◈ Chapter 96:

The small bearded Orc stared at the bag on Lyra’s hip and then at the fistful of gold clutched in Opal’s fingers. He shifted his center of balance, his body language morphing in real time, becoming more open, relaxed, inviting, swift merchant math changing the calculus of the situation.

 

“You have an eye for the more exquisite pieces of craftsmanship young Goblin. This sword, Rockheart, spite of the soul, blade of masters, you won't find anything quite like this from an Orcish warsmith, no, this came from outside our clan, from the Dwarves and their mountain Mega City riddled throughout the skysplitter mountain range. Those misty halls and ancient castles are of course all ruins now sadly, but the survivors still live on within, the great half-mile forges still light the night, the mountain faces bathed in orange-red. It is quite the stirring sight I mu-.”

 

“If this is going to be more bullshit stories with fake swords and lies like last time then I’m going to have to get my Boner out,” said Opal crossing her arms.

 

The merchant blinked at her wondering if he had misheard what she had just said.

 

“Your… what?”

 

“My Boner. It’s magic.”

 

“The whorehouse is over there if you have need???”

 

“She, ah, is referring to a counterfeit detector, not an, ahem, actual pe- something.”

 

“...I see. Well there is no need for that, this is all above board and legitimate, see it even comes with a Dwarven certificate of authenticity, you can't fake these.”

 

Opal took the produced paper from the Orc and studied it furiously, eyes darting left right left right, suspicion clear in her expression. After a moment she finished and nodded her head in confirmation, satisfied. Then she looked up.

 

“Yep. I still don't know how to read. Boner!”

 

The Orc spluttered and snatched back the certificate.

 

“Gods! I simply cannot deal with dimwitted slave Goblins, why on earth people insist on sending them shopping…” He cleared his throat and turned to Lyra who raised a brow in question.

 

“This sword would obviously be at a reasonable price-”

 

“More!?” said Opal behind him

 

“Yes, only a few times more, but one such as yourself would sure-

 

“I’m here for a map not a sword, remember?” interrupted Lyra.

 

“And remember I am? Red! More gold!”

 

Lyra ignored Opal and placed her hand over the strings of the dimensional bag preventing it from being opened.

 

“Map please.”

 

The merchant eyed the sheep girl, analysing her as a potential customer. Not seeing what he hoped for he changed tact.

 

“Hmm. Yes, we do have maps, excellent ones if I do say so myself. Very well.” 

 

The merchant returned the elegant broadsword to the stack and moved past it leaving an angry Opal with her arms spread in outrage. She was of course ignored, and the merchant began sorting through a pile of papers and sheets, many appearing aged and worn.

 

Lyra peered at them, then at the Orc.

 

“You seem… different for an Orc, if you don't mind me saying, uhm, a little vertically challenged?”

The Orc continued to rummage “Well, my Father is a Dwarf. How do you think I have an in with the Dwarven traders? Ain't no one else around here that can get gear like I can. It’s made it easy to become the biggest purveyor of the clan, as much as it pisses off certain pure bloods.”

 

“And your Mother?”

 

“Yes, she is an Orc, a big ‘un, as you can imagine that makes my father a brave and courageous Dwarf, fearless even, heart like a lion, balls the size of mountains, and much like mountains he’d have needed to hike up my Mothe-”

 

“Yes! yes! I understand! please god stop talking!”

 

“Ah, apologies for that, I forget us Orcish folk care little for ideas of the city, best to keep things out and naked in the open we say. Ah, here we go.”

 

He pulled a browned with age map from the bottom of the stack, its edges curled and torn, spots of ink speckled across its surface.

 

Lyra examined the held map, not even bothering to reach out. 

 

“This map looks terrible, is this really the best you have? Look, it barely shows anything!”

 

“Terrible! Terrible, she says. Oh no no no. Sheepy you have no idea what this is, do you?”

 

Lyra frowned, unsure what he was getting at. Then her brow rose in understanding.

 

“It’s… enchanted?”

 

A broad smile broke over the Half-Orc’s face, flashing her a set of perfect sturdy white teeth.

 

“Watch.” He lifted a finger to the map's surface and gently dragged it across the paper. As his finger moved the map moved with it, the intricately illustrated roads and forests and mountains and hills moving with his finger, more and more land appearing on one side of the map as more disappeared on the other, like a moving birds eye view. 

 

“That seems like it might be quite useful.” said Lyra, viciously clamping down on her excitement and schooling her expression flat.

 

“Oh you have no idea, look you can even use two fingers and…” the Half-orc placed his stubby index and thumb on the surface and pulled them together. The map pulled out, showing more, the more intricate details fading, showing a broader but less detailed map.

 

Lyra twitched.

 

“H-how much?”

 

The Half-Orc gave her a smug look. “Oh, just a measly three hundred gold. I do recognise what that particular item is on your hip sheepy, not just anyone has one of those.”

 

“You think I’m- oh no, you don't understand… it’s, oh god, I-”

 

It was now the Half-Orc’s turn to frown in confusion. “What are you saying girl?”

 

“It’s my Mother’s, I had to run away from home, they beat and abused me every day for what I am, for who I am, for not being a pure blood! I’m just a worthless half! The unwanted spawn of a drunken fling of my Mother with some evil seducer of an Elf! You know what Elves are like! The Woolie clan hated me from the day I was born, they kept me in the basement. Then they used me as bait when they went into the dungeons! I was never allowed to level up until I ran away... I’m- I’m sorry but I’m not what you think I am, I’m just an escaped half breed!” Lyra raised her hand to her eyes and wiped away the tears that had fallen across her cheek. 

 

She subtly lifted her hoof out of sight of the merchant and kicked Kel who had been standing behind her in the knee. Kel yelped and the Half-orc’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes narrowing as Kel desperately tried not to move too much for fear of the centipedes.

 

“Ah, uhm, y-yes! The Half-woolie speaks the truth Braur, I can vouch for that, a friend of mine helped her escape and I’m, well, looking after her for the moment… the situation is, ah, not good,”

 

Lyra put her hand behind her back and brought her index and thumb together in a pincer motion.

 

“It’s tragic? Yes, tragic! SO SAD!” yelped Kel, his voice rising several octaves in pitch.

 

“So you see, like you, I have suffered because of all the bigotry against us, we are the same you and I, allies, and really what ally would make an ally in need pay a whole three hundred gold, that would be remarkably cruel, callus, merciless- I- I’m not sure if I can go on, there's times when the future has been s-so d-dark-” Lyra buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

 

The Half-orc raised a hand in protest as other nearby Orcs started to look over, wondering why there was a girl loudly crying her eyes out in his shop.

 

“Wait hold on a sec now sheepy-”

 

“Sheepy! That's what my mother called me because I wasn't a real Woolie!” bawled Lyra in hopeless misery.

 

“But didn't the Gob-” Lyra wailed, “-Gods, godsdammit, this isn't-” he sighed, “Fine, half, one fifty, discounted for a half in need.”

 

“One hundred!” sobbed Lyra.

 

The Half-orc’s eye twitched. “One hundred,” he ground out. “And don't let anyone ever say I don't care, cause I do.”

 

The bag on lyra’s hip opened and gold coins started being shoveled out onto the ground. Lyra snatched the map as the Half-orc bent down to gather them, a pleased expression on her face quickly hidden. The Half-orc returned to his feet, the gold clutched in his arms. He gave Kel a careful look.

 

“You make sure she’s okay, yeah? If she isn't, I'll ban you from my shop. Look after this one.”

 

A very specific kind of internal screaming momentarily crossed Kel’s face.

 

“Y-yes. I shall do that.” He managed to croak out after a moment.

 

“I also have a tragic story!” said a voice.

 

The Half-orc turned to find Opal. 

 

“I’m sad too, so give me a discount!”

 

The Half-Orc looked over the Goblin in disgust.

 

“No. You’re lucky enough I don't just bash your brains out for my levels. No discounts for Goblin slaves. It’s a rule.”

 

“Tch.” Opal set her lips in a line and thrust out her hands. 

 

In one hand was the gold, in the other an unusual looking thorny rapier dangling from her fingers with a pair of gloves balanced on top. The gloves were a little oversized but still suitable, an Orc child’s gloves armoured with a few plates of metal on the top side. The merchant gave her a sour look but plucked several coins from her hand.

 

As that was happening Lyra quickly furled the map and held it by the dimensional bag. After a moment a red scaled set of claws took hold of it and carefully pulled it inside. “Better sheepy, but gold is still way better than dumb magic maps…” came a dark mutter as it disappeared. 

 

“Having that will let us find more gold otherwise we’ll be stuck in the middle of nowhere forever with no gold anywhere. It’s called an investment Red, you need to spend money to make money,” Lyra whispered down at the bag. “If you had ever learned some basic business savvy you’d have had gold to sleep on a long time ago you know.”

 

The reply was an unintelligible grumble that disappeared as the bag closed.

 

Opal skipped ahead as they left the shop, Braur already moving on to his next customers the moment they were gone. However she paused once they were out of view and gave Lyra the side eye.

 

“So, uh, was any of that true?”

 

“Hmm, what do you think?”

 

“I do like you a lot sometimes sheepy,” grinned back Opal.

 

Kel looked between the pair, “Lies, lies and more lies! just like you lied about Lynthia, you’re like a pair of evil trickster snakes trying to lead Orcs along by the nose.”

 

“I wasn’t lying about Lynthia, it really is gone. I suppose you’ll find out when you see it eventually, or what's left of it.”

 

“Stop lying, we know it's fine, we wouldn't have come here if we didn't know that!” 

 

“Well maybe your source is wrong.”

 

“They literally called us to come as it was a town ripe to be taken, no Orc would call on their clan for a ruin!”

 

Opal suddenly paused and glanced up at Kel.

 

“Like with a giant hammer?”

 

“What? What was that?”

 

“Nothing, I didn't say anything.”

 

Kel’s voice became slightly strained, “You said hammer, a giant hammer, why would you say that? Tell me!”

 

“Oh it was just this Orc, female, very fighty, no big deal.”

 

Kel’s eyes widened, “You- you know, but that is-” he drew in a calming breath, “How do you know her?”

 

“Mm, she enslaved me for a bit, but then she changed her ways and came with us.”

 

“She’s… with you?” said Kel, increasingly puzzled.

 

“Yup. She changed her ways from being a whole Orc into lots of bite sized pieces of Orc. You were so close to her when you were being held in the air.”

 

“I’m… n-not sure I understand what you are s-suggesting…” but Kel’s face became a little paler and more fearful as he stared at the innocently smiling Goblin.

 

As they had walked they had gone from the merchant area of the camp to a spot where catering had thrown down stakes. They passed by roasting pits and braziers and great yard wide frying pans, everything from rats to foxes to entire cows being made into food for hungry Orcs. It wasn't hard to see why they had had trouble finding prey for Rain, the Orcs had been hunting. Unfortunately whatever it was the Orcs were doing to the meat it smelled absolutely terrible, adding its own particular flavour to the miasma of bad smells.

 

Opal’s stomach grumbled as they passed by.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Yes… but this smells really weird…”

 

“It’s not weird, that’s Orcish cooking, and it’s great,” muttered Kel.

 

“I’ll have to side with Kel on this one, despite the, ah, interesting smell, it is quite good… if you drink lots of beer while eating it. And drink lots of beer afterward so you forget what you just put in your mouth. It’s… an experience. I recommend it!”

 

Opal gave Lyra a dubious look as the sheep girl moved up to one of the many cooking stalls, one with a brawny female Orc tending a fire. Opal noted that there was a large greatsword by the fire, looking around she realised that all of the Orcs, even those preparing food had weapons nearby or on them. She scratched her chin and then elbowed Kel.

 

“Hey, hey, why do even the Orc cooks have swords and things?”

 

“S-stop elbowing me!” said Kel desperately trying to avoid having a centipede squished in his armour. After a flustered moment he scowled back at her. “Yes, everyone has a weapon on them at all times, that’s how it is without cowardly walls, it's why Orcs are superior, we face the wild like the gods intended.”

 

“That’s not unique to Orcs you know,” murmured Lyra as she paid the Orc cook.

 

“Hmm.”

 

Opal raised her now engloved hands and flexed the fingers, the leather wrinkling as she formed fists, plated on the topside. The gloves were oversized, the glove holes baggy around her wrists, but that didn't stop her from grabbing the rapier. The rapier was significantly more dangerous and threatening looking than her previous one with needle thin thorns speckled up its length and punch spikes on the basket. Everything about it was exceptionally razor sharp and barbed and looked liable to cut the wielder if they slipped.

 

Opal examined it down length, checking it wasn’t bent. Pleased with what she found she nodded her head. “Hey this is a pretty good sword, maybe that dumb seller leveler didn't know what he had.”

 

“He was part Dwarf Opal, he would know what’s good and what isn't when it comes to weapons. I’m sure he has weapons from everywhere too, that hardly looks like something an Orc might wield.”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” said Opal, waving the thorn rapier experimentally. “That’s the second time I’ve seen someone name their weapon you know. Rockheart, spite of the soul. That’s the kind of name to make my enemies shit themselves.”

 

She held up the rapier and waggled it in the air.

 

“I shall call this The Spiker. Because It is spikey.”

 

“That’s not a very scary name Opal.”

 

“Eh, I guess. It just needs a name to make a shiver go up my enemies’ spines, something that's really really scary.”

 

“Call it The Sounder.” said Lyra.

 

Kel made a strangled sound and nearly tripped over his own feet. Behind them an Orc choked on his food and fell off his chair with a crash. An Orc who had been walking nearby drew in sharp breath and placed his hands over his crotch protectively, taking a defensive step back, many more Orcs flinched and stared in their direction.

 

Opal looked around in surprise at the reaction. “What? What does that word mean?”

 

She experimentally held the razor sharp thorny rapier out and jabbed it toward the Orc covering his groin. Unfortunately due to their height difference the rapier was being pointed directly at the Orc’s privates. The Orc let out a very un-orcish sound and stumbled backwards, his face terrified, swiftly putting a stall between himself and Opal.

 

She narrowed her eyes at the fleeing Orc. “Why are they so scared?”

 

Kel managed to find his balance and carefully checked over his body to make sure the centipedes hadn't bitten him anywhere. Then he turned on Lyra, a mixed expression of outrage and horror on his face.

 

“It was a joke!” said Lyra.

 

“How do you even know about something like that?!”

 

“I- I’m from a city! Why are you all staring at me like that! S-stop it!”

 

“Tell me what it means!” demanded Opal.

 

“Go on, tell her.” said Kel, crossing his arms.

 

“I- I can’t! We-we’re in p-public!” whisper hissed Lyra, blushing.

 

“Fine. Sounder it is.” said Opal. An involuntary shudder went through the male Orcs around them and they eyed the very sharp and thin and thorny rapier very uncomfortably. 

 

Opal squinted at them suspiciously.

 

The female Orc who had been serving them pushed what appeared to be a pile of green chicken legs across the counter and Lyra grabbed them up and hurried away, eager to get away from the horrified male gaze.

 

Once they’d made it some distance away she handed a leg to Opal. Then, hesitantly, handed one to Kel. 

 

“I’m not eating that.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I’m a prisoner, that's prison food.”

 

“Prison food from your own clan?”

 

“...”

 

Lyra rolled her eyes and thrust the leg into his hands.

 

“You’re going to have to get used to your current situation, it's not like you can do anything about it.” 

 

She pushed the Orc’s hand up, getting him to reluctantly eat and then she turned to explain to Opal why it was a bad idea and really not civilised to call her spiky rapier The Sounder.

 

The Goblin wasn't there however.