Courtiers
Ognara leaned across a round wooden table in the middle of her family’s common room. Behind her, a hearth fire crackled under an iron cookpot. A hearty stew boiled within it, and smells of salt, pepper, barley, oats, and lamb filled the air. “My dear son,” she began. “Have I ever told you about Lanthrak Tal Orka Gol’oth?”
“Only every night!” giggled Ortog. “He was my…” Briefly, he gazed up at the ceiling. “My quan-dupple-great grandfather!”
“That’s right.” Ognara smiled lovingly. “Your quadruple-great grandfather.”
“I like ‘thrice-great-great-grandfather’, personally,” Orgroth chuckled.
“But quan-dupple is better,” Ortog insisted.
“Why is that?”
“Papa.” Ortog stood on his stool, arms akimbo, with a smirk and his head tilted to one side. “Because it sounds better. Mom thinks so, too. Right, Mom?”
“So much better,” she teased.
“Outvoted again,” Orgroth snorted. “Sit down and eat your stew, young man.”
Ortog nodded and sat back down.
Orgroth perked up. Dogs barked furiously from the south. “Do you hear that?”
“Bandits, I bet.” Ognara moved to the door, opened the vision panel, and peered outside. “Stupid ones too, by the look of it. Lamps and torches make for easy targets, lads. I’ll have a word with Laidir when this is over. He never sounded the alarm.”
“Get your crossbow and take position on the roof.” Orgroth grabbed his axes and looked at his son. “Hide under your bed.”
“Blend in, and don’t come out until one of you two gets me out!” Ortog hopped down from his stool. “I remember about bandits.” He dashed into his room and vanished under his mattress.
“That’s my boy!” Ognara pulled the crossbow down from its perch over the hearth and loaded it. Orgroth shed his shirt, and his skin shifted to camouflage him. He crouched near the door with his axes in hand. He looked puzzled. “No cries of alarm. Not from anyone in town. What is going on?”
“I’m heading up top,” she replied. She stripped down to her underwear, and her skin shifted in tone and apparent texture to match her surroundings.
The knock that rang out surprised them both.
A trumpet blared. “Good evening, Orgroth and Ognara Ra’gosh! By order of the earl, we are to escort both of you and your son to Castle Braewood. Please prepare for an extended stay.”
Orgroth and Ognara quickly dressed themselves. Their skin returned to the usual shades of green, and Orgroth pulled open the door. Before them stood dozens of Eaun’s royal guards, a mix of footmen and horsemen, wearing the greens, whites, and reds of the earl’s coat of arms. “Tell the earl we have a smithy to run,” Orgroth barked.
“Bring your blacksmith’s tools,” the guardsman said. He passed the orc a sealed scroll. “Open it, if you wish. It’s an official decree welcoming all three of you to Braewood at all hours of the day. It also details where in the keep you’ll be staying.”
“What if we refuse?”
The guardsman looked confused. “Why would you?”
“We like our home.” He peered beyond the guardsman. All the other villagers remained behind closed windows and locked doors. Orgroth looked at Ognara; she nodded resolutely. “Please thank the earl for his offer of hospitality, but we know where we’re really welcome.” He pushed the door closed, but the guardsman wedged the butt of his spear in the gap.
“It’s not really an offer.”
Orgroth bared his teeth.
Jyo stepped into view with Ellanie at his side. “Allow me to explain.”
Orgroth regarded him suspiciously. “High Soothsayer.”
“Good sir orc.”
Orgroth and Ognara stepped back and allowed them into their home.
Ortog crawled out from under his bed and beamed.
Jyo explained everything that had happened in Eaun’s feast hall, while the children played with Ortog’s toy soldiers and his pull-along wooden dragon.
♦ ♦ ♦
Orgroth hitched the mare to their loaded cart. Ortog curled up in his mother’s lap and fell asleep. Jyo and Ellanie sat next to Orgroth on the driver’s bench, and they joined the procession of soldiers heading back south to the city. From the soldiers’ torches and lamps, firelight guttered and snapped. The hooves of the soldiers’ horses kicked up dirt, and the wagon wheels’ axles quietly creaked with every rotation.
No one said a word.
The guards at the north wall cranked open the gate, and the soldiers led the cart through the city, beyond the castle walls, into the courtyard. Eaun strode into view with a broad grin, with the countess at his side. “We cleared out one of the west-facing stables and moved in some basic furniture. If you need a hearth fire, follow the east passage to the kitchen, and there’s a waste pit you can share with the staff. It might take a few days for the smell to clear out, but I imagine it’s still a step up from the slums you mucktusks are accustomed to.”
Ognara seethed. “We are orcs! If you use that word again—”
Sharply, Orgroth squeezed her hand and muttered, “Please stay calm.” He met her gaze. “For Ortog’s sake.”
She sighed. “Right.” Ognara looked at Eaun. With a sneer, she continued, “You honor us with your generosity. May your gesture inspire others to be as welcoming.”
Eaun scoffed. “In that case, as far as everyone else is concerned, you lot are my prisoners.” He looked at Ortog. “Besides, it’s really your boy that we need to keep safe. Everyone knows that trying to teach a mucktusk to read is like trying to teach a dog to knit, but the countess wants to try, anyway. I’m sure he’ll make a fine soldier, at the very least.”
“I already know how to read,” Ortog protested.
“Sure, you do,” jeered Eaun.
Ortog turned to his mom. “What’s a mucktusk?”
“It’s a word stupid people decide to use when ‘orc’ is too difficult to remember.”
Eaun scowled.
Orgroth stepped close to the earl. “You can collect our boy for his studies and return him by nightfall. Why move us here?”
Eaun shook his head. “I won’t endanger the life of a woman by asking her to rear a feral orc pup. You two will raise him, and the best place to keep all of you safe while you do that is here.”
“So, we are your prisoners.”
Eaun smiled, and he waved the head of the crown guard over. “Captain Sorley, show them to their room.” He faced Orgroth. “Get settled in. Weapon training starts tomorrow, but it’ll be a couple of weeks before the rest of his tutors arrive.” He left with most of the crown guards.
A squad of guardsman remained, and the sergeant led the orcs to a sturdy wooden door. He pushed it open and passed Ognara a burning torch. With a wink, he added, “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
Orgroth, Ognara, and Ortog crossed inside, and the guard latched the door.
Orgroth’s nose curled. “It stinks!”
“Well.” Ognara shined the torch around. All the stalls had been toppled, and most of the rubble cleared. Bits of hay lingered in the corners, along with spots of old muck. There were plenty of sconces, but no torches to occupy them. At the far side of the room, a pair of barn doors opened to the corral where their belongings awaited them. “It’s where we live now.”
“It’s going to need a lot of work,” said Ortog, and he nodded. He kicked at a tuft of matted hay. He squatted and collected it. “So, let’s all get started!”
Ognara sighed and shook her head. “Good idea.” She hugged her boy tightly.