch Fiends, two hundred Withered Needle Fiends, and no fewer than a hundred Withered Vine Fiends. They progressed along the riverbank toward the west, and after two days’ journey, finally drew near their destination—a valley inhabited by ogre clans.

The valley lay deep within the riverside forest. Early last century, the ancestors of the Shrek family settled and multiplied here, naming their domain Deepwood Valley—a name Shaman found fitting, its simplicity and lack of imagination perfectly matched the ogres’ own minds.

Dense vegetation encircled Deepwood Valley; tall trees were interspersed with thickets, and innumerable sentries lurked in both the branches and the shrubs. Given the ogres’ bulky forms, neither climbing nor stealth suited them—thus, the perimeter sentries were mostly members of weaker tribes conquered by Shrek the Great and his warriors, chiefly half-orcs and goblins.

Applying his Eagle-Eye spell from several miles away, Shaman observed the diligent half-orc sentries and goblin scouts patrolling the forest, and couldn't help but feel a measure of admiration for the self-styled “Wise King” of the ogres.

It was well-known that ogres were hardly a disciplined race. Their brains seemed inversely proportional to their muscle mass; stupidity and belligerence defined them. Most ogres, whether on the battlefield or at work, could only perform the simplest tasks; anything more complex left them confused. Expecting them to cooperate on a grand project was futile—their gatherings bred chaos and trouble exponentially, as they preferred brawling to teamwork.

Considering the typical behavior of ogres, Shaman doubted whether a thousand ogres truly lived here. The valley betrayed no signs of disorder. Ogre warriors wore uniform leather armor, shouldered finely forged spiked clubs, and patrolled the main avenue leading from the valley to the riverbank in disciplined formations, marching like a trained army.

“Shrek rules his domain, subjects, and slaves with iron discipline, bringing astonishing order to Deepwood Valley. Here, whether noble ogres or servant half-orcs, jungle gnomes, or goblins, all revere their king and, under his arrangement, fulfill their assigned roles,” Chaniquay whispered as he drew near, reporting faithfully to his master.

“Shrek selects the five hundred strongest and most aggressive ogres from his tribe, bestowing upon them the title of ‘warrior.’ These warriors form the core of his campaigns, conquering neighboring tribes year after year. He promises the conquered that, provided they acknowledge him as king, perform labor, and pay tribute, they will be spared from ending up as ogre rations. They may live in peace as before, and receive protection from the Shrek Warriors when threatened by invaders or wild beasts.”

“Hah, the fellow does show a touch of kingly demeanor,” Shaman commented, half mocking, half admiring.

“To the truly powerful, Shrek’s methods may seem commonplace, but half-orcs and goblins are scarcely smarter than ogres and were easily subdued, content to become vassals. Shrek exploits these slaves fully—recruiting half-orcs as low-ranking soldiers, employing skilled jungle gnomes to forge weapons and armor, tan leather, and manufacture dangerous alchemical items like flaming resin, thunderstones, and smoke bombs. Even the cowardly goblins have found their purpose under his rule.”

“Shrek has created a special unit: he picks the strongest ogres, equips them with full plate armor and enormous iron barrel backpacks. Three or four militarily trained goblins ride inside each barrel, using it as a shield while launching attacks with crossbows, spears, and alchemical bombs—they’re like human-shaped armored war machines!” Chaniquay exclaimed with exaggerated praise.

“He understands how to command his subordinates and trains his troops well. Shrek indeed deserves the title ‘Wise King,’” Shaman replied coolly.

Just then, a bright horn sounded from the opposite valley, followed by alarm bells. The patrols on the main road and scouts in the shrubbery all snapped into alert.

Through his magical vision, Shaman saw this and surmised their force had been detected by Deepwood Valley’s sentries. To avoid unnecessary conflict, he signaled Chaniquay to negotiate with the ogres and explain their intentions.

Chaniquay, reluctant to deal with the unreasonable ogres, dared not defy his master’s will and flew out nervously. Luck favored him—the ogre warrior in charge was in a good mood, listened patiently, and allowed him to stay put while he reported back.

Twenty minutes later, Chaniquay returned with a female ogre dressed as an envoy to Shaman.

The female ogre squinted her tiny eyes and sized up Shaman for quite some time. Just as the Withered One’s patience wore thin, she broke the silence, declaring in what she deemed elegant diplomatic language that Shrek the Great was greatly displeased by their unauthorized entry, but, magnanimous in principle, would not punish them—provided Shaman immediately proceeded to the king’s castle to state his purpose and justify his intrusion.

After her formal speech, the envoy emphasized, “The king permits you to bring only one servant to the audience. The ugly half-man, half-tree monsters behind you must remain here under our watch and must not make any move!”

Shaman came seeking favor from the ogre lord and was mentally prepared for harsh treatment. He nodded calmly, complied, and left the Withered Fiend battalion behind, bringing only Chaniquay as he followed the envoy into Deepwood Valley.

The envoy led Shaman and his retainer to a large open cart drawn by herbivorous dinosaurs. Before boarding, she produced a pair of leather blindfolds, insisting they wear them to prevent spying on the valley’s military facilities.

Shaman frowned, his eyes flashing with anger. After brief consideration, he silently donned the blindfold, his lips curling into a sardonic smile. Meanwhile, the venomous snake transplanted onto his left arm quietly poked its head from his sleeve, observing the surroundings outside the cart. Through the snake’s vision, Shaman could examine the architecture around him despite his covered eyes.

The cart traveled straight along a broad, smooth avenue toward the castle perched on the high slopes of the deep valley. On either side stood buildings laid out in a grid as precise as a chessboard; the streets were spotless, nothing like the filthy dens ogres were known for.

Passing through the ogre nobles’ residential district, Shaman saw mostly stone-built mansions. The servants’ quarters were rows of simple wooden huts for centralized management, while the barracks and warehouses, also made of stone blocks, appeared sturdy. Shrek’s manor stood atop a hill, a grand three-story fortress of rock, looming like a gray giant surveying the valley.

After entering the castle gates, the female ogre—Shrek’s chamberlain—removed the blindfolds, escorting Shaman and Chaniquay to the first-floor dining hall for an audience with Shrek the Great.

The ogre lord sat at the center of a long table, enjoying dinner with a close confidant. Shrek’s skin was tinged yellow-green, his stature exceeding even the usual ogre, so that sitting he was still taller than Shaman standing. He wore a loose golden robe, his round, chubby face resembling a winter melon. His bald head was utterly hairless, and his signature ogre features—tiny eyes, flat nose, wide mouth, and a pair of flared ears like trumpets—made him appear quite endearing, yet his gaze was tinged with melancholy. Shaman could not tell whether this reflected inner concerns or an affectation of depth.

Shaman also noticed that Shrek's plate held an entire roasted pig, and the table was set with honey wine brewed by gnomes. In his eating habits, the “Wise King” had abandoned the ogres’ primal tradition, resembling instead a nobleman of a civilized nation.

The confidant dining with Shrek wore an ornate brocade robe and a wide-brimmed hat adorned with vibrant feathers. His appearance was more refined and slim than typical ogres, his skin reflected a pale blue sheen in the candlelight, and his elegant manner set him apart from the usual coarse ogres.

As Shaman entered the dining hall, Shrek’s confidant set aside his knife and fork, picked up a lute, and sang a welcoming poem.

“Master, the one playing the lute is named Cassio. He’s an ogre sorcerer and Shrek’s most favored court poet,” Chaniquay whispered in Shaman’s ear. “Best not offend that self-important jester—he never misses a chance to whisper slander in Shrek’s ear.”

Shaman nodded in understanding. No wonder the man seemed odd—a bard-sorcerer among ogres.

“Ogre sorcerer” here did not mean an ogre who had gained a spellcasting profession, but rather referred to a subspecies—perhaps ‘high ogre’ was more accurate. Their appearance and stature were closer to humans, their minds sharper, and they possessed innate magical power. To Shaman, Cassio, a bard advanced as a high ogre, clearly possessed great strength, yet remained content to serve as a court attendant to Shrek. This spoke to the extraordinary charisma of the king he served, truly worthy of the mythic ogre title.