The chief spun around and walked to the door, showing a grace a man of his size shouldn’t have been able to attain. He stood at the door, back turned, silently waiting for Veil to stand and follow him. Veil stood slowly. Four days in a cot had made his body stiff.
“Gruh,” Veil sounded as he stood.
“You coming, Beast Master?” the chief asked, peering over his shoulder.
“Yes, I’m just a little-” Veil paused. “Yes, I’m coming.” Veil walked stiffly to the chief.
“Good, come, let’s head out,” the chief said, stepping into the hall.
The hall was adorned with hand-woven tapestries, each one showing a different battle with mythical creatures. Each of the creatures was being slain by a different green man, their arms rippled with muscles, their bodies adorned with various armors in great detail. The warriors had one thing in common: each of them had a giant battle axe. As Veil passed from one mural to the next, taking in the gruesome story of each, the chief spoke. He explained the stories of the scenes, recalling the mythology for each epic fight, each one to the death. The last of the murals was different. It showed a giant man in humble clothing, planting a single seed into the ground.
“What’s going on here?” Veil stopped and asked after a moment.
“Ah, yes,” the chief proclaimed, “that is the mural of our greatest chief. His name was Weyd. I am named after him. In our language, it means wise. He saw that we, the orcs, were spread out. We had no home, and he planted the seed of unity within our hearts.”
Veil looked from the mural towards the chief. “The seed of unity?”
“Yes. The tree sprouted, and as it grew in power, the orc race came together as one. We owe him our entire way of life,” the chief said.
“That’s amazing,” Veil replied. “What happened to the tree? Where is it?”
“That is the question, is it not?” the chief replied. “Over the years, we became more… I think the word is domesticated. Our tusks shrunk, and we went from the warriors you saw in the murals before you to farmers and sheep herders. Then the Great War came, and the king demanded we fight. You see, the king grew up on stories of the great orc warriors, and he called to us to aid him. So we did. And for that, we lost our way.”
“How did you lose your way?” Veil asked, an air of awe in his voice.
“Some of our people wanted to help the king. Humans had always been good to us. They taught us how to farm. They taught Weyd about the trees and how they grow. They had laid the groundwork for us coming together. So when the call came, they joined the king’s war,” the chief replied.
“And the others, what did they want to do?” Veil asked.
“The others wanted to stay and honor our new way of life as farmers. They wanted to go against our allies and let them falter. Four months is what the king had given us to make a choice and join him. In those four months, we had gone from a united people to a divided species. The Unity Tree is thought to have begun to wilt and then to have died away. Others believe that it simply walled itself off with its magic, tainted. It had no reason to aid us as we had forsaken its very essence. We cannot know for sure what happened, but it is believed that you will find the tree and bring us all to peace once again.”
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“Me?” Veil asked, placing his hand over his heart.
“Yes, you, Beast Tamer. That is the first of the three great quests that the prophecies demand of you.”
“Three great quests?”
“Yes. In truth, there were four, but you’ve already tamed one of the wolves of Long Forest.”
“Long Forest?” Veil asked. “Why is it called Long Forest?”
“Fae magic plagues the Long Forest, and as long as you stay on the path, the forest will never let you go. It is one of the many remnants of the Great War. I would like to ask you questions about how you escaped and how you even found yourself trapped in the forest. There are many signs in many languages warning adventurers about not treading into its depths, but Grok informs me that is where you appeared from.” The chief looked around for a moment. “But we must go. Time waits for no man, not even the Beast Tamer. And by now, I am sure the elders are waiting on the edge of their seats to vet you.
“Vet me?”.
“Exactly. Now come, we have dallied enough,” the chief said, turning away from the murals and continuing down the hall.
As they walked through the long hallway, Veil continued to be amazed at the apparent vast wealth of the orcs. Gold adorned almost every aspect of the hall until they came to a rough, worn-down wooden case with a glass top. The chief stopped for a moment and peered inside.
“Come, look,” he said. As Veil made his way over to the case, the chief put a hand on his shoulder. “This is the axe that provided its wielder the ability to fell any beast. It protected every orc that you have seen today, every orc that you saw in each of the murals we’ve spoken about, and continues to protect us to this very day. It is called Pèrtis.”
Veil looked down into the case and saw the axe he now felt familiar with. Or rather, seven large pieces of the axe. The hilt was worn with age, the metal rust-pocked. “It’s broken.”
The chief’s face became sullen as he looked over to Veil. “Yes, another of the side effects of losing our connection with the Unity Tree. Our magic waned slowly at first, but then more swiftly as we traveled the many months to make it to the kingdom. Until finally, even the magic of Pèrtis died out, and it shattered. But even still, it protects us. Each of our warriors, upon the day of their graduation, comes into this hall and lays their hand upon its mighty hilt to pay homage to those who came before them,” the chief said.
“Graduation?” Veil asked.
“Yes, each of our children upon their 14th birthday join the training academy and learn to be warriors. It is our greatest duty to serve the king and protect our community. But,” the chief said with a wink, “our students who receive the best marks get special compensation. They receive a choice: go out into the world and search for the tree, which many never return, or become a member of the honor guard, our most elite force of warriors tasked with not only protecting the village but also the elders and, under extreme circumstances, the chief,” he said with a smile, looking around the well-lit hall. “Come, we really must go.”
As they walked, the chief continued to speak of lore, mythology, and asked Veil several questions. “So, what do you think, Veil? If given the choice, what would you choose? Would you stay and become an honor guard, which I assure you is the greatest of honors, or would you choose to go out into the world?” the chief asked with both uncertainty and hope in his voice.
“Uhm, honestly,” Veil thought, mumbling his words. “I would likely choose to go out into the world. The Unity Tree sounds really important to your people, and the task of finding it sounds like such an important thing to your entire race,” Veil said hesitantly.
“I was afraid you would say that,” the chief said, crestfallen once again.
“Why?” Veil asked.
“My son, Grok, is set to graduate at the end of this year. I fear Grok will choose to leave. It is an honor to all to have our children join the search, and even more so, the honor it would bring the tribe to have one of its sons be the one who reunites us all,” the chief said, his words cutting short.
“But you’re afraid he will die if he goes out,” Veil finished for him. “I understand.”
“I wasn’t blessed with many I can call my own. In my own right, I’d be seen as a failure of a chief, but I care deeply for my people. Anyways, we are here,” he said, stopping at a large arched doorway. “I must warn you, they may not be the nicest. You are not what we expected, but answer their questions honestly and you’ll be fine. You are the Beast Tamer after all.” The chief gave Veil a half-smile as he walked through the door, calling for Veil to wait there as he disappeared into the dark room.
“Wait, what do you mean ‘not what they expected’?” Veil called to the chief, but no reply came.