Chapter 123

Gula POV

Freezing night air nipped at my hands and cheeks as it blew through the gaps in the walls. The wooden outhouse above the river held no charms, with its poor construction and the constant roar of water below the hole behind me that served as the endpoint for all meals. The shack had been used for its purpose and now I stood tall, sporting my brown pants and white shirt beneath the leather coat with furred neck.

My hands reached for the block of wood called a radio I had placed to the left side. Nights like these provided such meager starlight that even my kind struggled but the practiced motions were performed as they always were when I conversed with my husband through the miracle box.

“Mom, it’s Gula. Asking for a conversation with Eli. Finished.” I had a vague certainty that final word wasn't the correct phrase but it would do either way.

The static held for a moment before the voice that had commanded my world for so many years answered back.

“I’ll get him.” She answered.

Winter was the only company I had in the stall for a minute before the box brought the voice of mother in hand.

“He says hello. There is something big he wants to talk about but he wants to hear about your day first.”

My eyebrows raised in curiosity but I followed his suggestion.

“Another round of drop-offs. The story where I get supplies by smuggling from the Coalition which I’ve stashed around is looking like the one to go with. We’ve brought on more orphans and the kids have taken to the sea well enough. I think there are a few who would be good to bring on officially. Not on to my crew but our wider plan. Besides that, same as always. Finished.”

A few more minutes of making sure I wasn’t losing the feeling in my fingers and hearing frothing river was suddenly interrupted by the crackle of the radio.

“They’re going to level the slum to drive us out.” Mother growled through the box, her voice biting with irritation.

A hand lifted to the frozen wall to help correct weakened knees. Stinging ice against my palm didn’t merit so much as a blink while I paced out my breathing.

“He didn’t say it like that. Don’t leave out any details.”

A second of silence filled the outhouse.

“A new governor is taking over. I’ve been tasked with taking in all the single men, who will soon be expelled from the city. My plans for the expanded domain and the need to make room for all the Orc mating men will soon leak so that you can have as much time to prepare as possible. This will be a permanent arrangement and we’ll have to crunch for the next few months to ride out this storm. Finished.”

I tried to think of what to say. The entire underground was going to…. My stomach churned, and this time it wasn’t from the smell of this place. A cold more deadly and sinister than winter's kiss seeped into my veins even as my throat wanted to exhume the day’s dinner.

“What do we do?” Mother asked through the box.

I went over everything that would be needed to get people to Baker’s Port in the south. Figures of storage, beds, and food for traveling came to me. The sea life had been creeping into my soul as the tons carried and the size of available cargo space was almost second nature to me. A few seconds of wrangling in muted frenzy sped by until the radio sprang back to life.

“Eli says he has a plan to allow the Orcs to move beneath his city.” Mother offered with a note of faint hope.

“Will that be enough?” I mused.

Silence was the answer, as Mother had apparently interpreted that as a question for Eli. Maybe it was. My brain was giving a sporting try of planning after a long day of work and I couldn’t say who of us three I was talking to.

“He’s going to segment the city between an upper section and another underground. Kind of like what we have in Crasden but…. More intentional on the human’s part.”

I bit my lip white. There was some guilt about doubting the only plan at hand, but I had reservations about that path. Reservations that thousands of my people would face the consequences of if they were ever realized.

“How does a plant scion have an Orc infestation they can’t deal with?” I asked.

“It’s based on…. Something about arches and stress points. Maybe the fifth time around I could explain it properly.”

Mother’s exasperated tone made it clear no such attempt would be made.

My brain automatically shoved the question into the void along with how metal could make voices and memories were stored in small capsules on the neck. If I doubted Eli about this, there was a small army of nonsense that would demand to be in front of stone construction weirdness.

“And what about my end? Anything with the ship or from the Base?”

“Gula, we can’t just miraculously have the solution served up when the secret gets out.”

It took a moment for me to realize it was mother objecting, not Eli through her voice.

“A miracle? We could do a few unloading trips in preparation. Make extra room in the lower decks by storing more in the warehouse. They’re not going to be able to make an entire city in the amount of time as the humans can destroy it.”

“And why would the sea-faring smuggler unload all of her cargo onto land? Especially when she didn’t do it before, save for the best time just before an event she had no foreknowledge of.”

I gulped down spit along with the snarl working its way up my throat. Panic was starting to worm its way in, from the shake in my free hand to the increasing speed of my breathing. Nerves honed on the battlefield were the only reason the radio wasn’t being wrangled like a neck or my guards on the outside peeking in to see what the screaming was about.

“I can say…. We need…. It’s going to take a good week or two to make the trip south to Baker’s Port. One trip for a hundred or so people at most. Out of untold thousands. We have to do something.”

A moment of hard silence passed before the radio crackled again.

“We are. More than any of our kind ever have.” She replied with a note of finality.

The rest of the conversation played out in my mind. We’d argue about all the things I could sneakily pull off and none of it would be enough to make a real dent in anything. Any moves on my part wouldn’t even be worth it because the future of my entire species was riding on getting this right and I couldn’t risk the wrong questions getting asked. Now that I had been given some time to absorb, my reluctant acceptance of the situation began overriding the frenzied need to make it what I wanted, not what it was. I don’t know if I can tell a bunch of kids ‘Sorry, there’s no room. Go find somewhere comfortable to die.’ before shoving off with the last voyage out, but the reality that one ship couldn’t save half a city settled into me.

“Tell Eli…. That I love him. Finished.”

The silence between us stretched on with only the swirling river below filling my ears.

“I love you too and I’ll prove it again in the coming days.” Mother responded, finally acting as a proper go-between.

Despite the voice coming from the woman who washed me as a babe, I felt some warmth bloom in my chest. Sadly, there was nothing left to be said. I turned off the radio and placed it beneath my leather jacket before vacating the outhouse with a tired sigh that matched the clack of my feet hitting stone. The other outhouses along the sides of the bridge had a few occupants with a green woman walking past.

‘Anything wrong?’ The black-furred Kelton in front of me asked through an electric sensation on my shoulder, those white eyes matching his shirt as they perused my face. Three other of the goat-headed men ambled around, sticking close with their holstered swords.

‘Everything soon enough.’ I offered with a tired heart.

They didn’t press for details as we ambled off to the right. Black sky weaved a tapestry of lights above as we moved over the stone bridge towards the road that hugged the side of the river. The surrounding slum had a few Orcs and humans in the meager houses, idly walking about as a couple, or seeing to their needs in the outhouses on the bridge we abandoned. These were the hardier people who could stand the cold of winter night for a breath of air untouched by the sweat and odor of a glorified cave.

We continued down the road towards the large house with thick poles beneath. Moving between the forest of crafted wood, the multitude of doors into the underground were left wide open for the nightly rush out. The crowd had since dispersed in both directions and allowed us free entrance.

A wide chasm of stone walls provided a canvas for the faint starlight peeking through the thin roof. Off to the right was the domain of those with heavier coin purses, sporting firm stone walls, thick wooden beams, and some space between. The place serving as my residence on land was to the left among the lines of double doors and windows marking warehouses worked into the walls of something the priests called ‘concrete’.

My shoes clapped against the stone floor as we took one of the narrow streets on the left. Even at this time there were people ambling about. The buildings sunken into the wall were previously abandoned and now sported a small population of people seeking refuge from the devastation of the pirate battle that had spilled in the slum so long ago. Rumor said they were a few days from fully recovering the homes that got crushed under the earth mages' boulders.

I arrived at the last double door and went through. Inside were the lines of blankets and cloth serving as walls to the homeless denizens the city had paid me to take in. The desk on the left was vacated by my secretary, leaving only another Kelton guard by the staircase in front of it to watch the roost.

Creaking wood accompanied the men walking up the stairs of the secretary's roost, leaving me to twiddle thumbs at the base until they came back with a nod. The cold wood gave out another round of moans as I ascended to the next floor. Large crates awaited me directly ahead, but I carefully walked around through the darkness to the bed and wardrobe behind. There were still a lot of boxes everywhere, but the chaos had been reformed into neat rows with groupings of the contents therein and my little corner resembled a proper room instead of a vagrants squatting ground.

My plunge into the bed was halfhearted. Black void replaced the white of the pillow and I fell asleep with a swarm of worries, questions, and anxieties for company.

“Gula!” The voice of my secretary called out.

I turned upward to the foot of my bed to find the older Orc, Sharn, holding her thin hands over the belly of the same brown dress she always wore. Those angular cheeks emphasized the wrinkles in her skin, though the mirth in those gold irises on black spheres had a whimsy unfitting whimsy.

“Another day beckons, Lady Gula.” She intoned with a small bow that cause her bun of grey hair to wiggle against her ears.

I only nodded, making her turn back to her station. There was a deadness in my chest as I got up and retrieved a change of clothes. Numb ache that had no physical location even as my body reacted to it. Dull footsteps followed my exit from the warehouse and the circle of Kelton guards around me. A pattern of hallways and tunnels well worn from use left my mind idle enough to consider the situation

With nothing left to do, I went through the motions of daily life wearing a world-shattering secret around my neck like a noose. Merchants came by with a few deals and exchanges. Their desperate need to get some some goods from the only ship servicing the city came with good coin, most of which ended up in a special drawer that I designated for contracts I knew I’d be breaking in the next few days. A lot of tailors were going to be dissapointed that their order for leathers and cloth was supplanted by refugees, but who can say if they’ll be one of those fleeing unfortunates or not, so I didn’t feel too guilty when I shook their hands and signed on the line.

An entire day passed in silent agony.

Then another.

I was downright furious when I wasn’t woken up by a panicking Cassie or city guard and had to man the desk on the second floor behind the staircase. My poor quill was handled with undeserved roughness, its strokes on paper seemingly matching the slaps of my leather shoe on the floor to remind the world of the impatience brewing inside this captains soul. Winter cold seeping through my white shirt and brown pants remained the only companionship I had all morning, save the Kelton guards. The idle torture of manning the desk and attendant paperwork continued until lunch when the aged voice of Sharn called up.

“Lady Gula! Council head Nersa is requesting-”

A voice said something downstairs, too low for coherence.

“Urgently demanding a meeting!”

A sigh escaped my lips, mixed with relief and trepidation.

“Let her-”

A few stomps preceded a clanking of metal. The tower of steel that ambled up looked around for a few seconds, paying me no mind save a second of measuring with red eyes. After finding my abode bereft of assasins, the guard looked down the stairs and nodded.

Into my office walked the single most powerful person in the underground. Her green skin was immaculately washed, that bob of brown hair with bits of grey was perfectly done against her forehead. Those small ears had pearls pierced through and even with the walk up in a fine brown coat and creme-colored shirt, not even her small nose showed any strain of breathing. Brown pants were tight against her slim form, doing nothing to punish her stride up, meaning they had to be custom made to their wearer’s dimensions.

An uncompromising display of feminine prowess and confidence that made my teeth clench and hackles rise. Even now, with her entire world about to suck the end of a sword, she still couldn’t have a single hair out of place. I hated that part of me that demanded attention on such things during a crisis, but I managed to choke it down in time to casually lean back into my chair.

‘Another swim to the mages house?’ I asked in a spirit connection.

Brown eyebrows raised at the suggestion as she sat in the chair in front of my desk.

‘Any and all options would be appreciated right now.’ Nersa replied with a worn tone. ‘Though the waters we need you to take are more northward. A dangerous task with the Bodding Kingdom patrolling the waters, but I’m certain your abilities will be more than a match.’

As long pondered as this meeting was, I couldn’t say I considered taking that direction. The furrowing of my eyebrows and folding of my fingers together invited her to speak further.

‘After its inception, the Cradle had a period where the humans tried a blockade. A foolish and unsustainable thing considering its mountains touch the Bloody Plains and the icy wastes. They still managed to make getting supplies in incredibly difficult. Something we helped alleviate at no little cost. Since then an…. Agreement for aid in times of need has been established. A treaty we’ll be pulling on.’

‘Why didn’t the humans just march on the settlement?’ I asked innocently. She hadn’t told me lives were in danger, leaving me to act ignorant of the stakes.

‘It’s more like a fort spanning the mountains. The place was built to conduct experiments on us. Diseases and such if I remember correctly, with a working mine for cover. What was made to keep our kind in also proved very good at keeping the humans out when their prisoners broke free. The details of that chapter you will have to get from them. The more important issue is that they have an agreement to take us in, as we would them.’

An idle thought pushed itself to the front of my mind. It had been there since I had first heard of the place but I kept it idle until now.

‘So it’s totally ours?’ I asked with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Brown eyebrows furrowed but Nersa’s golden eyes remained steady.

‘We don’t own the Cradle.’

‘I meant we as in we Orcs.’ The reply left my lips with a hint of irritation that was not returned in her demeanor.

‘Yes, it falls totally under our kind’s domain.’

A shiver of excitement ran up my spine. Ours. Not under the humans or squatting in Frojan territory. Excitement at the prospect of such a place mixed with the churn of worry in my gut before I pressed on.

‘There’s space for a hundred or so on my ship as passengers, their supplies are another matter. I thought the construction crews managed to fix the supports.’

Nersa bit her lower lip. Her breathing was steady but those golden eyes looked somewhere far away for a moment before the mind behind them returned to my chair.

‘They did. Unfortunately, they can’t patch over the damage that’s coming. This time I’m afraid the destruction will not be a side effect. The humans intend to purge the Underground.’

I sat up a bit straighter, trying to let my eyebrows rise in a natural manner.

‘Which sections?’

She shook her head, that brown bun of grey flecked hair staying in place with no sway.

‘They intend to take it all out. Root and stem. Not even the sky touched buildings will be saved.’

‘I’ve heard no announcements or any indications of such a big move.’ I responded with due skepticism.

‘Their plan is still in its infancy. I can’t reveal everything save that we know the new governor intends to expel our men in order to pave over the life we built here.’

‘If….’ I struggled a bit at this part, as it brushed against the truly unknown. ‘Where will everyone else go? I hope you don’t think a few excursions on my ship will be enough to do anything.’

Those golden eyes pierced into me. Not trusting but there wasn’t the steel of coming denial either. Tense seconds passed before she took a deep breath.

‘Sally thinks we can survive under the plant scions domain. Not just around the outskirts and harbor as we had originally planned. He’s building a proper city to take in all the men. Circumstance has forced him to build a multilayered domain with a new underground that can’t be exhumed as easily as this one just as it forced him to get sloppy in covering up the plans for the structure.’

The lick of my lips followed by a puckering hopefully gave the skeptical impression I wanted.

‘How does an earth mage make something he can’t destroy?’

‘It was all quite complex, but the architects spent a night and then some to check. Perhaps the Christian's god has seen fit to save his flock or their hope has clouded their judgment. However that avenue turns out, I’m not putting all our hopes on the workings of a male mage. The Cradle has a small port in the frozen north. Bellog, besides tracking our coin, has some experience with them and can act as an envoy.

A group has been assembled to leave under the guise of retrieving more tools and such, which, while true, isn’t why they’re going. They’ll be told that they’re refugees during the trip. I would advise against personally returning to this office. Certain people will know out what’s happening, either because we have to tell them to prepare or they’ve gone through a purge before and can see the signs of another approaching. They’ll swarm you to get their children a spot on the ship out then word will spread about some panic among the leadership.’

Those immaculate hands moved to rest on the brown pants, rubbing the cloth with an idle sweep to clear some dust. Besides that, she said nothing more, allowing me to cut in.

‘As I previously said, we can fit a few hundred but I haven’t stocked enough supplies for so many.’ I emphasized the last sentence with a lean forward. Nersa only nodded.

‘A draft of the needed goods will be written up and delivered, if your hold has the space.’

There we sat with no words exchanged or faces giving any indication of the others inner thoughts. An awkward thing, leaving my scant social skills flailing at how to proceed. Nersa picked up the conversation by taking a deep breath and asking the final question.

‘What compensation will you require?’ She asked in a patient voice.

‘My standard rate.’ I replied.

Those brown eyebrows raised again, this time in surprise as much as disbelief.

‘Oh? No fees for the sudden inconvenience? Or hikes for the urgency?’

Poetry was not my expertise nor was clever wordplay. Yet I still felt compelled to try and weave our grand vision into this venture.

‘I won’t have my people work for free. Fleecing the desperate at a weak moment, however, isn’t something I go into business for. We all, Orcs and Humans, need to come together in crisis and for a better future. Perhaps I’ll be in need of your services in time or this relationship with my crew can grow into something more than just buyer and seller.’

It failed.

I could feel the ‘let’s get along’ slop leave my mouth with nothing to lead towards abandoning magic and I had to admit the skill to do so in this conversation was simply beyond me. Nersa smiled with appreciation all the same.

‘It’s nice to see some forethought. Lord knows it’s more rare than gold around here. Cassie will be handling the payments and Sally has a list of goods that we will actually need to purchase from the Cradle.’

‘Of course, I have taken on prior commitments. Breaking them will incur some fee’s and a certain amount of damage to my reputation.’ I announced with a reach into the desk drawer. Pulling out the pages took a moment as I wouldn’t have them all neatly ready if I didn’t expect this interruption to my operations.

‘We’ll handle it. They’ll be compensated for the trouble and will be directed to our office for any complaints.’

With that, the spirit connection was cut. The older Orc got up with a slight smile before leaving with the heavily armored mountain. I was left to peruse my initial paper for a few more hours before both priests trudged up the stairs, though their announcement was far less grand.

Cassie came with jog in that black dress and tilted head cover that only slightly revealed the grey-streaked black hair beneath. Those plump cheeks did nothing to hide the worried air in her golden eyes that moved the mole under the left one with a look around. Her short nose sniffled with her walk towards my desk.

Sally came in from behind. Sporting a shirt and pants matching her companions colors, the two women were far apart in body, with her having a thinner frame and short, fully grey hair. A tired air hung about her as a green hand rubbed the sharp chin above a white square on her collar. The small nose beneath those gold eyes showed a more steady breath, though irritation seemed to mix with an over taxed face. That didn’t stop a spirit connection from her direction touching my shoulder.

‘Has Nersa informed you?’

Cassie sat down in front of me while Sally stood off to the right.

‘About the trip north because they’re going to break this place? Yes, I was just told this last hour.’

The plump Orc leaned forward, her hands clawing into the black dress until the palms were white.

‘How many crew members could you add?’ Cassie asked with a harried voice. There was a hint of panic in the plea, emphasizing the bit lip and heavy breathing.

‘Well, I’ve found myself in need of more crew recently. A dozen or so fresh hands on the decks would help.’

The plump priest leaned further until her head was above the desk, almost vacating the seat as she did so.

‘Only a dozen? Could you not take on more?’

‘Cassie.’ Sally replied with as much firmness as the tired woman could manage.

Puckered lips were the plump woman’s first response as she turned to her left. The second was unheard but the stone face Sally adopted and hastened breathing from Cassie made it clear the two were having a conversation outside of the spirit connection with myself. The grey-haired woman gripped my desk with some frustration but the argument never moved into the physical realm for its minute-long life. They finished by looking away from each other to focus on the owner of this warehouse, which didn’t prevent me from speaking first.

‘Eighteen. Any more than that draws eyes.’ I offered.

The plump priest gave me an appreciative nod. Sally sighed while her golden eyes looked back towards the rest of the crates.

‘We need tools to make this venture under the plant mages' domain reality. Nersa has assured us we’ll have as many backs as needed, but the metal to make the flesh useful doesn’t have the same guarantee. The Cradle has a lot of smiths and ore, the coin for such product we will provide.’

Her green hand reached into her pocket, pulling out a white page which was carefully handed to me. A perusing of the order showed a long list of items with numbers beside them, some reaching into the hundreds. Most were picks and hammers. Looking further down the list were more types of those tools, each with a qualifying name behind the recognizable tool name. The last line was for shovel heads. Not shovels, just their heads.

‘I will hand it off to my first mate. Any further correspondence will be done through my secretary or by a long walk to the ship as an unexpected expedition has been foisted into my lap. Something that will require my personal attention to make ready for.’

A lie, as any ship-side issues had been long resolved. Something the priests didn’t pick up on as they vacated the bedroom serving as an office with appreciative smiles. Once they were out of sight, I placed the doomed contracts on the top of my desk. Winter still nipped at my fingers, making it hard to move bare hands over the icy pages. Worst of all, the charade still demanded I get out of my chair to make for the mansion on that freezing sea, which I did with some relief to finally be doing something about the coming crisis mixed in the trepidation. A leather jacket was quickly wrapped over my white shirt, a hasty thing attempted with the walk down stairs. No one besides my guards was around, leaving Sharn as the only one to hand all of my land-bound responsibilities to.

“I’m going on a big trip. One that will require the voiding of several agreements. If anyone needs to discuss their contract over the next few…. Months, tell them that discussion needs to be taken up with the Council. The relevant papers are on my desk.”

The old Orc puckered her lips, though they never moved to voice any questions. A slight nod was all she gave me before those brown dress arms were back to flowing around the desk. Now more confident in my choice of secretary, I went out the door with the team of Keltons covering all sides.

Orcs sporting clothes from dresses to leather guard armor crowded the stone street, going about to one place or task. Tens of thousands of lives, shattered by the idea of a single person. There was a sense of proportions that rebelled against such a ridiculous thing.

But that’s how it was. How many thousands of lives were thrown away on stupidity from the higher-ups in the swamps? Why would it be different he-

‘Lady?’

I looked up with closed eyes. This was not the time to fall into my thoughts, yet-

“Let's go.” I audibly commanded the group with each step forward melding into the surrounding traffic.

None of the passersby gave us notice, the visage of goat heads and a well-dressed captain having been worn into the minds of the locals beyond any curiosity. I was grateful for the disinterest as we came up to the end of the street to ascend some stone stairs leading into the grey, gaping maw of the tunnel. Worry had coursed through my mind for days, and now with nothing left to do but see the plan through, I let it run over every detail.

Turns around carts or stalls, whiffs of body odor, and a low chorus of chatter rolled through my senses without reaching the part of my mind that could pay it any real attention. By the time we were going into the thinner tunnel leading to the empty rocks above ground, I felt exhausted. Barely left my chair all day save a trip to the shower and some part of me was already eager to slam into the pillow.

The guards dealt with the lookout who opened the hatch leading onto the rocky plains with a sky of sporadic clouds trying to smother a weak sun. Where every distraction of civilization failed, winter succeeded. A freezing slap of moist air crushed even the most gut-wrenching anxiety, forcing me to focus on my surroundings. I moved up the stone stairs in a sprint with the men. No fetid air of sweaty bodies rolled over the endless rocks and boulders that stretched on for as far as could be seen. Instead, each breath brought the clean-smelling promise of a shivering death with our trek rightward.

By the time we reached the end of the path, a boat was already pushing against the ocean waves to reach our shore. The hulking mass of wood and white cloth behind the dingy had been put on lookout for my arrival since yesterday when we should have been leaving. But it was only now that I was finally shimmying into the boat and towards the ship. Waves pushed against the dinghy with the men rowing in rough sync to overcome the elements.

Hoops on both sides of the boat were quickly tied with rope and hoisted us to the deck of its bigger brother. I managed to get out of the boat and land on the wooden floor with some grace among the workers ambling about. Which I was particularly grateful for when I noticed a few of the green girls working a mop or rag among the older Keltons and humans. Some notion that they were fortunate to not have any family to worry about wormed its way deeper into me than I would admit to anyone before crushing it.

Soft swaying didn’t deter my walk towards the raised floor along the back of the ship that served as the captain's quarters and an extra vantage point for scouts. Going through the double doors brought me into what was competing to be my main residence. The dinner table on the right with white table cloth was the same as always. A bed with white sheets and red blankets rested on the left, over the huge fur rug that took up almost as much floor as the wood itself. All illuminated with the faint light from the windows taking up most of the back with their curtains pulled open.

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As tempting as the beds call was, I managed to make it to the desk in the back middle with minimum grumbling. Time passed with the occasional peek inside from a sailor to inform me of the goods being moved out to the warehouse or the new orphan crew brought on board. It was at the suns dying hour, when the only flicker of orange light to be found was from a candle on the left of my desk, that a member of my kind knocked before coming in.

“Quality can be hard to ascertain in most things.” A half-remembered voice announced as Bellog presented herself. She bore the same blood-colored vest matching her red irises in black spheres behind copper-rimmed glasses. The vest covered a slightly worn white shirt, though the brown pants seemed to be new. No amount of clothing could hide the skinny frame of its wearer, even with the sharp chin and nose making it clear that the lack of fat was due to her natural state rather than starvation. “Construction has the one infallible indicator, however.”

The woman emphasized the coming point by swinging the door back and forth, making her glasses jiggle with the motion.

“Can’t lie or trick that kind of precision into existence. To think the Waveborn and smugglers always put on a show of roughness.”

Those red eyes made a pointed look towards the undeniably posh bed.

“It came with the acquisition.” I shrugged with mild interest. “Of course, they weren’t considerate enough to give the rest of the accommodations such treatment.”

Bellog bit her lower lip before coming forward.

“Perhaps you can amend the injustice with this. It’s for our goods and your payment. If it’s not enough for the latter, I have the assurance of the treasury that you will be made whole.” She intoned with a reach inside her red vest.

Thin fingers pulled out a pregnant leather sack. That delicious clang of metal intensified with each step towards me, reaching its crescendo with a toss onto the desk. My hands moved with a steady gait, picking up with the pouch and opening it with as disinterested a look as I could manage. Candle light reflected off silver then a hint of gold.

An unceremonious upending of the leather sack produced a small pile of silver coin and three golden coins. All I could give it was an appreciative nod before placing them back in the bag by the handful.

“Oh, Gula, do try to enjoy the moment.” Bellog teased with a smile. “Coin has such a fantastic sensation on the skin and so much of it will be gone when the bills are paid.”

I took special care to keep one of the gold coins out. When the others were placed where they belonged, that solitary piece was left to shine on the desk. It was probably more than a decade of work back in the swamps. Just raw pay, both from the military and drug running, as no coin ever stayed long in our home before being whisked away to the market. Not that I had a real idea of how much a gold coin was really worth.

Pinching the glistening disk between my thumb and forefinger, I pondered on how many miles of cloth or carts of meats I could have bought with it back in those impoverished days. Wealth, and all the possibilities therein, held in a thumb-sized piece of metal. It….Agreed with me.

“Now that’s being a smuggler.” Bellog purred with a small nod emphasizing her coy smile.

“Was I not before?” I asked, raising an eyebrow to the woman. “There seems to have been a lot of goods being offloaded from my ship, at good profit.”

She puckered her lips, that smile shifting into a smirk.

“Smugglers have a bit of a ruthless air about them. Not killers, but their blood still runs cold. You? Well, you’ve made good coin, but there have been no merchants talking of legal robbery as they walked from your warehouse nor did you turn away the orphans, though you could have gotten better workers for the same coin.”

“I give people what they deserve, no more or less,” I stated while carefully placing the golden treasure with its siblings and dropping the sack in a drawer.

“That uncharacteristic generosity will come in handy for us, however.” Bellog continued as I looked back up to meet her steady gaze. “It will be an hour or so until the workers have been made comfortable.”

“And when will they be told of their lacking return trip?”

Her bald head tilted side-to-side for a bit with her eyes looking up, a bit lip showing deep thought.

“We should arrive at the harbor in ten days if my scant knowledge of sailing this far north is accurate. Two days into it should be far enough away that they won’t suggest turning around yet give them the time to process where their butts will be freezing in the future. I’ll be handling the dirty work of delivering the news, so don’t worry about preparing a grand speech. The only item left is what you intend to do if we run into a Bodding ship. They aren’t as numerous on this side of the icy caps, more concerned about the islands closer to their lands and the Cradle itself, but I’ve heard they still venture this way on occasion.” She stated with a look of mute interest.

“Scouting,” I stated with a disinterested shrug. “My first mate will say a local merchant or noble wanted us to get a detailed map of the area. Any questions about that will be thrown on the fuss created by the pirates, we’re not paid to ask those questions, and such. If they want to inspect... Well, the ballistae aren't for decoration and the Frojan below deck have made significant contributions to this ship with their water magic. No one will catch us save the Mist Pirates.”

“One last item,” Bellog said with a raised finger and coy smile. “I think it would be best to combine our list of goods as I assume you want to get some metal workings there. It’s easier to get deals for a government than a single ship. Not to mention such a wrangling will also cost us time. Time that many, many lives depend on.”

The sigh of relief managed to stay down my throat. Thankful that I wouldn’t have to put my non-existent negotiating skills on display, I slowly nodded. Bellog gave me a light bow before leaving to soak in the crashing waves and bitter cold. The appointed hour arrived and Geoff came in, his bald cap reflecting a burning torches light.

“Permission to shove off, Captain.” He asked with a smile in his leather skin and some mirth in those green eyes.

“Granted,” I replied, placing the official order from Sally down.

The door was closed, leaving me to lick my fingers and extinguish the reading candle on the left. Starlight was particularly scant this night, leaving my better vision only just outlining that wonderful bed. The order had been remembered and copied just in case it was lost, the payment secured, and any work to get underway was dealt with by my first mate and navigator. Honestly any one of the sailors would know what to do. Plush pillows called and I did nothing to resist as black oblivion took me.

As impossible as it may have seemed, it got colder the next day. And the next day colder still. Baloo and the Frojan rarely went above deck but even there was getting too cold. Some hidden heating crafts were deployed to help them and Lokkan endure, which meant the refugees were kept away. It was all a lot of work that I was thankful only rarely made its way to me.

The chilly tedium was finally interrupted by shouting outside my door. I almost dragged myself out of the room before Geoff came in to tell me Bellog was explaining to the workers the real purpose of their visit to the famed Cradle. I left those smaller tasks to the crew and the careful perusing of the seas to my mother flying above while I pondered the monumental work of figuring out how to best my husband in bed.

Somewhere along the way the cold became freezing. Not a brisk sting over the skin to be endured, but an assault trying to drain any life it found. Sleep was done in full attire and weak beer accompanied every meal as any water would be ice within minutes of being above deck. It made getting the needed goods from the crew, be they hinges, pots, or armor more painful as I had to peruse the decks for any items that looked like they were due for replacement.

Aside from that, the days were spent pondering plans of pleasurable attack and ecstatic defense, leaving me unaware of the full track of the week. About the fifth day, I was a bit worried that no Bodding ships were currently about. Bellog said they should patrolling and I would be worried that we missed them if not for mother confirming their absence. No interruption came until Bellog barged back into my office.

“We’re here.” She offered with a thick-furred cap sticking out over her head. I almost jumped out of the chair, making the red scarf around my neck and thick fur coat flop with the motion.

Coming out onto the deck, I was greeted with the typical waves on the right, though the biting wind ambling over them had a particular viciousness that the southern waters lacked. The left side held a visage of rocky desolation. Unlike the mole-sheared ones in Crasden, the rocks here had a more natural erosion to them with wind and water running through the land to leave smooth stones sticking out of white snow. Nature gave me a taste of those forces with a strong gust through my clothes which matched the clouds of billowing snow out over the dead land.

What drew my eyes was the wide mountains far away from the shore. Along where the mountaintops should be were wide square towers on the peaks that had the jutting dirt replaced with stone where it rested on its host. I could pick out two large ones on the left and one on the right that almost completely replaced the natural peak. On the lower mountains were more towers that properly capped the mounds, replacing whatever nature had intended to finish. Their dimensions and true size were hard to judge from this distance but I wanted to say they were the size of castles done into a single shaft of brickwork. All bathed in the orange of a dying sun.

The large town of lifeless stone between the mountains and the ocean was easier to judge. Far from the haphazard placement of buildings I typically associated with my kinds dwellings, the large boxes of grey rock were placed in neat and distinctive rows, allowing a clear view of the road leading towards the mountains on the other side of the town. The houses material matched the floor of magical masonry, which made no attempt to meld into its surroundings even with the blanket of snow. A wide slab of that grey stone served as a base for the whole town and seemingly pushing out the natural stone to do so.

I scoured for a few seconds until I confirmed the lack of any plants. None of the houses suffered so much as a vine on their frames nor was a blade of grass to be seen for miles along any direction. It lent the place an air of the abandoned by Orc, Man, and nature, something only undone by the torches held by a pack of my kind approaching the stone dock we were pulling into.

Almost a dozen puffs of furs ran up to the pier. Their faces were hidden by cloth over their mouths and goggles of glass that only just revealed the green skin beneath all of the brown hides. Despite the inability to see their expressions, their bows undrawn swords and bows promised a welcome greeting.

I almost walked towards the plank being readied before Bellog stepped out of the crowd of onlookers, covered in similar furs and a matching head-encomapssing cap. Content to let her fulfill her role as ambassador, a hasty retreat was made back into the office. The next few minutes were spent adjusting some ill-fitting fur gloves and looking through my desk for the order. In an hour, everything I could think of that would provide distraction was done twice over, leaving me to lean down on the desk until Bellog came back in with a gust of winter. A quick look up said nothing good, as her bit lip and worried red eyes behind copper glasses told of an uncomfortable conversation coming. A cross of my arms made it clear I wanted little preamble, which she obliged.

“They want to talk with you.”

I stared uncomprehendingly at her.

“Why?”

“The diplomat, Ferrag, is interested in the only ship that’s sailed up here in years.”

A few seconds passed before I realized that was all she was going to say.

“Is that all?” I demanded.

Bellog simply shrugged.

“We are to be transported before the refugees and hear her proposal, which she assured me was quite lucrative and something any smuggler would reach for. Any real smuggler, at least.”

The provocation was delivered with a smile and answered in the same manner.

“Perhaps next time I’ll bring an envoy. A real envoy that can conduct diplomacy without my intervention.” I offered with a rise out of the chair.

Bellog bit her lip, shifting her fur-covered head to the right while I retrieved my sword from beneath my bed and fastened its holster on my hip.

“An envoy that commits to a potential years-long deal without your input sounds like a fantastic idea. If you crave such adventurous negotiation, you can always tell Nersa you want someone else. It’d hurt to miss wonderful trips like these but my heart may endure the disappointment.

But as the current and uncomfortably present representative of the council, I must press upon you the supreme importance of not mentioning the situation in Crasden or our plan. There are…. Many complications involved with the route Nersa has taken us on.”

Our conversation ended with me giving a small nod as I passed by into the blistering cold. Unlike the base even further up north, the land around the town wasn’t covered in white pools of salt that reflected the dying sun. That left the senses to fully appreciate just how horrifically cold it was. Nature never cared for my comfort, so I walked over to the right to go down the plank without complaint, surrounded by four Kelton guards who seemed more at ease in these freezing lands with their single fur coats.

The small crowd around me moved down onto the stone pier. One of the locals pointed towards the end of the road leading onto the plains that preceded the mountains. No words were exchanged as we followed our apparent caretaker. A crunch of snow beneath each step filled the ears where the wind died down before picking back up. It was nearly two feet of white fluff mixed with slush. I was waiting for it to get into my boots and freeze my toes with each step, a discomfort my unusually well-made clothes were able to prevent.

Taking a quick look around, I noticed that only one of the Cradle Orcs was accompanying us. I thought they were rather trusting until I saw torches in a few of the windows illuminating an archer looking at us. A few minutes more of walking took us toward the edge of the town and landed us on the road with only a few inches of snow.

“Wait!” Our guide yelled to the group. “The winds can pick up, leaving you blind to anything more than an arm away. The carriage will arrive soon, so don’t wander until it does.”

I raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Standing out in the open disagreed with me. Five minutes of being so exposed, an openness my time in the forests and swamps of the Coalition helped blossom into a feeling of skittishness, and I was ready to turn back when the carriage pulled out of the snowy winds into eyesight. The front was a long half-circle of wood that churned through the snow with wagon wheels in the typical positions. The rest was sturdy walls and a triangular roof closer to that of a house.

Our guide ushered us forward. As we came up to the wooden box somewhere between a shed and a small house, the Kelton guards insisted on being in the front to inspect it. Getting a proper look at the side revealed there to be no driver or a pair of horses shielded inside the board housing as I had envisioned. The carriage was nothing but a box and a curved front, yet it had moved to the town all the same.

Any curiosity I had about it was pushed aside as our Orc guide moved herself to the side and opened a door, pulling down a small ladder with the swing of the wooden entrance. We filed in one at a time with two of the Keltons going first. Taking another look at the carriages front allowed Bellog to come up from behind me, which left me mildly irritated as she dove off to the left. The petty thought was pushed aside with my steps up and the sudden steadiness that came with not having to fight the wind to stay up.

The room was a wide rectangle with benches that reached the ends of the long sides. No upholstery or decorations were to be found but the wood was a solid dark oak and when I moved three places down to the right, my butt had no objections aside from the expected iciness of the surface.

Once the guards were sitting around me, the door was shut by the last arriving man, suddenly cutting off the soft howls of the wind. The guide moved towards the front and lifted a previously unnoticed metal hatch near the wall. Her hands sank into the hole before she did an exaggerated lift on what sounded like a rope. Nothing came up, though, as she shut the metal slab and plopped down on the left bench opposite of me with the faint light out of some windows above shining down on her.

A question worked its way up my tongue, almost reaching past my lips before the cart suddenly jolted forward. The pace was steady, unlike the occasional jerk of animal drawn carriages. A small sigh of relief escaped the cloth face wrap of the fur-covered Orc as she leaned back into the bench.

“Word of warning.” She announced to the group. “When we stop, I’ll go out first. Because either we’ve arrived or the rope’s snapped. The latter has a lot of other rules that I’ll explain if it happens, just don’t get too hasty and it’ll be fine.”

With that, she resumed her relaxation. We all followed her lead, though no one attempted to remove their clothes in that way people settling in usually did. Even when out of the wind, the cold this far north was still deadly without added layers. The next hour or so was spent perusing the clouds leaving my lungs until the carriage finally came to a less than gradual halt. If the guide was caught off guard, it wasn’t apparent in the way she got up and moved to open door while the rest of us were still swaying forward.

There was a distinct wave of cold that rolled over the meager heat that had accumulated in the carriage before the guide shut it behind her. More minutes of nothing passed by until the door was pulled again.

“We’ve arrived.” The guide announced.

Two of the brown-furred Keltons moved out of the carriage. Their exit wasn’t accompanied by shouts or the clanging of steel, so I got up and followed. Stepping out into the open brought no wind and it felt less bone-chilling than it should. The reason became apparent when I realized the endless snow in front of me was a stone wall that had been covered in that white draping.

A look to the left was more colorful as a wide palisade of black and grey stone acted as a barrier between the wa….

My vision trailed up the side of the stone walls for a solid second as the comprehension that I was at the foot of a vast mountain range finally dawned. The highest specimens sides were accompanied by a few lower siblings but the peaks were too high to properly make out and sheer to a degree that made the prospect of walking under them feel dangerous. In most places, it wasn’t due to the work of nature.

Around the two cliff faces was stone bearing the mark of hands with brick patterns and the sharp corners of design. Most were hewn into the mountainside like a huge slab of castle wall while a few towers peeked out over the road or as a lookout spot on a sheer cliff. All of them sported wooden boards serving as windows or a rope reaching across the air towards the other side of the road, one of which had a bucket sliding down towards the right. From this angle, the previously seen peaks were hard to discern as the two jutting walls on both sides seemed to reach the heavens. Even having seen it from the town, I was totally unprepared for the sheer scale of civilization before me.

Orc civilization.

A cough from my left shattered the moment of wonder.

I gave the waiting guide by the carriage an apologetic nod before following her jaunt towards the entrance. Smooth stone in front of the gate peeked out where snow thinned, revealing grey and black rectangles that matched the pattern on the wall and its small towers dotting the top. Five stories of jutting indifference reminded me of warmer lands so far away, though the hail of oncoming arrows was a bit that would hopefully stay a memory. My expectation of a delay at the wide double gate of wood and iron bands was left unfulfilled as they swung out like a welcoming hug.

Passing through revealed a wide corridor of open road with mountains on each side. Any natural rock or surface had been replaced by cobbled ground or brick walls. Along the sides were more boarded windows, some square ones higher up while others were just above the ground and wide enough so that shops within could sling goods to the currently non-existent traffic outside. A few Orcs were walking around in thick furs but winter had driven all the other occupants indoors.

None of which involved worry about being spotted by humans like in Crasden or making adjustments for the Frojan who actually owned the land like back in the swamps. This grand mountain city stretched on for as far as could be seen among the peaks and slopes and not an inch of it belonged to anyone but Orcs. Not of us but still for us all the same. I knew almost nothing of this place, and less of life here, but a sense of possessiveness over it still welled up in my heart. Looking further ahead I saw the road go up then down before the vision died out in a haze of snow whipping around.

Our trek down the left wall suffered a few blows of wind and no delays as anyone coming in the opposite direction yielded to our group's mass with a quick skip to the side. It was a minute of plodding through the occasional mound of snow until the wall gave way to a double door of wood and banded iron.

The guide pulled on the door handle and threw out a hand to allow us ahead of her. We plowed inside to be greeted with the closest thing to heat I had felt the entire trip. It was a wide hallway of grey/black stone with doors on opposite sides about a stone toss away. At the end was a blank wall that seemed to split off in two opposite directions, though the singular color pattern everywhere and dim light from mana lamps along the ceiling made it hard to be sure. The fur covered Orc moved further ahead and coughed into her cloth mask as we followed behind.

“Ferrag is currently informing the council of your arrival. I suppose misfortune can bring benefit to others. Great benefits if the size of such a grand ship is anything to judge.” She offered over her shoulder.

My first instinct wasn’t charitable but I chose to assign simple thoughtlessness to her personality.

“The poor people we’ve dragged from their homes probably feel like they’ve not benefited from these events.” I put in with a raised eyebrow as we approached the end of the hallway.

“A refugee lives better here than a free woman anywhere else. Neither the predators of the wilds nor those who make our daughters stalk these lands and we have the means to keep them out. That and a full belly are more than I ever had outside the Cradle.”

The allure of a steady meal wasn’t easily dismissed, but there was a tidbit in the middle that needed explaining.

‘Bellog,’ I asked in a spirit connection with the Orc to my right. ‘It sounded like the humans aren’t welcome here.’

‘If you had the only place in the world where your people could roam free, would you risk letting in the race trying to exterminate you?’ The red-eyed woman asked with a sideways glance as we were taken right down another long hallway sporting oddly spaced doors.

No questions about how they were keeping their population up needed to be asked, as they were probably using visits to other towns sporting the relationships I saw back in Crasden. Still, voluntarily recreating some of the conditions of the swamps wouldn’t be what I envisioned for my kinds paradise. Any issues I took with the practice were best left unsaid and remained so with our turn left.

I struggled to maintain a mental map of the underground maze after only a minute of more turning in at the end of hallways. Along certain points were the names of places and arrows showing which direction to go but none of them were named ‘Exit’ and if there was such a label, it certainly wouldn’t be the one we came in through. After a few minutes, I noticed what I wasn't feeling. There was no smell. No body sweat, plant life, or soil. My nose only picked up the faint whiffs of moisture and fragrance from our group. Otherwise, it was completely clean and despite how unsavory the Underground was in that respect, I couldn't say I much cared for this either. That was quickly pushed aside for another failing.

“Were the humans who made this maze trying to get people lost?” I asked the guide as we made another left turn.

“Yes, actually.” She responded with a smile below a sharp nose and above a stubby chin, her cloth mask having since been removed as the temperature under the mountain became tolerable. “It’s why the ambassador and Council are here. These used to be the holding pens for our kind. It provides a decent defense and keeps our leaders fully aware of what failure here will mean for our people.”

“What were the humans doing here with us anyway? I’ve heard some king named Ballud lost the territory to us but I wasn’t told what we were doing here in the first place. I’d head it was a big mine or a place to test disease on us.”

The guide did an exaggerated nod as we trekked down yet another hallway. A major difference this time was a wide circular cage at the end. It fit snugly into the alcove and the door on its other side was closed. On the sides of the entrance were guards. They sported gleaning swords and sturdy shields of thin metal with a painting of a sun peaking over a flat plain. Aside that, their armor was comprised of leather limb pieces, a thick helmet, and a chest plate.

“We were the main purpose and not for getting boils and coughs.” The guide put in with a nod to the two soldiers. The green guards opened the cage and a tight squeeze barely let all of us into the holding pen. Once the cage door was closed, the guide pulled on a rope dangling near the center. A second passed but the opposite door still remained closed. I was getting ready to ask what the hold-up on the other side was before an unexpected jerk nearly sent me to my knees.

A small whoosh of air accompanied the distinct stomach churn of quick movement. I looked around to see mana lamps embedded in the wall zip downward. Having figured out that we were being dragged upward, my heart calmed a bit. It didn’t slow to normal, however. My ears filled with clanking metal and, despite being far closer to the ground, I felt less safe in it than the airship. Untold millennia of ability wasn’t poured into this contraption and the slight give in the metal side from an elbow made sent my heart pounding again. Fortunately, the guide resumed her lesson.

“The story Ballud sold was that they were developing diseases to target our kind. A good show was made of it, with bottles and gangerous green limbs being produced before the families and ambassadors. All a lie and not just to the peasantry who were told this was a mine. Even having lost territory to the Orc horror and wasted no small fortune, the lie was far better than the truth.

This place was made to produce Orc mages.”

Any concern for the construction of the cage evaporated like morning mist under the sun. Everything besides the guide and her words were pushed aside as every face, Orc and Kelton, turned to the fur-covered woman. The reaction seemed expected, as she continued without a second of hesitation.

“As big a threat to the humans as we are, the demons are far deadlier. Somewhere out on the west section of the Bodding empire is a long slab of dirt connecting to the Lost Lands. That bridge requires a constant stream of blood to keep defended. I’ve never met a demon save….”

She slipped an awkward look at the Keltons. They saw it but were not offended, or at least didn’t do anything to make their displeasure known.

“Well, apparently they’re extremely deadly. So much so that mages are realistically the only ones who can kill them without committing dozens of fully armored soldiers to a single demon. I can’t say how expensive cultivating such magical talent is, but the burden is enough that the Rodring and Bodding nations were going to try and twist Garren’s great gift to fight that battle for them.

How it may have worked out will remain an unanswered question. There was a fault in some of the holding walls. Something that was made apparent when the great day of revolution came. A massive battle left the guard overwhelmed with our bravery and skill.

There was some sour with the sweet. The humans slit the throats of the magically sired babes, often on the teets of their mothers who soon followed them into death. But the papers are still here and I’ve heard there’s other items that could convince people of the reason this city in a mountain was made.”

“That’s why they’ve let this territory stay taken,” I said to no one in particular. “Taking it back would almost certainly ruin the families that signed off on its creation.”

The guide’s red eyes were wide now and the smile face-splitting. The excitement of a child permeated the grown woman with heavy breaths that didn’t match any physical labor.

“It’s also due to how isolated the Cradle is. They put us out here so that any escape would be dealt with by the weather or predators. An attempt to siege us was made at some point. Sadly for them, they made our home as self-sufficient as possible to keep the coming and going of outsiders scarce.

Here is where destiny will deliver us. The Cradle is the only place where a captured mage could be held in secrecy and sire our victory into the next generation. All possible because of those who have hunted us since birth. That is why a refugee here is better than any leader anywhere else. For it is here that Garren’s grand vision will be realized.”

A bit of spittle emphasized the final word as it fell onto the floorboards.

Any questions were cut short as a blast of light from behind me filled the cage. I turned to see yet another long hallway with guards by the door. The guide moved to the head of the group before getting out of the cage. We followed like chicks after their mother.

Tactically, it would have been wise to keep a full mental map of the turns and stairs taken towards the ambassador. That bit of wisdom was undone on the fifth or sixth samey shaft of stone, where I stumbled the thread of thought before losing all the mentally reserved steps previously taken.

An additional minute of walking was all it took before we came up to guarded double doors. Unlike the living statues at the elevators, one of the women came up with a bored expression on her face that matched the listless look in her red eyes.

“Only one guard is to accompany the captain and her envoy. The three will be inspected for weapons which will be kept with us for the duration of the visit.”

The biggest Kelton man stepped forward with a nod of his brown-furred head. Leather-covered hands felt me up and down, groping for any knives hidden around the boot or stashed in the pockets of the jacket. The only item taken was the one displayed, with my sword in holster being taken and laid to the side. Bellog’s turn eventually came followed by our one accompanying guard. Our inspector nodded towards the other two guards, who promptly opened the double doors.

Our trio moved into a huge room of more grey and black flecked stone. The second biggest difference was a long window on the left that revealed the firelight of towers and rolling tundras further beyond all blanketed in starlight. Some notion of beauty came to me but it had no chance of catching my attention away from the room's biggest difference. A wave of temperature approaching warm poured through my furs, clothes, and skin.

“They do soothe clacking teeth, these fire blocks.”

The voice came from directly ahead and the Orc who owned the voice immediately reminded me of Nersa. Sitting at an immaculate-looking granite desk made of sharp angles and inlaid gold, sat a green woman with short golden hair that barely brushed soft cheekbones. Her sharp chin below a patient smile didn’t touch the white undershirt or fine brown coat. Red eyes took me in while the two guards on either side of her stood still as statues. Their lack of shivering was helped by the thick fur neck guards in their steel chest plates. There was a bit more muscle sticking through the clothes on the presumed diplomat than most and, while older, no grey had touched her scalp. Despite that, there was a core of quiet dignity that immediately brought me back to my first meeting with the council in Crasden.

“Blocks?” I asked with as much confidence as I could scrape up.

Her head dipped to the right. A perusing of the floor revealed a square of wood molded into the stone. There was another on the left side of the desk closer to the window.

“Enchanted with fire magic. Can keep a room feeling like a bonfire with no fuel.” The Orc put in again.

Be impressed. It’s entirely inferior to what the Base has, but the Base doesn’t exist and I’m just a very lucky smuggler. I took an extra second to stare at the blocks, trying to determine their worth in coin.

“How much for one of those?” I asked with a light tone as our group walked closer to the desk.

Bellog coughed on my left but the ambassador at the desk only smiled.

“That’s the problem with items so valuable. You’re left with something you’ll never actually put on the merchant's scale for fear of being cheated. Of course, those are artifacts going back to the founding of our people, and any attempt to give even one away, for any amount of coin, is punished with an axe through the neck in a crowded stadium.”

In spite of my best efforts, the surprise at such a harsh measure must have still shown up on my face upon our arrival at the desk.

“Aside from the sentimental value,” Ferrag said, “We have no means of replacing any lost magical items. Our stocks of plant crafts are kept in the strictest security and even those for mere comfort, like these heating crafts, are essential for our survival. But the debris of human hubris isn’t enough to meet all needs.”

She took a deep breath, breaking the visage of authority for a moment before continuing.

“I’m sure you noticed the lack of Bodding ships on the way,” Ferrag stated with a raised eyebrow.

“The expected need to explain our presence never came,” I confirmed.

The diplomat leaned forward, casually resting her elbows on the desk.

“What do you know of our history?”

“A quick lesson on the way up here,” I answered honestly with a slight shrug. “The Rodring kingdom, and I assume the Bodding kingdom if they’re still patrolling the waters, created this place to make Orc mages that would be used as fodder against the demons out west.”

“Correct, on the past and assumptions.” Ferrage agreed with a nod that shifted those blond locks. “And that past is what drew them away. Something big happens on the Demon Coast and the Bodding have to pull those patrols. Their misfortune occurs every few generations or so and such a time came about a month ago. Our move is to send a message down through the Bloody Plains, which will work its way to the smugglers who then make the trip here from ports along the coast to the west, always at great expense and nearly a years time after the start.

That a smuggler has arrived only a month after sending out the letter is a matter of great opportunity for both of us. Wood is nice and can be grown at great expense from the plant crafts. But even those wonders of magic can only grow so much. More than any plants; furs, leather, and meat can’t be acquired in the same manner, however many plant crafts we have. A very profitable, and enduring, trade could be had. In between the saving of precious souls, of course.”

My mouth opened to ask about what I could buy here but the sensation of static ran along my left arm.

‘This is a matter of diplomacy between Crasden and the Cradle. I should lead the negotiation.’ Bellog whispered into my mind with a pointed push of her copper glasses into her eyes.

I made a slow head turn to the woman.

‘You want to negotiate on the use of MY ship? Collective bargaining for prices is one thing, this is weeks and months of commitments.’

‘The things being put on it. So, kind of.’ She stated plainly, ignoring the biting words. ‘Even if you have a large back stock somewhere, it won’t be anywhere nearly as much as those in our storehouses or so close if you travel over the sea to get them. I have some rough figures on hand for trade and am the acting representative of Crasden, imbued with the authority to approve such deals and burn through regulation to make it happen.

You told Nersa you want a more sustained relationship beyond simple transactions, did you not?’

My words in the underground office had flown over the windy ocean to smack me across the face. There was a slight irritation from having lost the engagement mixed with the relief that I wouldn’t have to rummage the pockets of the poor and desperate to keep up the charade. An exaggerated sigh escaped from my nose.

‘I promise you no less than twice your normal rate.’ Bellog offered with the slight sweetness one would use to coax a toddler.

‘Fine.’ I finally spat out.

Our wrangling finished, the council representative turned towards Ferrag.

“Meats are not easy to come by, though our city has been blessed with a streak of great misfortune and opportunity. Things are in…. An uncertain state and I’m sure a lot of people will have to lighten their pockets. The Council has several shipments worth of leather and salted meats ready to immediately export and will have a list of goods available on the next trip.”

Bellog pulled out the paper with our combined order.

“Some cargo for the return trip.” She stated with a lean forward.

Ferrag took the page and looked it up and down. The red irises in black spheres whipped back and forth, getting wider with each line. At the finish, the diplomat puckered her lips and gave a low whistle before placing it on the desk.

“I can’t say I’m familiar with our abode in Crasden but this seems rather hefty for even a capital city.” She put in with a casual tone that didn’t reflect the piercing question in her gaze.

“There are the needs for the now and the needs for the future,” Bellog responded, sporting a lifeless smile.

For a blink of an eye, I thought Ferrag’s eyebrows furrowed. The moment of emotion passed so quickly that I had a flicker of doubt about whether it had happened at all.

“And meeting those needs comes with payment.”

The bald woman tipped her fur-capped head towards me. My step forward was a bit heavy as I took out the leather sack and handed off more money than I had ever owned. Ferrag casually took out the coins and looked them over before placing the pouch down.

“The exact prices are not on hand, sadly. It will take a few meetings with the head of smiths and other officials. You are more than welcome to have your crew disembark and lounge in the forward town or even here. I can personally attest that magically grown food is as delicious as those brought about with only dirt and water.”

‘No.’ Bellog commanded in the spirit connection.

“I was under the impression humans weren’t welcome. Save a few young girls in training, all my crew are Keltons and men.” I offered in a voice that kept the irritation out.

“How unfortunate.” Ferrag tutted with a disappointed tone. “The invitation does extend to you. A trip back will be in winter's heart at its coldest and darkest, too bitter to bring the refugees from the town.”

‘No.’ Bellog repeated in my head.

True warmth hadn’t touched my skin this past week or so and it would take a lot to convince me to go another night of icy breathing when I didn’t have to. It would take Eli begging on his knees to get me to leave the only land solely ruled by Orcs without perusing.

‘I want to see their forges, at least.’

The real reason being I wanted to compare them to the workshop back at the Base. Left unsaid, of course

Bellog bit her lip, making sure to keep her red eyes on me and not on Ferrag politely waiting for the answer.

‘Don’t mention anything about our plans.’

‘I remember.’

Any irritation was hopefully kept out of my voice as I turned towards Ferrag.

“A look around sounds wonderful. Seeing more of these magic wonders does pique my interest.”

She smiled while the guard on her right stepped forward.

“Orbul will be shepherding you around. I’m giving you access to the foundry and the farms, if you want to go that far, in a token of good relations. However, you will have to undergo a groping before and after each visit to those areas. Meals and room will be provided, so don’t worry about a lack of means.”

The red eyes of our new minder scoured the group for a second before walking up to us. Her steel chestplate matched the arm guards and holstered sword. Bellog reacted with a smile and a light bow to Ferrag.

“I’ll be back when the final orders are to be made. Until then, a good day.”

Ferrag reflected the smile, giving a slight dip of her chin with the sack of coins being handed to Bellog, who placed the precious handful inside her coat.