We decided to rest a few hours. Trueanvil got a lunch, Rhodarr got a drink, and Jim got slapped when he tried to flirt with one of the maids. At least that was what I was told later by a snickering Rhodarr. I wasn't present, because I went and bought myself a mule.

Despite being a knight, I knew precious little of horses. I have never served with the cavalry, and I have never in my life trained a horse. Mules, on the other hand, I was very familiar with. I often had one to carry my belongings, and I also taught a few back in Italia. So it wasn't really a question which animal I am going to pick here.

I chose a two years old horse mule, who was already trained to carry iron ore from a mine to a foundry. I could tell he was a smart and sure-footed animal, and the previous owner also told me that he was very independent and headstrong. Which suited me well, as I was going to leave the animal alone for hours or days at a time, so I needed him to be able to survive on his own.

“Say hello to our newest comrade, Gaius!” I introduced the animal to my companions as we met again before the inn. I named him Gaius on a whim. It seemed somehow fitting. Also, even though I practised with him less than an hour, he already understood this was going to be his new name, and listened to it. As I said, he was smart, even for a mule.

“You bought a mule?” Beldrak asked. “But why?”

“So we can carry away the books you bargained for,” I said annoyedly.

“Mules are pure trouble,” Rhodarr announced. “Back when I was with a travelling troupe we had mules. They are much stupider than horses. The drivers had to beat them constantly to get them to do anything.”

“A well-trained mule requires no beating at all,” I answered disapprovingly. I have seldom beaten any of my mules. They took undeserved beatings almost as badly as a human. If you beat a slave or a mule, they might work hard when you are in sight, but they will slack off the moment you turn your back. And what's worse, they will start to think out ways to take revenge. “We will show you. Gaius is a very smart beast, isn't he?” I patted the critter's had.

“We are going into the mountains,” Beldrak said. “I have told you before that any animal will slow us down.”

“And you were dead wrong. A mule can go almost anywhere where we can go. If anything, we will be faster because our burden will be spread out better.”

“Well, we always knew that Arnold was a lazy bastard,” remarked Jim. “Can't say I am surprised. The little son of Mommy and Daddy can't be bothered to carry his own damn stuff, can he?”

“Does that mean that you don't want Gaius to bear your belongings?” I asked innocently. “Because there is still place on his back for fifty pounds or so.” I tried to lift his backpack.

“No,” snarled Jim, and hit my hand away. “And keep your thieving hands for yourself, or I will cut them off!”

“Well, that settles it,” grinned Rhodarr before I could retort. “Have I told you, Arnold, that you are my favourite student? Here is my bag.”

We started on our journey. If possible, our mood was even worse than before. Jim was quarrelsome, I was miserable, and Rhodarr was drunk. Even the happiness I felt over my new mule was soured by the reception he received. Beldrak was more or less the only sane and dependable person left in our merry company, and his patience was stretched thin. When I stumbled on a stone and tumbled down from the path that was leading us up on a mountainside, he finally snapped.

“Arnold, stop brooding at last, and look at the damn road! Jim, stop laughing and help the damn fool! Rhodarr, where did you get that flask again?! Give it to me, or I will burn it in your hands!”

I was caught by the thick shrubbery growing on both sides. That's bloody embarrassing. Normally I was sure-footed like my beloved mules.

“Believe me,” I said as I got up, “I would like to stop brooding. I just don't know how to do it.”

“Well, do something with yourself!” shouted Beldrak, and angrily threw away the flask he wrestled from Rhodarr's hands. “You are a wreck, man. A bloody wreck! Snap out of it! And you too, Jim! We will all end up as ork food, if you don't get your act together!”

Needless to say, his speech didn't have the tiniest effect on us.

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

Despite Trueanvil's misgivings, we arrived in Blessingdale on the 30th of October without any further trouble. We found the only inn in the village. The inhabitants of the settlement pompously called it a town, but it really was only a village, even smaller than Oakhurst.

“Coming from far?” asked the owner of the tavern, as we entered his hall.

“From far enough,” answered Beldrak. “You have a room and a hot bath for us?”

“The bath will take an hour to prepare. But you came just in time for dinner. Would you like some?”

“Mmm, I feel meat roasting somewhere. If you can serve some ale with it, that would be perfect.” Rhodarr was already sitting at a table.

We ate pork in some spicy sauce with roasted potatoes and pickle. If I ever go back to Italia, I will have to take some potato with me, I thought as I was sipping my ale. It wasn't just delicious, it was also very easy to grow. I heard the harvest was also usually two-three times as high as with wheat or barley on the same land.

“You are lucky to have potatoes,” I said aloud.

“Lucky?” the innkeeper laughed. “Not many would say so. We eat potatoes all year round. Most of us would kill for some good, soft white bread made from proper wheat. The lands around the town are not very good.”

“Well, you have iron,” said Beldrak. “You cannot eat iron, but it still feeds the family, does it not?”

“Not well enough,” grinned the man. “Although we shouldn't complain. You are here, after all. We were already afraid you wouldn't come this month.”

“You were expecting us?” asked Rhodarr. “That is a welcome change! Usually folks loathe to see us arriving, and can't wait to see our backs.”

“Iron merchants are a tough breed,” laughed the innkeeper again. “But we here are no less tougher! And also, why would we frown on someone bringing us good coin, eh?”

Beldrak and I looked at each other.

“I regret to inform you that this is a misunderstanding,” said Trueanvil.

“We would gladly buy off your iron though,” I added. “If the traders don't come before we are done with our business.”

“You are not the merchants? Oh well, I thought they were sending some new faces north this time. What is your business then?”

“Orks.”

“Orks? You have come exactly to the right place then. There is more of them here than rats. And we have plenty of those. What do you want with them?”

“We are paid to find their stronghold and clean it out.”

“With only four? It's your life, but there are less painful ways to end it.”

“With only three,” corrected Rhodarr. “I will be enjoying your hospitality while my comrades deal with the greenskins.”

“Sensible. Hope you have the coin for it though.”

“They have it. I usually drink and whore away mine.”

The innkeeper found this incredibly funny. After all, he was not the one who had to put up with the actor's antics, or at least he was going to get paid for it.

“Even a whore worth a copper would know better than to come to a poor place like this,” said the man at last. “But I do have some good wine and mead.”

“No whores here? This place really is godforsaken. When was the last time a travelling troupe came here?”

“Like musicians and actors? Never. I don't remember such a thing at least.”

“Maybe I could do something about that,” mused Rhodarr.

“Can you tell us any more about the orks?” Beldrak asked.

“I am not really the man to turn to if you want to know about the orks,” the innkeeper scratched his head. “I am in the militia, and fight against the raiders like any other if they come, but I am an innkeeper otherwise. I know nothing of hunting orks down, or fighting them on their own turf.”

“So whom should we speak to?” I inquired.

“Mayor Amarro is a man who was a warrior in his younger years. And there is also Saverrio, the Sergeant of the Watch. He only has one other man besides himself, but he does a good job. They took a prisoner just the other day.”

“Splendid! Where do we find this Saverrio? And can we interrogate his prisoner?”

“He is at the watch-house. But... you see... we here in the far North make do with all folks. I hear in bigger cities humans don't mix so well. So if you take offence for that sort of thing you'd better be knowing Saverrio is an ork who grew up among humans.”

“Man,” I sighed. “I am travelling with a tiefling and a dragonborn. This Saverrio fellow can't be any uglier than Jim, can he?”

The innkeeper seemed relieved. Jim, on the other hand, stood up, his face a mask of anger.

“Fuck you, Arnold.” He hurled his jar at me, ale spattering around. I could barely duck in time. “I am done with your shit.” He turned, picked up his bag, and left.

It was surprising. After a month of hurling insults at each other, a mild comment like that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

“Now you have done it,” laughed Rhodarr. “Thankfully, this is not my problem!”

“No, it is mine.” Beldrak seemed very annoyed. “If I had known that I would end up shepherding a bunch of kids anyways, I would have stayed at home and started a family!”

“Fine,” I sighed. “I will go and beg for forgiveness. Tomorrow. After we have spoken to this Saverrio fellow. Now, I would like to sleep.”

“You sleep ten hours a day already. And it is still only six in the evening or so.”

“Today, I will sleep twelve hours then.” And dream of home. “Dreams can give advice, you know.” Or a god can appear in them, and take me back to Italia.