It was cold. The sun couldn’t penetrate the broad, leafy canopies above, and Learn missed the sensation of light radiating on his skin. The simple leather skirt cinched around his waist was not enough here, this far out from home.

Nobody had come after him. The revelation was at once a relief and saddening. He had avoided the main roads, staying out of sight, sleeping during the day and traveling at night to avoid being found by the Biter Clan. He was well and truly alone out here. He could travel during the day, now, when it would be slightly warmer. There hadn’t been any caravans, either, much to Learn’s surprise.

He hoped to come across a settlement soon — Learn was capable of hunting, but there was very little wildlife at this time of year — they had all burrowed or flocked away in preparation for the deep chill that was swiftly approaching. His stomach pained him, broad, shooting strokes of discomfort. He was starving.

He decided to stop for the night. No fire, for him. If any brigands came across a sleeping, half-naked orc, there was no way they would let him live. He folded up upon himself, and shivered his way into unconsciousness.

Learn’s jaw was still viciously sore, though Alvin’s medallion had healed the open wounds. The dwarf had warned Learn to avoid eating anything too hard for a few days until the holes closed up. Learn, unable to speak at the time, had simply nodded his head in thanks.

The caravan was just outside the walls that separated The Crossing from the rest of Shrike. Learn rubbed his jaw, partially in thought and partially from the remaining pain. He still wasn’t used to the lack of tusks — it felt like his mouth was full of air and cotton, and there was the most uncomfortable squishing feeling whenever he bit down on food.

The walls around the center city were enormous, larger than Learn could have believed. He was used to the Red Desert, where material was hard to come by and stone was always ground to sand by the harsh weather. Most orcs lived in tents, made to be put up and taken down swiftly. There was always the risk of an attack by one of the other clans, being able to move around at will meant that they were safer.

But this wall was engineering like nothing Learn had ever seen. It rose far above him. How could stone support itself to that height? Wouldn’t the weight bring it crashing down? The winds here were nothing like the Red Desert storms; they were paltry things. Despite that, they should have enough strength to bring down these walls, if they were simple stacked rocks. Something else was at work here. Learn would have to find someone who knew how they were built — gawking simply wouldn’t satisfy him.

And the gate — an opening as tall as three orcs, and wide enough for two wagons to enter side-by-side, yet with the same walls and crenellations above. Truly a masterwork.

“What’re you thinking about, big guy?” Learn was shaken out of his thoughts by Celeste. The short woman had her short hair loose and combed back, falling just to chin-level. She was wearing a set of clothing covered with thick leather platings, resembling light armor. It was reminiscent of plate mail, only of a different material. They had last spoken after that odd dream, when Celeste had come to him looking for answers. As he couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything other than moan at the time, she had needed to go without.

“Wall. It’s enormous.” Learn said.

Celeste nodded. “It’s Shrike’s main defense. If we’re attacked, those closest to The Crossing can get inside, while the people further out can flee to safety. Meanwhile, the Hawks man the top of the wall and rain havoc down. It’s a pretty good system.”

“Meant how it stands. Must be heavy.” Learn responded.

“Oh. I don’t know, something to do with the arches, I think.” Learn nodded, rubbing his jaw more. The soreness was distracting.

“Anyway, Learn. I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Dream?” Learn asked.

“Yeah. What the hell was that? Was it real?”

“Don’t know. Was going to ask you.”

The pair were silent, before Learn broached the question that had been in his mind since the dream had happened.

“Binding?” He asked.

“It’s nothing like I’ve experienced before, but it’s possible. I’ve never dealt with someone who was the plaything of two gods before, so maybe.” Learn filed that away — during the dream, it seemed as though Celeste had interacted with the gods before — why would she lie? It was something to think about.

“Either way,” Celeste continued, “we were both there. You don’t have your tusks anymore. Do you still have that sphere The Scholar gave you?”

The Scholar — Know.

“Ate it.” Learn answered.

“What!?”

Learn shrugged. “Was supposed to. Was a fruit.”

Celeste pinched the bridge of her nose. “A goddess gave you a magical object, and you ate it?”

“Yeah.”

“I — okay.” She sighed. “Did it do anything?”

Learn shrugged again. “Made my mouth hurt less.”

Celeste’s mouth opened as if she was going to say something, then she thought better and closed it again. Learn didn’t know what was so confusing. Know gave him a fruit, it was obvious that he should eat it. Annoying that he didn’t know what it would do yet, but he was sure he would learn in time.

“The binding. Worked?” Learn asked in an attempt to change the subject. He didn’t like feeling dumb, and this conversation was doing just that. Even though he knew he was supposed to eat the damn thing.

“Yeah,” Celeste answered. “Annoying that we couldn’t get the rest of the group, but I’m happy that at least you took me up on my offer. Always useful to know people in the big city.”

Learn nodded. “Hawks are near the Forum?”

“Yeah. They’re both in the northern sector of the Crossing. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it, should you need help.”

“I’ll have Alvin.”

“Oh.” Celeste looked surprised for a second, before she smothered her face with a neutral expression.

“Something wrong?” Learn asked. He knew that Celeste was trying quite hard to help him, but he hadn’t noticed just how invested she had been in that. He didn’t quite understand why. If she would just tell him what she was hiding, maybe he could figure out how to help her.

“No, no. I just… you’re staying with the dwarves?”

Learn grunted.

“Huh. Okay, that’s not what I thought you would do, I’m just thrown off a bit. I mean, how are you going to fit into their buildings? They’re all dwarf-height, and you’re… tall.”

“Here. Short, for an orc.”

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense. You’ll be near the merchant’s district, so you can get acquainted with the center of the Crossing. Yeah, pretty good place, all things considered.”

“Mmm.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?” she asked. “We could really use someone with your skills. You could learn strategy — I’m sure we have things that would work.”

“No.” Learn had told the human why he needed to go to the Forum. Why was she questioning it now?

The pair was silent for several passing moments. Learn thought that Celeste had wanted him to answer her questions differently, but he wasn’t going to lie. He had planned this with Alvin almost immediately after the fight — it had become clear that he didn’t want to join a mercenary group, then. Fighting just wasn’t enough for him. Facing off against that Tasked with all of the illusions, that had nearly been enough, that had that fulfilling feeling of a puzzle. He had had few pieces, but had managed to put something together. That wasn’t likely to happen often. No, he would have to dedicate his life to studying. He was excited to be able to. Few orcs had made it this far out of the Red Desert — he was going to be the first to do a lot of things, for his people.

Without another word, Celeste stalked forward, giving Learn a nod as she passed him. Learn felt uncomfortable, but what could he have done?

—

Alvin had promised to bring Learn’s case before the elders, but as soon as they entered the small building, guards split the two. Learn had let himself be shackled, and he was swiftly brought in front of three wrinkled old dwarves. The cuffs dug into his wrists, they had just barely closed over them. Humiliating and painful, but he could ignore the ignominy.

The three old dwarves sat before a fire, arranged in a loose semicircle facing Learn. The guards were right at Learn’s side, axes held carefully out to the side, not menacing, but prepared to use them should they need to. Learn didn’t know what to do, and the elders didn’t give him any instruction.

Were they trying to intimidate him? That was cute. He had faced down a god. Sure, it was in a dream, but it had felt real enough to Learn at the time — and it had lasting consequences to boot. Instead of asking why they were treating him like a common criminal, he plopped himself down cross-legged in front of them, and waited for an explanation. He expected more from the so-called “righteous enclave of dwarves.” They were treating him like a common criminal, they were — it clicked. They were treating him like how the Biters treated their prisoners. Like he was already guilty of something, simply for having the gall to exist on their territory. Disappointing, to find the same patterns he was trying to escape here.

Moments passed. Learn yawned. Finally, the leftmost elder dwarf, with the columns of rings woven into his braided moustache, spoke — in undertongue, the guttural dwarven language. Learn didn’t speak it. It sounded like a question.

“Speak Talk and the Common Tongue.” Learn said, first in Talk, then in Common when it became apparent that none of the dwarves had understood the orcish language.

The right elder, the one with the beard waxed so it pointed upward, answered him. His grasp of Common was weak, but understandable.

“What are you wanting? Why are you coming here?” He asked.

“Applying to Mage’s Forum. Need somewhere to live.”

The left and right dwarves burst into a flurry of discussion in undertongue, exchanging guttural, angry-sounding sentences rapidly, trying to talk over one another, interrupting nilly-willy. Learn waited patiently for them to stop. He had time enough for their petty squabbles.

“Why should we be trusting you?” The right one asked.

“Don’t know you, you don’t know me,” Learn answered. “Don’t have a good answer. Didn’t let me introduce myself.”

“You are being an orc.”

“Am having a name,” Learn spat back, mockingly. “Learn. Not like other orcs.”

“Learn?” The left dwarf scoffed. “Orcs are being violent. What are you proving that you are not doing the same?”

“Alvin.”

The right dwarf scoffed, leading to another intense bout of undertongue back-and-forth. The middle one finally raised a hand, and the two silenced themselves immediately.

“Alvin would speak for me. Traveled together. Where is he?” Learn asked.

The center dwarf waved to Learn’s guards. One, the shorter one — he had been the more aggressive of the two — sighed and went off. Moments later, he returned with Alvin in tow.

The young dwarf wasn’t shackled, but he looked uncomfortable. No, not uncomfortable, Learn noticed. Alvin was furious. As soon as the middle dwarf nodded to him, he began speaking rapidly, loudly, the undertongue sounding softer from his mouth than it did from the elderly dwarves, yet no less impactful.

He was stopped mid-sentence by the central dwarf, who locked eyes with him. Alvin quieted immediately. The old dwarf looked at Learn. His eyes were full to brimming with a strength, an intensity that the orc was intimately familiar with. His father had those same eyes — different race, different face, but that same intensity of will. This was a person who would let nothing stand in their way, a zealot.

This was a person to be careful around. The old dwarf spoke in a clipped, tired voice that didn’t carry the accent of the others.

“Learn, was it? Let me tell you a story.” He leaned forward.

“Way back when, before history began, before dwarf dug and goblin wandered. Before orc and elf and man, there were the animals who ruled Hame. These animals were capable of thought and reason and speech. Scorpion was one of these. With his glorious armor of blackened scale, and his brilliant sword, flashing like the sun, Scorpion fought and killed as he pleased. Battles were fought, and battles were won, and battles were lost.

Scorpion was stuck on an island, trapped away from his family. For six days and six nights, Scorpion waited, looking for a way back to the mainland. Finally, he saw Frog, who came bouncing out of the water. Frog was a peacemaker, the messenger of the lands and seas.

‘Frog!’ Shouted Scorpion, ‘will you give me passage on your back? I miss my family, and I wish to see them. I have been trapped on this island for six days and nights.’ Frog was kind, and scared, and he let Scorpion onto his back, and they swam across the endless ocean.

The pair finally saw the approaching land. They were almost home. Scorpion, without warning, pierced Frog with his mighty sword. As they sank, Frog asked; ‘You’ve killed us both! Why?’

‘It is my nature,’ Scorpion responded, and the waves overtook them.”

The dwarf sat back, looking smug.

“Dietrich, we’ve all been told that tale when we were younglings!” Alvin responded. “Let me tell you a different version.”

Learn had never seen the young dwarf so intense as he was now. His conviction, his mettle, were both proof that honor and glory existed outside of battle. He gave a silent word of thanks to the young dwarf. This was a different form of bravery than what he was used to.

“Scorpion and Frog travel across the endless seas. Frog knew Scorpion was a warrior, and was frightened of what he could to. They made it across the endless seas, and Scorpion disembarked. Frog, surprised, asked Scorpion ‘You are Scorpion. You fight. Why did you not sting me?’

Scorpion, facing Frog, responded; ‘I am Scorpion, and Scorpions sting. I cannot control my nature, but I can control my actions.’ And the two parted.”

“Sirs, Learn cannot control how he was born. We cannot control how we were born. But I have traveled with him, and I have fought beside him.” Well… “I saw him defend innocent travelers, when he did not need to, out of the goodness of his heart. I spoke with him at length, accompanied him. He strives for more. I vouch for Learn, the orc. On my honor, and the honor of my fathers, and the honor of my fathers’ fathers. Give him a place to sleep, give him access to your books and histories and knowledges. Give him shelter and food and he will repay you. Accept him, and you will have a stake in his future accomplishments.”

Breathing heavily, the young dwarf stepped back, and Learn saw him ensconce within himself, folding up into his normal anxious posture. He was nearly shaken — though he would never show weakness in front of an enemy combatant — and that was what these Elders were. This was a battlefield of the minds, of ideas. It was invigorating. He wished that he was practiced enough to be a contender. He committed himself to learn that capacity.

“Not asking for much.” He said, “Room. Food. Books. Just until I apply to the Forum.”

“Very well,” Dietrich said, hushing the dwarves on his sides when they burst into sound. “Leib, Gunther, silence. I am the appointed head of this Enclave, it is my decision. Learn, you have room and board. You will be accompanied by a guard while you are here. Alvin,” he said to the young dwarf, “if you are wrong, you will no longer be welcome in Shrike. Every dwarf in the city will know that the soil of your family is rotten. This is your risk, not mine.” Alvin nodded, hands shaking.

“Learn the Orc. In exchange for this room and board, you will answer three questions to the best of your ability. Are these terms acceptable?”

As the old dwarf spoke, Learn felt the spark of something ping in the backside of his mind, a sense that something was happening. If he focused on it, perhaps he could define the feeling with more clarity, but as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

“Yes.” A sensation, something he couldn’t quite place.

“Very well.” Dietrich stood from his chair, and held out his hand. Learn took it in his, noticing that while the dwarf’s skin was papery and wrinkled, his grip was firm, intense. Perhaps he wasn’t as old as he looked.

“Prove to me, Learn. Prove that your soil is healthy.”