The battle went for far too long, and it had grown dark out. The Biters were low on fighting forces, and Learn had been advanced to the front line.

Orcs didn’t wage wars in the dark. It was these humans, without a shred of decency or etiquette, who insisted that the battle continue. They stood, orcs facing humans, each waiting for a signal from the other to wade back into war.

The standstill couldn’t last long, Learn knew. Both sides were hurt, tired. The next skirmish would be the last, and the side that made even a single misstep would be destroyed.

Learn looked to his left, at his father standing by his side. Conquer breathed heavily, and Learn could almost make out the vicious red tint in his eyes, even in the dark.

Conquer wanted to attack, to end them. Learn agreed, but held himself back.

“Let them fail,” he had offered quietly. “They’ll make the first mistake, and then we take them.” Conquer looked down at him, fury etched on his face, tusks splayed forward. For a second, Learn thought that he would be ignored, but his father inclined his head a fraction.

Minutes passed, the dry heat of the day passing into the dry calm of night, and still both armies stood. Finally, finally, Learn saw a flag approaching. White, with no symbol. He looked to Conquer, who grunted assent.

“To me!” Learn called his father’s guard. Wreck, Beat, and Chop joined him, and together they approached the human.

Young and bearded, the human looked bored. Unlike Learn, he was by himself.

“Surrender!” Learn called in Talk.

“I don’t think so,” the young human responded. Learn blinked. That was Talk… and it was perfect. The pronunciation, the inflection. The human spoke like one of Learn’s own.

“Listen. I don’t think either of us want to continue this battle. The dark will turn this into a massacre.”

Learn nodded.

“Your word isn’t enough,” the young orc answered. “Guarantee.”

The young man sighed. “Yes. That’s why I’m here. Take me as prisoner, until the morning. My masters know that you won’t be willing to send one of your own, but they will hold you by your word.”

“Fair trade.” Learn responded. He nodded to Wreck. The orc stepped up to the young man, and roughly pulled him off of his horse, then slapped the horse’s leg and sent it stampeding back at the humans.

“Wreck! That was good meat!” Learn chastised. Wreck just grinned, and with a swift motion tore into the human’s chest. The young man screamed, voice gurgling as blood welled up his throat. Learn looked toward the humans, who began to charge down their hill. He looked toward Wreck, who just dropped the human in the dusty sand.

“Again…” the human whimpered.

Learn looked back, toward Conquer. Wreck wouldn’t have done this without orders, the orc wasn’t bright. His father stood, imperious, as the orcs shaped up for battle, shields rising. His eyes met Learn’s, despite the dark, and Learn felt shame.

Why let them make the first mistake. Why, when you can simply force them to?

The man continued cleaning the bar as Learn approached and sat on one of the patchwork barstools. Again, Learn was struck by just how bland the man’s face was. He already had trouble telling humans apart, and Learn didn’t think he would be capable of identifying this man again, should the need arise. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, by which to identify him.

“Could I get—” Learn started, and the man put a cup in front of him, steam rising steadily from the top. Learn sniffed at the drink, but he didn’t recognize the scent.

“Already had this prepared?” He asked. The man looked at him, one eyebrow rising.

“You learn to read people, doing this job. Here, have a sip, try it.” The man’s voice was just as his appearance, bland and monotone. Learn shrugged and pulled the porcelain cup toward him.

He took a sip, and nearly reeled backward off of his seat. The drink tasted of childhood memories, of fond laughter and shared, whispered secrets. Scorch’s face whispered across the surface of his consciousness. A goofy grin spread across his face, and he drank deeply of the cup, savoring every warm sip. All too soon, it was gone, and he looked up at the bartender, disappointed. The bartender grinned in response.

“So what brings you here, my gray friend?” He asked, pulling back Learn’s mug and replacing it with a fresh one, full of the same liquid.

“Learn. Came for that one,” Learn responded, motioning at Best. The elf was seated at a table with the man in the hood, who was writing on a long roll of parchment. Best was grinning, plucking at his instrument and speaking, though Learn couldn’t make out the specifics of what the elf was saying.

“This place,” Learn continued, “not on a map?” The bartender shook his head.

“Nope. It exists in what I’ve been told is a ‘pocket dimension.’ It can be reached from reality, if you know how, but otherwise it’s impenetrable.”

Learn grunted. “You use this as a tavern? Have the most impenetrable location imaginable, and you serve drinks?”

The bartender put down his mug and casually flipped the rag he was holding over his shoulder.

“My command is Host, not Defend. It was Host before I got here, and it will be Host after I am gone.” Learn opened his mouth to interrupt, but the man kept speaking. “Where Ends Meet is not a place for your petty outside squabbles. This is a neutral zone, not a battlefield for you to defile with blood and bile.”

Learn put up a hand in acquiescence.

“Only commenting. Not the first Host?” He asked.

The bartender sighed, and walked around the bar, lifting a wooden plank to let himself out. He sat on one of the stools next to Learn.

“I went by Ben, once. I can hardly remember those days. Host… passes itself on. I took it from an orc. She took it from an elf. When I find someone… I’ll know that my days here are done. Host will pass itself on, and I will be Ben again.”

The concept wasn’t unfamiliar to Learn. Shrike was ostensibly run by the Command Rule, though the mundane everyday tasks were left to the Council of Guild Masters. Learn had heard that Rule was passed down to whomever had the Command Inherit.

The system seemed unstable to Learn, but he assumed that’s why whomever held Rule’s powers were so limited. Orcs were used to dramatic power shifts, their society was built to function when each clan was led by the strongest figure. Shrike was… well, complex. Everything seemed connected, everything had dozens of pieces. A single shift could send the city careening into chaos.

“Hm.” Learn grunted. He went to take another sip of his drink — damn, he had finished it again.

A hand was placed on Learn’s shoulder, and he flinched, twisting toward it and bopping the hand away with the back of his arm. It was Best. Learn relaxed a fraction, and the elf pulled back his hand, rubbing it with a bemused expression.

The bartender went back behind the bar, and within a few miraculous moments, had two more mugs prepared. Best sat and took a deep swig.

“Ah, delicious as always, Host. Learn, I trust you’ve been getting what you came here for?”

“No. Been ignoring me to talk to that old man,” Learn accused. “Who is he?”

“Oh, him.” The elf turned and shouted toward the hooded man. “Hey, Paalb, get over here!” Best turned to Learn again. “Learn, this is Paalb Nushir. He’s been teaching me how to tell stories.”

The old man nodded to Learn, seating himself without looking up from the parchment, quill scratching as he moved. Learn looked underneath the cowl — the dim light let him see the man’s face from here.

Paalb was old. No, not old; he was ancient. Learn was astounded that the man had the strength to even write, let alone walk across the tavern. His face was etched with lines, deep and cutting. Eyes sunken deep in his skull, spots of darkness pocking the surface of the face. The man looked dead.

“Paalb knows stories, darling. His life mission is to put them to ink.”

Learn nodded, then closed his eyes, putting out feelers of the sense that his Command lent him. He was struck by the intensity of the two presences he felt near him.

Host… Ben; gave off a sensation of a flat plane, extending beneath them in every direction for as far as Learn could sense. However, rather than feeling indifferent, he felt a sense of companionship, of amicability, coming from that implacable plane.

Paalb was harder to place, but no less overwhelming. For a split second, Learn nearly felt himself pulled away by the tide he felt stemming from the man. It drew him in, enveloped him, and nearly dragged him along its current, threatening to reduce him down. It would take everything that was, everything that existed, and somehow contain it within itself.

He surfaced, panting. What was that? He looked, the old man was still writing, scratching on his parchment.

“Paalb, your Command?” He asked. The old man didn’t respond until Best tapped him on the shoulder.

“Wha… oh. Uh, what? Did you ask something?”

Best looked at Learn, a defeated expression on his face.

“Your Command, Paalb. What is it?” the elf wheedled.

“Oh. Er, Chronicle.” The old man said, a confused expression on his face. His hand twitched, then he continued writing.

“He okay?” Learn asked.

“Well, sort of. He think’s he’s fine,” answered Best. “But he’s so entwined with his Command that it’s difficult for him to think of anything else. Look at what he’s been writing, darling.”

Learn bent down, peeking at the roll of parchment.

“…sat there for some time, coming to himself after a period measuring under one minute. The orc looked confused, and questioned the nature of my Command. Being busy with my note-taking, I failed to respond, until the loud elf asked me my Command…”

Paalb was writing notes on the conversation that was happening around him, transcribing nearly as quickly as the events themselves were taking place. Astounding, truly.

“I haven’t gotten a specific answer yet, but from what I can tell, Paalb is hundreds of years old.”

“More,” Host interrupted. “The first record any Host has of Paalb is well over a thousand years passed.”

“Records?” Learn asked, intrigued.

“Yessir. Each Host has kept a diary of our time at Where Ends Meet. Track of the day-to-day, interesting folk who’ve come in. Got ‘em going back for mmm… a few thousand years, though I can’t read ‘em that old.”

“You have a library?” Learn nearly shouted, standing from his stool. A trove of knowledge, histories for thousands of years. That kind of knowledge was priceless, and Learn would be willing to do nearly anything to get his hands on it. How was Paalb that old? Had the frail man discovered immortality?

“Eh, no. Just some diaries. And before you ask, no. They’re not mine for sharing. Intimate, personal stuff, an’ all that.” Host shrugged.

Learn nearly responded with the first thought on the tip of his tongue, but he held himself back. If he got in Host’s good graces, he could eventually convince the man to let him read the diaries. He just needed to be patient.

Besides, he had another thousand-years old repository of knowledge, seated right across from him. Paalb might have advice to offer, tactical or otherwise.

“Paalb. Need advice.” Learn said. He waited for the man to stop scratching at the piece of paper, then repeated. “You know history?”

Paalb looked confused, for a second. His eyes flickered toward his paper, then slowly focused together on Learn.

“Er, yes. What would you like to know?” The man’s fingers tensed, and he gripped his hands together, twitching, as if he had to force his hands to stay still.

“Orcs have been united, under a strong leader. Ever happened before? What stopped them?”

The old man’s hands slowed, one moving to his chin, stroking it pensively. He looked toward Best. The elf sighed, and pulled out his instrument.

“The old man just loves his dramatic storytelling,” Best whispered conspiratorially. He plucked a few strings, and then set about providing a slow, deep beat, strumming only occasionally. It provided an ambiance, a sense of suspense.

“Many years ago, there lived a human of great curiosity,” Paalb began. The weakness in his voice was gone, and he swayed slightly as he recounted his tale, eyes shut in concentration. “The Ascended, the god of the humans, was but a child back then. Having recently come into power he was unfamiliar with, he set about testing them.

“The Ascended appreciated how the human’s curiosity would grow, and bestowed upon him the Command ‘Discover.’ Thinking it a boon, The Ascended thought that the human would learn all there was to know! The nascent godling set about to other tasks, thinking his duty finished.

“Discover made good work of his Command, at first. He travelled from city to city, village to village, learning all that there was to know. He finally felt his life’s purpose, fulfilled.”

Learn squirmed internally. Paalb could be describing him, for all he knew. Best switched tune, fingers moving faster, frenetic pace of the song building up.

“Discover started to learn the things that were forbidden. A great compromiser, he began to bring the people he had learned from under his banner, uniting them toward one cause. Discover believed that no knowledge should be forbidden, no learning should be withheld. Under his banner, all five races began an era of peace, and prosperity, and knowledge.

“Time passed, and The Ascended looked upon his work. The other gods looked at Discover with jealousy, for at once he had managed what they could not; he had united the peoples of Ryria. Angry, they forced The Ascended to fix what he had wrought, and send down judgment upon Discover.

“The Ascended was sad, for he believed Discover to be correct, but he accepted. He did not want to lose his throne in the heavens, and so he sent down his judgment on Discover, incinerating the peace that he had created on Ryria.”

With a deep breath, Paalb finished his story, accompanied by a flourish from Best’s instrument. The old man looked around, confused, and his hands went for his parchment again, the moment of lucidity spent and gone.

“That’s it?” Learn asked. He looked to Best, to Host, for some exposition. “A god could defeat orcs united?”

“Darling, stories are nice, but you can’t look to them for answers to everything. Different myths end different ways. Some say a villain rose and defeated Discover, others say that Discover fell himself.” Best stood, and began packaging his instrument away again. “You merely said something that sounded like a story he knew. Word recognition, and all that.”

The elf came up to Learn, and patted him on both shoulders.

“He’s old, focused only on his stories. That’s why I keep on visiting him. With him, it’s either the writing or the performance, and I love the performance. You managed to pull one out of him like I haven’t seen in a while. I’m jealous, truly, I am.”

Learn stood, letting Best’s hands fall to the side. “Listen—”

“Now darling, I have to head out. Thank you for visiting with me, truly thank you.”

“Best. Leave Shrike.” Learn insisted. The elf’s face softened for a second, before hardening further, sharp granite in his expression.

“No, Learn. I know you’re nervous about these orcs, but I? I thrive in these situations. Asking me to leave is akin to asking me to stop breathing. The drama, darling, it would be overwhelming.” The elf began to stalk out, then paused halfway out the door.

“I’ll stay safe, Learn. But you don’t get to tell me what to do. You can rely on my help, should you need it. I will be here, Where Ends Meet, often. Simply call, and Host will let you in.” The door slammed behind Best.

Learn looked at the other denizens of the Tavern. Paalb was encompassed in his writing, Host was back to cleaning a cup out. Two creatures of habit, with Commands so overwhelming that they wiped out their individuality, their reason. Their free will.

Learn could see, quite clearly, a path where he followed Discover. Delve into his Command, let it overtake him. Gods, it would be so easy to stop worrying about morals, and ethics, and saving everybody.

The temptation was there, to lose himself in his scholarship. Gods, it was there, and it was strong. But he forced himself to remember his goals. He couldn’t free his people if he were forever stuck in a musty library. Hell, he couldn’t be there for his newly-developing friendships.

He would avoid the temptation. Learn would stay his hand. If he focused on his short term goals, he could ignore that ever-present freedom.

He had too much to do.