“Stories and fables might try to convince you otherwise, as often it seemed as if every journey the hero and their party undertake is filled with peril and disruptions at every turn, but fact of the matter is, around nineteen out of every twenty journeys were uneventful.” - From a lecture by Leigh Wainswrought, assistant professor of sociology at the Levain Institute of Higher Learning, circa 695 FP.
“Oh, Commanding Instructor Ze’phane, didn’t expect to see you welcome us yourself,” said Councillor Adenauer as they reached the border between Caroma and Levain. Other than the one incident with the raiders, their trip through Caroman Territory was fortunately uneventful, and they reached their destination as scheduled. Scipius and his men had already said their goodbyes, as they headed towards a fort on the south side of the border instead.
Instead, Reinhardt found that the Levain side had also sent a welcoming delegation to greet them. To his surprise, the delegation consisted entirely of cavalrymen, around two hundred of them, with a tall, half-orcish man at their lead. It was that half-orc that Councillor Adenauer greeted fondly as they approached the arrayed cavalry formation.
“Good to see you return in good health, with friends, Councillor,” replied the half-orc with a nod. As they came closer, Reinhardt noticed that despite the deep timbre of the man’s voice, the half-orc was dressed in some slightly unusual manner. It was something that would have likely gone unnoticed to anyone who was unfamiliar with orcish culture, but there were quite a few of those amongst the Free Lances, with Reinhardt’s own late best friend being one, so he was quite knowledgeable in their traditional habits.
For one, while long hair was common for both males and females amongst the orcs, the males almost always shaved the side of their head clean, usually only leaving patches of hair that formed into tribal patterns. This Ze’phane on the other hand kept his hair long on the sides as well, with most of it bunched up into a long braid behind his back, and the rest tied into two smaller braids that fell in front of his ears.
Similarly, his general posture, the air he gave out, and even the way he rode the horse all felt slightly off to Reinhardt, who was used to the more warrior-like types, since those were what the mercenaries generally attracted. If anything, the feeling that this Ze’phane gave out reminded him more of his own Company’s support staff, rather than that of a hardened warrior.
“Captain Edelstein, this is Commanding Instructor Ze’phane of the Greentusks, formerly the head of the Imperial Stables. She has been helping us train up some cavalry and care for our steeds, which we do not have much of,” introduced Councillor Adenauer with one hand. “Miss Ze’phane, this is Captain Reinhardt Edelstein of the Free Lances Mercenary Company.”
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“A pleasure to meet you,” said Reinhardt as he shook the half-orc’s hand. “So, Twin-Souled, or Switched-Soul?” he then asked.
“Both, actually,” replied Ze’phane as she nodded with a smile. Both the terms Reinhardt mentioned were how the northern orcs called those who were inclined to both of the traditional roles – the ones who protect and provide, and the ones who care and nurture – typically adhered to in the tribes, as well as those who felt that they were born in the wrong body. “I did not expect to meet someone who knows what those mean! Always a long, awkward conversation when someone asked me to explain.”
“One of the aunties who often looked after me when I was small came straight from the north, so I’ve learned a bit about it,” replied Reinhardt with a smile. “We also had quite a few descendants from the northern tribes in our ranks, though not too many first generations, I’m afraid.”
“Probably all the war, honestly. Most of us actually enjoyed peace more, so all this war going on just curbed the enthusiasm of most who would have otherwise traveled away from home,” replied Ze’phane without missing a beat. “Well, not counting those who just wanted a good fight to prove their mettle, but you know those types often did not last too long under such messy conditions.”
“I hear you, all right,” said Reinhardt with a guffaw. The convoy had started moving further into Levain, and he was talking with Ze’phane as she rode alongside the wagon he was on. “So, former head of the Imperial stables?”
“I always loved caring for mounts since I was young, so it was a logical occupation. Got noticed and given a higher post, that was before the war, though,” replied the half-orc. “Honestly, one reason I went out from the prairies was because we lack a healer skilled enough to correct a Switched-Soul’s condition there, so I am here working to gather money to hopefully afford one such healer someday. Assuming I can find one.”
“That turned out to be harder than expected. Most healers did not dare to commit to such an undertaking because of the difficulties involved, while others felt that it was beyond their powers,” she continued. “Some others charged truly exorbitant prizes for such a feat, though I am pretty certain that a good bunch of those that did so were just charlatans trying to cheat me out of my money.”
“I have actually met with one such individual before, but I don’t know if she does that sort of work as well or not, or even if she takes money for healing,” muttered Reinhardt as he recalled of that one fortuitous encounter he had with the Silver Maiden back in Theodinaz. “Maybe if you still haven’t found a suitable healer by the end of our contract here I’ll introduce you? That might be a few years, though.”
“Time isn’t a great issue for me, Captain Edelstein,” replied Ze’phane with a loud guffaw that displayed her prominent tusks. “Half of my parentage are from elves, so I still have centuries left of my life. I definitely can spare a few more years, sure.”