“Can’t you walk now, Flencer?”

“I could give it a go.”

“Good, because I’ve had enough of carting you about, you’re getting heavy.”

“I am heavy.”

The party had been following the road for a week unhindered bar the odd merchant trying to flog their wares. The hills had flattened and the emerald grass had begun to fade and yellow as the heat intensified, and the air was flirting with a salty breeze.

Flencer clambered out of the cart and staggered while finding his feet, he took a few steps and started a meandering walk. “Feels good to be back on me feet again, I’ll say.”

“Ensure those legs are seaworthy, Dwarf.”

Flencer cackled, “A Grunday’s legs are never sea-worthy, but we persevere nevertheless.”

Iridia glanced back, “Grunday?”

“Means Dwarf.”

“You can speak your language?”

“Nah, learned a few words from me mum, that’s ‘bout it.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Angelspree…”

“I mean, where do your people come from?”

Flencer went quiet a moment, “Eh, I dunno, no one does really, some older types say they know the old land, ain’t no maps that point to it though.”

“That’s a bit sad,” Morgan interjected.

“Not as sad as that forest your lot live in.” He wheezed out a laugh.

“Point taken.”

“Ahead.” Kaleb looked back at the party.

Iridia brought her shield from her back. “Oh great, another chance to be struck in the face, considering I am your guide to the Elves, you should perhaps treat me in a more dignified manner, no?”

“A shield to a Paladin is a worthy title,” Kaleb said as he held his broken hammer over his shoulder, he still hadn’t gotten used to the balance of the now unwieldy thing.

“Pah! You’re less of a Paladin and more of an overgrown Blungus-ape that has been shaved down and taught to speak, and as for you, girl, you’re nothing but a scrawny streak of orc piss, I’ll say that myself.”

“I took on a Wendigo, you know, and a Necromancer.” Iridia had gotten used to the shield’s bile-filled insults and took them in her stride, enjoying it a little too much one might say.

“You got your clock cleaned by that bone-dear, I took the beast on, and I didn’t see you fight a Necromancer, so it didn’t happen.”

Iridia frowned, “I did good work.”

“Use your face to stop things in future, like the fat Blungus-ape there, looks like he used his face to stop a cavalry charge.

“Do you think your face will heal, Kaleb?” Morgan asked politely.

“Enough, someone is approaching.” Kaleb pointed out to the distance, the figure was growing as it closed in.

The person came into clear sight after a few minutes, he was running hard and had taken notice of their rag-tag caravan, They probably looked like a bunch of farmers if not for the armour and weapons, Even then, merchant caravans had better equipment.

“Help me!” He waved at them with both hands above his head, “Help!”

Kaleb stood out in front, he didn’t consider the man a threat as he was alone and in no way looking like the type equipped to handle a vossum nest, never mind a Paladin. “Halt.”

“I need–”

“Silence, take a breath before you speak and gather your thoughts,” Kaleb spoke to the Human with a tone that reminded Iridia of when they first met, cold and uncaring, She understood it to be a mask, a way to present himself as formidable and unmovable, not in the art of combat but on the battlefield of conversation. His word is final and impenetrable because he was the harbinger of absolute unyielding truth, and when he speaks it is a command and when he states it is undeniable.

The man was dressed in a black robe, the hood down revealing his long brown hair that was braided beautifully, not something one would expect of a commoner. “My, lord, forgive me.”

“What do you need help with?”

“Orcs, they come for me.”

“Orcs? They are not allowed to step foot upon Imperial soil, why do you run?”

“They care not, the imperial guard at the wall allows them to come and go as they please, my lord, they seek my head.”

“Heretics roaming free, disgusting…why are you being hunted?” Kaleb’s eyes widened with that maddened look he’d offer to those he was ready to scrutinise.

The man wiped the sweat from his forehead, spreading dirt over his face, he was young, fair of skin, and his eyes were dark and deep. Kaleb studied his features, gleaning what he could from his presentation, searching for lies and falsehoods that may be weaved from the spinneret that was the tip of his tongue. “Merchant tax, they have been upping the price, I argued with the Orc, in front of Farlow militia no less and they let it go, The Orcs gave chase and I fled from the city gates, but they did not stop! The Orcs came right ahead not even turning the head of the Imperium.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Kaleb’s eyes flashed. “Your words carry truth, What is your name?”

“Vince, my lord.”

“At least you don’t have a silly name.”

“It’s short for Vincentius.”

“I take it back, behind me, I make way for Farlow port, if we come across the heretics I’ll re-educate them.”

“Thank you, thank you, may I ask your name?”

“You may.”

Vince followed as the party started moving again, expecting an answer from, Kaleb, “My lord, your name?”

“Mind your business and keep quiet.”

Iridia flashed him a playful grin and raised her eyebrows, “And keep up,” she smirked, joining in with the hazing and harrying of the stranger, it was fun to be on the inside looking out sometimes.

“Yes, my lady, might I add you’re very pretty.”

She scowled at him, but couldn’t keep it up, it was nice to be complimented.

“Yet she smells like a thousand pigs.” Her shield hummed.

The man looked around to see who spoke, but everyone was silently walking, his face suggested he may rue the partnership he had forged with this band of grubby, yet hardened-looking travellers.

The party and Vince trotted in silence for an hour until they met upon the approaching Orcs that had given chase to the merchant. He stood behind Morgan and the cart. “There they are, Orcs.”

“I can see.” Three Orcs, standing shorter than the average man, they were easy to spot for they had deep purple skin, pointed ears that arched back in a crescent shape and small white eyes with little black pupils.

The groups stopped before each other, a wagon's distance between them.

“That merchant, give us him and you can be on your way.”

Kaleb did not much care for their demands, more so he wanted to know why an Orc dared to step upon Imperium ground. “Heretical Orcs on this land, explain yourself.”

The Orcs looked at each other, “We’ve been given permission.”

“Show me the writ,” Kaleb spoke with a heave in his chest, he was angered by their presence combined with their demands, If they were lost he’d perhaps take pity on them and drag them back to Farlow port with their ear.

“We ain’t got no writ.”

Kaleb contained his fury as he followed up. “I will let you live on two conditions.”

The Orcs let out a chatter of chomping laughter, It was fake and Kaleb could see through it, they were nervous, Kaleb was not a small man and he showed them not an inch of ground. “The first condition is that you will tell me why you are allowed to be on this ground, I wish to know the goings on at Port Farlow, the second is that you return to the port and never step onto this ground again.”

Laughter fizzed away into grunts and low chatter, and the leader of the Orcs stepped forward. “How about–”

“Your time is running out, my offer is none negotiable, I will, without pause, tear your heads clean from your bodies and present them to the guardsman who let you go unhindered, then I will tear his head all the same, you are beginning to very much irk me.”

The Orc was taken aback by the promise of such violence, his hand went to the hilt of his barbed blade. “Listen ‘ere–” Before he could finish he was pulled back by the other Orc, he whispered something in his ear. “Right, well, I assume you are a Paladin right?”

Kaleb narrowed his eyes, the Orcs could see this was not worth their time or lives.

“Well, good luck in Farlow, Paladin scum.” With that the Orcs turned and fled back from wence they came, they moved too quickly for Kaleb and the party to follow for they carried unwieldy cargo and a slow Dwarf in the injured Flencer.

“What is happening at Farlow Port, Vince?” Kaleb turned with a concerned harried face. “Orcs are not that brazen.”

“It’s gone to pot, my lord, I knew you were a Paladin minute I clapped eyes on you, but it’s not safe for anyone now.”

“Why?”

“Elves have stopped trading, no more singing steel, they aren’t taking goods either, it’s a nightmare, homeless people everywhere, merchants fleeing and the militia and Imperials are as corrupt as ever!”

“What of the Paladins?”

“Trinius and Saldagor? Them two are the Farlow port house masters…they don’t do anything about anything!”

Kaleb stroked his black beard and pursed his lips.

“Is it safe for us to go into the city?” Flencer chimed in.

“We’ll need to enter, we have to restock and find a ship willing to carry us.”

“I know someone, maybe can help,” Vince added eagerly, enjoying the protection of the party for now. “If you’re a Paladin you’ll get straight into Farlow, no need to wait.”

Kaleb's eyebrow quirked, “Why would we need to wait?”

Vince looked between the party, “They aren’t letting folks in till folks leave, there’s a monstrous queue at the gatehouse, it’s getting longer…but you can get me right back in, yeah?”

Kaleb pushed Vince away and beckoned the party into a huddle. “Something is off, much like Brimshire.”

“They will let us straight in though, as we are Paladins,” Iridia whispered.

“Our writ is good, but the name on it is not, We are to be known as dead and a target, I believe for those already corrupted, these Paladins running the port, they will know if we present ourselves.”

Flencer nodded, “We may have to take the risk though, if the queue is as long as Vince says it is, then we might be waiting for a long time.”

Morgan nodded along with Flencer’s thought.

“We also must take concern with these Orcs, They numbered only three when we met, but I suspect their operation is quite wide in scope, They have the Imperium on the books which would never happen in normal times.” Kaleb paused and bit his lip, “We shall play it by ear, let us assess this queue, perhaps it is worth the wait to remain incognito.”

“I like that word.” Morgan smiled.

“Me too.” Iridia nodded.

“Yeah me too…incognito,” Flencer smirked.

“Each of you is a fool and I am truly a beacon of resilience to maintain our company.” Kaleb stood up and looked at Vince who was standing with his hands on hips. “You there, Vinchenzius…”

“Vincentius.”

“Yes, why do you wish to return to Farlow if Orcs are after your head?”

“I have a wife and a child, not to mention a stash of my earnings, I’ll get them out and leave for Angelspree.”

Kaleb sighed, “Very well, you will help us with the boat, yes?”

“I know an Orc, he’s a good lad.”

“Orc…”

“Not all Orcs want me dead I’ll say.” Vince smiled and looked between them wistfully.

***

The journey to the wall was another week away and was in sight for an entire day before they reached it. It was a supreme structure, standing two towers tall, the gatehouse door was the size of a cathedral. Many smaller doors ran along the bottom for reasonable entry and exit, making it more of a boastful imposition to the land of the Empire rather than a working feature. Before the gate; steps climbed in their thousands with houses and structures littered on either side to make their own little Empire, no doubt filled with merchants, traders and a variety of businessmen offering services both above board and very much below board. The party was in awe of the grand structure, apart from Kaleb who was in horror, the line of desperate people stretched a mile long, tents, shanties and mournful cries came from the procession of poverty, all waiting to gain entry to the corrupt innards of Port Farlow.