Alvin didn’t meet the other child’s eyes, ignoring the half-formed, childish words that were aimed at him. Instead, he focused on the tower of blocks he was constructing: it was nearly taller than he was, and had every color in it! He stepped back and appraised it thoughtfully, then reached for another block, a yellow one this time. Yeah, yellow was the right one—fit right between those blue and red blocks. Carefully, he stretched onto his tiptoes and placed it on the very top of the tower, ignoring the voice behind him that was getting louder and louder. None of the other children had anything worth hearing, because they weren’t as important as he was, he thought. He didn’t say it, because he didn’t like talking. But the noise was distracting. Finally, Alvin turned toward the shouter. It was one of the other kids, he couldn’t remember his name. The child pushed him, hard, into the tower. It all came crashing down on top of him. Alvin tried to cover his head with his arms, but the blocks tumbled and he couldn’t protect himself from all of them. One block hit on its corner, and almost hit him in the eye! From the pain, from the destruction of his art, from sheer anger, Alvin’s lip wobbled, and he began to cry.

Alvin let out a breath when it became obvious that they weren’t going into another one of the tenements. He didn’t like standing out, and he didn’t think that there was any way to stand out more than being a dwarf in the orcish part of town, not to mention how much smaller he was. He was used to being the shortest one in the room whenever he left the Enclave, but never as short as he felt walking through the pounded-dirt roads in the orcish sector of town. The area was around as big as the dwarven enclave, but made up of flat, squat rooms, stacked on top of each other without any wasted space in between. Thin, precipice-like stairways were the only way to get up to the higher levels, and it was a wonder that nobody had hurt themselves falling yet.

The downside, he thought, to meeting someone outside of this sector was that it would be quite a walk. The decision to put it at the very edge of the city, pushed up against the interior of the walls, had actually been voted into effect by the entire Council without any dissenters; though for wildly different reasons each. K’fir and Asch wanted the orcs to live as far as possible from themselves; Dietrich and Learn both agreed that too-quick of an integration attempt would see violence break out on both sides. Jotep and Lysselia were harder to read, but they had both agreed after seeing the rest of the vote.

Unfortunately, it was near-impossible to tamp down any violence that would happen, and the occasional fight still broke out, but Alvin had heard Learn say that the fact that nobody had died showed the success of the integration by itself. Which, Alvin had argued, was a poor standard of success, if it came down to ‘lack of deaths.’

And now Learn, well-read, genius, Learn was leaving Alvin alone to fend for the orcs.

The dwarf’s fingers went to the medallion around his neck. The surface was warm from contact with his skin, the etches marring the otherwise smooth surface as he rubbed it. It was a symbol of the authority that he did not want, it was responsibility that hung around his neck like a noose, just waiting for him to make a mistake so it could strangle the life out of him.

Their destination was one of the cheaper restaurants near the Crossing. Alvin followed Learn into the crowded restaurant and was nearly blinded by the smoke that wafted freely. There was a table, he saw, set thankfully near an open window, and Alvin took a blessed breath, relishing in the chill from the outdoors. It didn’t escape his view that, as he and Learn sat, the other inhabitants of the smoky room began to slowly drift away from their table, opting to go to the bar, or to simply stand further away.

“So…,” Alvin led off once his lungs recalled how to work properly.

“Waiting for Mangle.” Learn answered. The orc pulled out a book from one of his cavernous pockets and set it onto the warped wooden table. Alvin sighed.

“Do you have to read now?” he asked plaintively. Learn looked up, moderate surprise etched onto his face. He slowly closed the book but kept his hand in between the pages.

“No. Sorry.”

“So, uh. Who’s Mangle?” Alvin asked.

“One of the smaller leaders. Helped organize when my people moved into the tenements. Made sure all got what they needed.” Alvin couldn’t help but notice the pride that went through Learn’s voice when he mentioned his people. Such a difference from the way he held himself when the two had met. Once an outcast, now the leader of a burgeoning nation-state.

“She uh… is she nice?”

Learn shook his head. Alvin’s pulse raced, and he twined his fingers tightly together.

“Not nice,” Learn continued. “Good at what she does. Smart.”

“And what will I have to do?”

“Listen to her. Work with her. She is not as good at communicating. She speaks for the orcs, you speak for her. Speaking of…” the orc trailed off as he stood, looking toward the entrance of the restaurant.

The orc who came in seemed to eclipse even Conquer, who had been the largest orc Alvin had ever seen. Bedecked in furs and leathers, she barely fit through the door. She came toward Learn, and the two each gripped the other’s neck and brought their foreheads together for a quick touch, though the motion seemed tense.

“Alvin, Mangle.”

Mangle looked appraisingly at Alvin, then shot off a lightning-quick sentence at Learn in orcish. Alvin’s heart dropped further; he had asked Learn to teach him the language, but Learn told him that it wasn’t important—now he had no idea what was going on.

“Don’t judge until you’ve spoken with him.” Learn answered, in the trader’s tongue. Mangle scoffed, then sat down where Learn had been just moments ago. Once closer, she looked Alvin up and down, squinting with disapproval.

“Hi,” Alvin pushed through. He put out his hand, prepared for her to either shake it or to grab her neck, but Mangle just sat back in the too-small chair. Alvin withdrew his hand slowly.

“So,” He tried to force a conversation, “We’re going to be working together. I’m… I’m looking forward to it.”

The orc woman still looked at him, remaining silent.

“Can you—can you tell me what I can do to help?”

“We don’t need your help.” Mangle said. Her voice surprised Alvin—Learn always talked differently, finding certain parts of speech unnecessary to getting his point across. Mangle had that same rough accent, but her grammar was far better than his friend’s.

Learn stepped up behind the orc and put a hand on her shoulder. Mangle immediately flinched hard to try to shake it off, but Learn pressed down harder.

“Can find someone else.” Learn said bluntly. Mangle growled and pulled his hand off of her shoulder.

“Ask your questions, dwarf.” She said, her voice a resigned sigh.

Alvin blinked. Learn looked expectantly at him. Mangle huffed.

“I guess—sorry, can I ask? Do you two even like each other?”

Mangle raised an eyebrow. She shook her head.

“No.” she said. “I respect the clan leader as I must. But I don’t like him.” Alvin felt shocked, though the sentiment didn’t surprise him. Orcs interacted in a way that just plain didn’t make sense to him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it, opened it again, then decided to change the topic. Where the hell was he supposed to go after that?

“What can I do to help?” he asked. He felt good about that question. It put the onus on him, rather than on the prickly orc across from him. He coughed and leaned toward the open window in an attempt to get some more fresh air.

Mangle frowned, and her brow furrowed in thought.

“We need to be included. Jobs, living areas, opportunities. We don’t have enough of any.”

“Okay,” Alvin said. “That makes sense.”

“We need another orc on the Ruling Council, too. Not a dwarf.”

Alvin didn’t know how to take that. On one hand, he didn’t want to be on the Council any more than Mangle did, but it was clear that she wouldn’t have a positive impact.

“I hope that happens soon, too,” he answered. “I don’t think I’m the right person for this job, but… I guess I’m the one we have, for now.”

Mangle shrugged, and Alvin thought the movement was a little bit less dismissive than she had been before.

“You can talk for us. For now.” She stood and gave a curt nod to Alvin, then one to Learn, and stepped out of the room. She spat onto the tiles as she pulled open the door and walked through it, as though the meeting had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Alvin waited until Learn sat back down before cocking an eyebrow at him.

“So… why her?” he asked. “She doesn’t like you, doesn’t seem to respect you. Why is she the one I have to deal with?”

“Don’t have to like someone to respect them,” Learn answered. “Mangle is smart. Knows what we need, is willing to do what it takes to get it.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure a lot of orcs do! What about Wreck? He was the first one to stand up to Conquer. Aside from you, I mean,” he added as an afterthought.

“Wreck has no thoughts of his own. Helps me, helped Conquer,” the orc’s breath caught for an almost imperceptible second, “but doesn’t like to think. Does what he is told. Mangle, she’s clever. Has her family in Shrike. She wants nothing more than the best for them—and it’s the best for everyone.”

“Am I not careful enough for you, Learn?” Alvin asked. “It seems to me like you chose her because she’ll hesitate in case she makes a mistake.”

“No.” Learn shook his head. “Will grasp onto any opportunity. Will seize every chance. Will argue, fight, contest you. Two sides of a coin, you and her.”

Alvin didn’t think that his stomach would have been able to drop any further, and yet… It sounded to him like Mangle was a roadblock that Learn was putting in his way, rather than a partner to help him grow, and that thought frustrated him. Sure, Learn was way smarter than he could ever hope to be, but that didn’t mean that he was a tool, meant to be manipulated. With a breath, Alvin pushed his anger down, deep enough inside that he could no longer feel it. He didn’t want to be angry at Learn, not when the big guy was leaving.

“So… want to get a drink? You know, before you’re gone?” Alvin asked.

Learn began to motion to a waiter, who either didn’t notice the orc or ignored him.

“No, not here,” Alvin corrected. “Where Ends Meet. The good drink, one last time.” Learn’s face turned up in a smile, tight around the cheeks. Together, the odd pair stood and left the restaurant.