“What might be normal for some people could very well offend another to the point of declaring a blood feud.” - Old saying amongst sociologists.

“Here’s what I got off the fussy one,” said Andromarche as she brought several leather water bags, all filled with freshly squeezed milk, and handed it over towards an older orc who gathered the bags of milk together and counted them up. The milk itself came from various animals, as the orcs had all sorts of pack animals, and they milked any that happened to be providing milk when they had the chance.

It had been a few months since Andromarche lived with the Bloodfang Clan. During those times, she helped do whatever chores she could help with as the Clan continued on its path north - apparently the Clan usually visits some of their old allies in the north after each gathering, a trek that also gave the animals that populate their usual hunting grounds time to recover and repopulate - while learning the local tongue with help from Aideen and Celia.

Over those months, she had also seen for herself just how civilized - if in their own weird ways - the orcs were, unlike all the propaganda that painted them as tribal savages that ate men and raped women commonly told back where she came from. It had not taken her long to recognize smearing propaganda done on purpose once she lived amongst them, although she guessed those few captives like her who chose to leave on their own probably could not see it that way.

She was a complete stranger to them, one who had killed one of them, even, yet the Clan accepted her with open hands and treated her like she had always been one of them, with respect that at times she felt unearned. Sometimes her “feat” of slaying one of the clansmen in combat had found her fighting with one of the orcish youths, but the fight was more a vicious spar - orcs had no concepts as fighting to the first blood and even their spars generally only ended when one yielded or had been knocked out cold - than anything, with no malice behind it.

Even an older orc who gave her a sound drubbing - though Andromarche also got a few good hits of her own in - acknowledged her with a respectful nod, and some words she didn’t quite catch. It was only later that she learned that the orc was the father of the orc she killed during the battle, and that he approved of her mettle, saying something along the lines of his stupid son having all the luck to die to a worthy opponent.

It was not just there, but also in the way they did small things differently. Andromarche was accustomed to seeing people churning tubs of milk until it turned into butter back at Lavinja. On the other hand, while the orcs used butter copiously - especially with their tea-like drink - they made it in a wholly different manner compared to what was usually done in the Empire.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Instead of having the milk churned, the orcs simply allowed it to ferment for a couple of days, after which they collected the fatty solid chunks that floated to the top of the milk. Those chunks would then be stored in large fabric bags and allowed to dry out for about a week more, in some ways not unlike how cheese was sometimes made.

Yet once the curds were dried out, the orcs then heated them in large cauldrons, where the curds would separate into molten fats which would float to the top, which the orcs then collected and allowed to cool and set into butter, as well as sour chunks that tasted akin to whey, but much stronger, at the bottom of the pan.

Not even those sour bits were wasted, as they would then be mixed with fermented watery milk from the process - usually from a new batch - and then further fermented to produce a sour, milky liquor that the orcs favored. It was a thoroughly different process, and a somewhat eye-opening one for Andromarche the first time she saw it done.

Andromarche then saw Dagna come to the old orc with a similar amount of bags carried behind his shoulder. She greeted him in broken orcish, and was met with a similar greeting by the young orc as he gave her a toothy smile that looked more like a predator baring its fangs than anything. She had learnt to get used to it over the months though.

Dagna then said some words to her too quickly for her to understand with her poor orcish, so Andromarche turned to Celia, who happened to be helping the old orc with sorting the bags of milk as she asked the woman to help translate for her. To her surprise, Celia laughed out loud for a good while before she finally explained why.

“Haha- sorry about that. It’s just- he’s just propositioning you to spend a night together,” said Celia eventually, to which Andromarche felt her cheeks blush somewhat. Despite Andromarche being in her late twenties in age already, she had entirely devoted herself to the path of knighthood before, and had never put such things in her thoughts. “Mind you, it’s about exactly what you think it is. An offer for a one-night stand or more for fun’s sake, with nothing serious behind it.”

“It still baffles me how they change so much over their lives. The married ones were so loyal to each other, how did they become that from this sort of promiscuous youth?” asked Andromarche with some exasperation. “That said, I don’t think I’m… ready for that sort of thing yet. Could you help me convey it to him politely?”

“Sure thing,” said Celia as she then rattled off in orcish at Dagna, who just nodded and bid them farewell after he deposited his bags of milk. “It’s just how they are, I guess. They view their equivalent of marriage with far more seriousness than most humans do, as far as I can tell. It’s less something you do for benefits and more a true sharing of one’s heart and soul with another for them.”

“And they don’t really worry about offspring either since they likely already had some from before that,” said Andromarche with a nod of understanding. Unlike amongst humans where it was rare, couples amongst the clans came in all varieties, and often regardless of gender. She had seen couples of the same gender often, more often than not with both parties already having offspring from the dalliances of their youth prior to the coupling.

It was a whole different world to what she was used to indeed.