Orcs are the same as any other race in this world, they all carry around a heavy burden, in the case of the green skin people, theirs is a long and storied history of violence and war, long ago they were feared, much like the evil masterminds of the Zafrir, though in a different way. The orcs inspired dread upon their victims as mindless killers, as war-spawn fiends whose only purpose was to satiate their lust for carnage on the battlefield.
They would raze and rape any bastion of civilization found in their path towards conquest at the orders of their masters like the good war hounds they were, people in the shape of a pointy, sharp lance that once set towards a direction would single-mindedly, almost obsessively follow orders, no questions asked... not a shred of remorse felt.
One such member of this barbaric species, a lone representative of this once ago war bound race was now sitting at the front of a cart in the middle of the night at the edge of the palace's garden, the cold night breeze blows making the threes in the distant forest sway back and forth as he watches the mountains come to life. He stands near one of the back entrances he often uses when at work, he plays with the reins of the beast in front of him, a robust, long-necked animal twice as wide as a pureblood horse, only it's three heads shorter and with a noticeably more muscular complexion, the orcs position allows him a good view of the muscles and veins popping through the dark short pelt of the Ba'ghor one of the most popular mounts in the mountainous region of Ezohr thanks to their agility that lets them move far more easily than any horse through the harsh Ezohrian terrain, as well as being strong enough to carry 3 full orcs in chain mail, as it had been proven time and again, but arguably the best quality of this animal is their docile nature which makes them easy to train and use, all of this makes the Ba'ghor the preferred Orcish mount.
And much like the animal he rides, Henry is a stoic man, the people around him think of this young orc as an unmovable stone statue, he barely speaks and almost never shows any emotion besides the occasional irritation that's usually not easily differentiated from his normal default expression, a smile has yet to be witnessed by even his closest associates and many think it may be biologically impossible for him.
His no-nonsense attitude is another of his much speculated about features, it's said that one time a drunken, belligerent giant got angry at him and started to look for a fight.
"I'm going to squeeze you until your inners pop out like a rotten fruit!" According to supposed eyewitnesses, that's what the giant tried to say, though it mostly came out as "Ihg g'ing te sqzze u t'ill ya pop laik frut"
Slurred speech or not, any normal person would apologize and leave immediately in an attempt not to provoke any further a 4-meter killing machine, but he only grunted and walked straight past him, apparently being unable to spare the giant any care.
Of course, the gossip corps got a hold of this juicy story and spread it around the palace in record time, Henry heard the rumors and didn't bother to correct them.
This may prove useful
He thought at the time, people would probably stay further away from him. The only time he ever looks remotely content is while carrying on his duties as a gardener of the palace since it's while he is working that people tend to leave him alone, no one to pester him for silly favors nor any superiors bossing him around. Just the lone orc and the garden's flowers.
You could say that despite not having been raised among his kind, the stoic, reserved and honorable nature of the reborn orc race is well and truly alive within him. This honorable nature is what compelled him to accept a favor asked of him, he may not want to, but if it's in the interest of the kingdom, Henry will do it, the more honorably he behaves the more respect he will earn.
Even so, the moment he laid his eyes on a little Zafrir girl being carried by the famous deer-kin and realizing there probably wasn't any other child Zafrir in the world much less one that would need to be escorted by the elite maids of Escilax towards a carriage late at night, and that this was truly the miracle princess, his stoic, reserved and honorable facade crumbled.
Even more embarrassing to him was that his shock had translated to his face... if Annette's laugh was anything to go by.
"Don't worry, we don't bite, at least I don't… yet," Elizabeth said to him in a successful teasing attempt.
