Sitting on his horse, Sir Daniel looked at the crudely drawn map resting on top of the front pommel of the saddle, confused.

He glanced away from it, towards the battered, sunburnt highlands, trying to find some kind of reference point in between the jagged rocks and thorny brambles that stood all around them.  The orcish territories were certainly not the best place to get lost. They were yet to encounter a marauding party, but the risk was always there, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“So, Milord, have you got any clue on where we shall proceed?” asked Sir Gregory, raising an eyebrow, an unamused expression on his wrinkled face. Daniel was still not completely on board with having the older knight with them. He knew that his mother had insisted on making Sir Gregory part of the retinue, but he didn’t need a babysitter. Still, he appreciated the veteran, he remembered his training with him somewhat fondly, and he knew that the respect that the nobles had for him would help keep the other knights in check, something that Daniel struggled to do.

“I don’t know….According to the reports, that…” he said, pointing at the path that snaked around the rocky cliffs “…should be the fastest way out of the highlands and to the Estilvarian border.”

He cursed silently. Having a real guide would make crossing this wasteland so much easier, but whomever they tried to approach in the half-orcish town at the foot of these hills had fled in terror at the sight of their heraldry. Yet again, he thought, his father’s actions put a stick on his wheels.  As if being pulled out of the Academy wasn’t enough.

The only townsfolk that they managed to recruit, the one who had given them the map he was holding, was little more than a child, and he seriously doubted now that he knew these lands as well as he had initially claimed.

As he tried to make some sense of the drawings on the parchment, he noticed at the corner a small, greenish figure, that was slowly approaching him and Sir Gregory.

Well, speak of the devil.

“Ehhhm…so-sorry to bother you, Milord,” Said Mizar, a concerned expression in his brown eyes.

Sir Daniel raised his nose from the map and looked down at the half-orc teen.

“Don’t worry Mizar.” He sighed “What is it?”

“Are we sure we want to cross those cliffs there? ” he said, pointing at the ridge they were facing, stroking his left arm with his right hand, his eyes darting around.

“Are you scared?” asked Daniel.

“Of course not!” answered the teen, more to convince himself than anything, “It’s just that I never ventured this far into the Greying Highlands, and I-I have a bad feeling about this.”

“We are following the map you and your friend drew for us. You said you knew this area pretty well…” he added, leaning on his side, staring.

“Right, of course” stated Mizar, “and I do…it’s just that…I don’t understand why we are going so deep inside orcish territory. It could be dangerous.”

“It’s a long story.” sighed the noble.

“Well, we have time until you figure out if we are going on the right way,” said Sir Andrew, who had made his way towards the trio in the meantime. The black-haired knight dismounted from his horse, moving towards their teenage guide, who, as was often the case for half-orcs, was already nearing his height, despite being thirteen at max.

“You see” reprised the knight, putting an arm on the kid’s shoulder “We are not interested in their territory, more than getting beyond that, towards the border with Estilvar. There, our quest awaits.”

“What quest?”

“To save a princess from a terrible curse.” Answered Sir Andrew, seeing the eyes of Mizar widening. “Do you know the story of Princess Lysanne?”

The young orc shook his head.

“She was a beautiful princess, the daughter of the king and queen of the Kingdom of Estilvar, but at the age of eight, she had fallen to a terrible curse, that nobody could dispel. Only the kiss of an intrepid, pure-of-heart knight could save their daughter. Desperate, the monarch sent his daughter away, to the most remote region of their domain, surrounded by high mountains.”
 

“I remember it now,” said the orc “I heard the story once from a bard in the tavern, he said that she is locked inside the tower of an ancient castle, guarded by the biggest dragon that ever lived. I always thought it was a fairytale, the bunch of crap that storytellers go around telling for coin.”

“I thought the same” commented Sir Daniel, eyeing the boy “until I came across a strange book, a diary of sorts, that told that exact story. Also, whoever wrote it had apparently taken part in an expedition in those lands, battling against the fierce inhabitants of that area, trolls, giants, and griffins, before his hunting party reached the castle, where they were scattered by the huge red dragon that lived inside. So, there is some truth to that fairytale.”

“Also” added Sir Gregory “there have been some sightings of a gigantic red dragon, that seem to match the description, in this area.”

As the older knight ended his sentence,  they all saw the half-orc becoming pale as a ghost, gulping audibly.

“S-so…it’s all true?” he asked, his voice trembling “ ...the curse, the princess, the…” he stopped for a moment “The dragon?  And you want to go kill it and rescue the princess?”

“That’s the plan” answered Sir Andrew, smiling and winking at Sir Daniel.

He smiled back. Sometimes he wished to have the natural charm and the way with people that his friend had.

As he calmed down a little, Mizar felt a heavy pat on his shoulder, that almost made him fall off his feet “So what they say about half-orcs isn’t true. You are smarter than you look!” Sir Bernard continued, remarking on his statement by hitting the boy with a light punch on the pectorals, “Don’t worry, kid, those knights Sir Daniel mentioned were certainly scrub, mercenaries, and other riffraff. That dragon wouldn’t last a minute in single combat with the best knight of Atheran” he added, hitting his breastplate with his fist.

“Sure” added Sir Daniel, rolling his eyes. “To be honest, at the moment we are just looking for information. That’s why we are here, the dragon has been sighted in orc territory, they must know something. Also, we have enlisted the help of the best monster hunter in the kingdom.”

“You are too kind, Milord,”  said a rider in the back, his horse slowly coming towards them, revealing the figure of an older man. “But correct, that is our objective. Preparing is half of the battle, especially for creatures as vicious and dangerous as those.” added Sir Roger, adjusting his long, greying hair.

“Okay, that makes sense,” said the half-orc guide “Why there are so few of you though? Wouldn’t make sense to travel with some more soldiers?”

“Well, a smaller party moves faster” answered Sir Daniel. “When we will get to Estilvar, we will enlist the help of some mercenaries.”

Truth be told, he didn’t want to enrage the orcs by marching an army right inside their territory. He was sure that many tribes remembered what had happened in the aftermath of Vogrok’s invasion. With a small group, he could at least try the diplomatic approach, hoping that it would go better than it did before.

“Anyways kiddo, can you help me make sense of whatever is drawn here?”

As they consulted the map, they heard a low, guttural sound coming from their left, immediately followed by other, similar sounds, coming from all over them, sounds that he recognized as warcries. As he instinctively went to grab his sword, Daniel saw large, green figures emerging from the nearby bushes and boulders, dressed in animal hide and leather, with spears, axes, and maces in their arms. Orcs. They had taken advantage of the knight’s little chat to snuck up on them.

He glanced around, as his companions readied themselves for the battle. There were at least two dozen of them, probably more, and they were slowly surrounding them. They weren’t charging yet, but the way they were wielding those crude weapons left few doubts about their intentions.

He glared at Sir Geralt for failing to keep watch, making sure that the orcs would see him  lowering his blade, before shouting to the assailants, his hands in the air “Please, we are not looking for a fight.”

Sadly, it had little effect, and he watched horrified as a javelin darted towards them, hitting Mizar squarely in the thigh, making him fall on his knees as the orcs started charging towards them. He stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, as Sir Gregory rode in the front, addressing the other knights “Brace yourselves, men. Do not let their number intimidate you!”

Daniel sighed, muttering a couple of arcane words as the gem at the center of his left gauntlet started glowing a yellowish light. Looks like diplomacy was off the table.

As the mass of men barreled towards them, rolling down the ridges and cliffs like boulders, arrows starting to fly towards the cavaliers, he heard a deep voice shouting in a language that he recognized as orcish. He couldn’t speak it, but he could still gather what It was from the harshness of the tone. As they heard the order,  the orc warriors stopped in their tracks, lowering their weapons, their eyes fixated on the knights.

From the back of the green skins’ line emerged a figure.
A towering mass of a man, standing around 7 feet and a half tall, and as wide as Daniel’s wardrobe back home.  As he came into view, the young noble started to see his features: Almost completely bald, with a long, bushy black beard dressed in a single braid;  piercing brown eyes above a small, triangular nose. A thick scar crossed his square jaw from the base of the neck up to his lower lip, from which two large, pointy tusks protruded.  

He calmed down; He knew that face, even if he was a little worse for wear than the last time he had seen him.

The young noble watched as Kendar moved forward, effortlessly pushing the other, significantly shorter orcs, aside, stopping a little way beside his steed.

“My explorer had told me that a small group of knights from Antheran were making their way upon these lands.” said the chief hunter, loudly. “We rode here expecting the usual idiots in search of a scrap and loot, but I’m glad to see that we were wrong” he added, the hard expression on his face softening slightly.

Daniel smiled back at him, dismounting and approaching the towering orc.

“Glad to see you again Daniel, after all these months.” Said Kendar, adjusting his wolf pelt over his shoulders as he extended a thick, muscular forearm to the much shorter knight.

 “The pleasure is reciprocal, old friend” answered Daniel, grabbing the tree-trunk-sized arm, giving it a firm squeeze, barely able to hold a pained yelp as the orc leader reciprocated his gesture. “I see that you have kept my gift” he added, gesturing to the sapphire, once part of a ring, set at the base of a large direwolf tooth.

The orc smiled, glancing down at his chest. “What brings you and your companions to challenge the Greying Highlands?”

“Well,” said Daniel, knowing that Kendar wasn’t one to beat around the bush “Long story short, we were hoping that some of the tribes would be able to help us. We are looking for a beast.” A very large beast.

“What kind of beast, if I may ask?”

“A large, red dragon, that has been seen flying above these highlands repeatedly” intervened Sir Roger.

At the mention of the creature, Daniel started to hear a number of gasps and mumbling coming from the crowd of orcs, as Kendar lowered his head.

“I haven’t seen it, but we have heard of this as well, some of the other tribes report to have seen a similar beast flying above their villages. Come, Nadrak will be able to tell you more, and we will give you a place to stay for the night.”

After almost an hour of walking beside rocky hills and harsh cliffsides, they reached a large stone plinth, on which several houses, made of wood and animal hide, sit.  As they entered the orc village, they were met with a low murmur and distrustful glances from the number of tribesmen that had come to greet Kendar’s war party.

They approached the central square of the village, where Nadrak, the tribe elder, was waiting for them. As Kendar introduced him to the older orc, he greeted Daniel friendly, inviting him inside his tent. This display of hospitality was enough to make the other orcs warm up to them a little, and a few orcish women emerged from their tents carrying water and mead, an offer that the exhausted knights accepted eagerly.

As they sat down for dinner, Nadrak started to tell them what they had heard:

Apparently, three to four months back, some of the tribes  southwest of there had been attacked by a red dragon, a beast that they described as “more than hundred feet long” and “with claws able to slice a man in half with a single strike.”

They had tried to protect their boars and wolves from its assault, but whoever did, ended up in the dragon’s gullet or burned to a crisp, before retreating to the south with his catch, to return after some weeks. They had rapidly learned that during these periodical raids, it was better to leave the monster alone, and hope that boars and wild goats would be enough to satisfy its hunger.

“It hasn’t come to these lands in half a moon” continued the elder “but the last time it did, other villages, closer to ours, saw his red shape in the distance. We fear that it’s only a matter of months before it makes its way to our tribe”

“Hmmm,” said Sir Roger “It seems that its hunting territory is getting larger…this could only mean one thing…This dragon, huge as it is, is still growing.”

 The whole table gasped at the realization.

“Well, one more reason to get rid of this forsaken demon!” said Sir Bernard, before biting a chunk of meat off a boar rib.

“We know your value, Sir Daniel, and we appreciate your commitment” commented the orc elder “But this is not a beast like the others.”

“No, it's not” convened Kendar, its eyes low “We will happily help you move around these hills, but can I ask you something?”

The young noble glanced at him.
“Why are you so keen on killing this beast, Daniel?”

He clenched his fist at the question.

“It’s a long story, a story for another day, my friend. Let’s just say it’s something I have to do.” He answered. He saw his orc friend nodding in acknowledgment, without asking any more questions.

They spent the next hour planning their next route, getting the lay of the land from the tribe hunters, and beginning to carry the water and meat that the orcs gave them onto their horses, to speed up the next day preparations.

The next morning, the small group of knights woke up early, saddling and checking their horses to make sure that they were ready for the long journey ahead, as they saw Kendar approaching them, a young orcish girl at his side.

“I wish for your blade to always strike true.” said the chief hunter, smiling at Daniel “and I hope to see you again, friend.”

“I hope the same.”

“ Do you remember my younger sister, Zevna?” asked Kendar, gesturing towards the girl who was accompanying him.  “She is a great hunter and a tracker, and she has experience with the southern lands. She will help you in your journey across these ridges”.

Daniel looked at the girl. Yeah, he remembered her, albeit they hadn’t spoken much the first time he had met Kendar’s family. She had put up some muscle, developing an athletic, toned physique in these years. She certainly looked like someone used to the rough environment, judging by the way that she carried herself, the simple and functional leather corset and shorts she wore, and the enormous bow that she carried on her back. Daniel wasn’t even sure that he was able to lift one of the two massive giant boar tusks that made it, even more so to use such a weapon. There was little doubt that she could though, given both her muscles and the fact that she towered over most of the other orcs, apart from his brother, often by a considerable amount. She was already tall back then, and Daniel could swear she had grown at least 4-5 inches in these three years, probably more.

“A woman?” said Sir Geralt, “What help she could be? Killing dragons is no quest for…” he stopped speaking abruptly as a rock hit him squarely on his nose, an annoyed snarl coming from the orc huntress as a trail of blood started pouring from Sir Geralt’s nostrils.

“I thank you Kendar, but this is not necessary. We will find our way to Estilvar. No need to risk one of your men, especially a member of your family.”

“He’s not risking anything, human” intervened Zevna “I offered to escort you myself.  This monster is menacing my tribe, and it’s my duty to protect them. If you intend to slay it, I want to help. If I fall, I will have died an honorable death.”

“If that’s the case,” said Sir Gregory, hiding the slight disgust on his face “We are happy to have you on board, miss Zevna. Shall we move, Milord?”

“Wait, before we head out,” said Sir Daniel “Mizar?”

“Yes Milord?” said the half-orc as he trudged towards Daniel’s steed, its movement rendered difficult by the large bandaging the orcs had applied on his left thigh, before a much taller orc girl, roughly his age, reached for him, seeing that he was falling towards the ground.

“You’ll stay here, Kendar and his family will take care of you until your wound is healed.”

“But…mi-milord, sir, I’m fine, it’s just a scratch, I can travel and fight as well as the others.”

“No, you cannot. You need help even standing. Do not worry, you are getting paid for your service as we agreed.” Said Daniel, grabbing a small purse from his saddlebag,  briefly checking its contents before handing it to Mizard.

“But...I…”

“Enough buts” answered the noble “You need to rest, it’s an order. When you’re settled, they will accompany you back home. Am I made myself clear?”

The young orc lowered his eyes, frowning.

“Yes sir.” said Mizar, weakly.

“We should be getting going” intervened the orc huntress “It’s gonna take more than a day to get out of the highlands.”

“Yes, let’s go. Please Zevna, lead the way.”

She nodded, putting her fingers in her mouth, causing a long whistle to come out of it. Shortly after, they saw a massive direwolf, roughly 6 and a half feet tall at the shoulder, make its way towards the riders, its approach causing a frightened yelp from Sir Henryk, the youngest knight of the entourage.

“Don’t worry kid, she is well trained” said Zevna, patting the beast’s shoulder before grabbing ahold of its fur to heave herself on its saddled back, kicking her legs to signal to her mount to move.

The journey towards the border was uneventful, their orcish guide allowing them to cross the rest of the highlands in a couple of days, avoiding being attacked by other tribes.  obtain safe passage across the rest of the highlands.

As the noon of the third day approached, they crossed into Estilvarian territory, the rough highlands slowly transitioning to plains and fields, the green of the unripe wheat shining on the morning sun.

As they moved into a border town, searching for a place to stop for the night, they saw the strange, frightened looks of the townsfolks, directed especially to the peculiar ride of their guide. As they approached the market square, they were stopped by half a dozen guards, who were gesturing towards the direwolf, saying something that Daniel, helped more by the context than the knowledge of the language, was able to interpret as them wanting the direwolf out of the town, or else.

He stepped in front of the group, trying to explain, in the best Estilvarian that he could remember from the days of the Academy, that he was Sir Daniel de Level, son of the Duke of Vernesse, in Atheran, and that she was their guide, and that they had an important mission to accomplish, and that the direwolf was trained and not a danger for anyone.

He must have overstated his linguistic abilities, because as he ended his sentence,  he saw 8 or so crossbows pointed at him, ready to fire, as who appeared to be the sergeant shouted angrily at him, saying, as far as he could understand, that he was gonna arrest them on the spot if they didn’t fuck off.

As he tried to reapproach the situation, he heard a feminine voice behind him, speaking in fluent Estilvarian, demanding to be released, pulling out a piece of parchment from her backpack as she said that someone, he couldn’t gather who, would be informed. Her words and the document that she carried seemed to have some effect on the graduate, who, as he read the letter, immediately froze, gesturing for all the guards to lower their crossbows, before moving to the side to allow them to pass.

Completely dumbstruck, Daniel watched as Zevna grabbed ahold of the rains of Razor, her direwolf, guiding it on the large road, the animal growling menacingly towards the terrified graduate as the huntress passed him.

Completely dumbstruck, the knights followed her, reaching a bustling inn shortly thereafter.
“We can stay here,” said Zevna, moving her long, black hairs away from her face with her hand “I’ve slept here sometimes, the stable should be large enough to accommodate all your mounts.”

“What about…yours?” said Sir Gregory, dubious.

“The owner likes Razor to stay with the horses. She’s a light sleeper, keeps an eye out for the inn during the night.” She said, removing her bow from her back, and securing it to the saddle. “Makes sure that nobody gets funny ideas.”

“Nice job back there with the guard, by the way,” intervened Sir Daniel “I had no idea that an orc could speak Estilvarian so well. Where did you learn it?”

“As my brother said, back at the village, I have experience. I have visited these lands often, helping other tribes trade with the people of this valley.” She then moved towards him, her 7’3’’ form casting a shadow on the knight. At 6 feet of height, he wasn’t used to finding many men considerably taller than him, and even fewer women; He couldn’t help but feel intimidated and slightly emasculated by the way in which she effortlessly towered over him and the rest of his men.  

“You humans always assume stuff about us” continued Zevna, looking down at him, slightly amused by his uncomfortable expression “Even you, who I’m sure knows better, given how you treated us in the past, can’t shake those rumors from his head.”

“I a-apologize,” said Daniel, starting to sweat “I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you. It won’t happen again.”

“I wanna trust you” answered Zevna “My brother does, and the elder does, and they are wise men. Just remember that being a good man takes effort, and falling into old ideas is very easy” she added, moving he face closer to him, looking at him intently with her large, brown eyes, before pulling out, her dark green lips curled into a smile.

“Let’s get inside, I’m starving,” she said to the group, moving towards the tavern door, ducking slightly to avoid bumping her head on the doorframe.

The knights followed suit, tired from the day on horseback, looking for a bed to crash on.

In the following days, they inquired about their quest, the location of the princess, and the perils that would wait for them on their way. They discovered that 3 years before, the king and queen of Estilvar had died during the great plague that had ravaged the kingdom, alongside most of the royal family and many civilians. The only survivor of royal blood, and the current queen, was a niece of the king, who at the time of the plague, had been married to a foreign prince.

Also, it seemed that the nature of Princess Lysanne’s curse had been kept under the utmost secret, given how nobody seemed to know what exactly it was about. That was unfortunate, thought Daniel, that would have made the dispelling it easier.

At least, they had a trace regarding the location of the castle: Apparently, there was an area similar to what the dusty notes they had followed described, full of giants and trolls, and where numerous griffins nested, in the southern part of the kingdom, inside the mountain range that the locals called “The Boarhead mountains”.  In this area, there was one of the tallest mountains of the range, known as “The Ashen Peak” for the layer of grey soot that covered its ground.

A perfect potential home for a fire-breathing dragon.

Thanks to the help of Zevna, it took them less than two weeks to reach the city at the base of the mountain range, where they learned that, yes, there had been numerous sightings of a huge red dragon flying above the mountain range, and that it often moved beyond that, enough that its large silhouette flying overhead had become somewhat a common sight for the inhabitants. Strangely enough, according to the reports, it had never attacked towns or villages in the area.

Sir Roger couldn’t make sense of its behavior.

“Usually, a dragon, especially one this large, would consider a city like this one, full of people and riches” explained the older monster hunter, with a beer mug in its hand “ripe for the taking. They love submitting people to their every whim, forcing them to do what they want, to bring them food, riches for their hoard, etc.”

“So you’re saying that not only it’s fucking huge,” said Zevna, her arms crossed “But it’s also a weird one? That’s just great.”

“I’m saying that we need to gather some more informations” answered Sir Roger “and be careful while we do that”

“Well,” said Sir Daniel, “I think that we have gathered whatever rumor, chronicle, note, report we could find here, I think that any other information must be found on the field.”

“We will need to be watchful” intervened Sir Andrew “People seemed to be very wary of going up those mountains. Never saw so many groups of mercenaries refusing coin out of fear.  Those cliffs must be full of nasty things. ”

“Look at you,” said Sir Bernard, stabbing a huge piece of mutton with his knife, pointing it at Andrew  “Back in the days when we started you wouldn’t lose a chance to get into the fray…” he added, taking a large bite out of the meat, half of the gravy falling from his mouth onto the table “Whaf happenef?”

“I had a son,” said Sir Andrew, calmly “ The days of the Academy are over, I have a family now.”
He smirked slightly.

“Also, I remember that more often than not I had to jump into the fray to save your butt, am I right Daniel?” he said, looking at his friend, who nodded mockingly.

“Bah!” answered Sir Bernard, ignoring his last comment as juice fell from his half-open mouth “You made a mistake in getting your wife pregnant, women wait only for that to lock you in the prison priests call marriage! Ain’t I right, kid?” he asked, giving a forceful pat on the shoulder of Sir Henryk, making him drop his mug of ale.

“Hmm? Oh…yeah” the young knight answered, having barely noticed what he had dropped, as he looked at the only girl in the party dreamily, his chin resting on his other hand.

“What’s up with this kid?” said Sir Bernard, gulping a third of the ale in his mug.

“Don’t worry Bernard” intervened Sir Geralt, clinking his mug with him “If Sir Andrew doesn’t follow you, I will. Rest assured that I will never get caught by any damsel or milady that flutters her eyelashes at me, they only bring trouble!”

“See, Geralt gets it!” commented Sir Bernard “You know, we should go find a brothel, while we are still among civilized folks. It would really help in relieving the tension of the boy here, he’s a nervous wreck since we fought those highwaymen a few days ago.”

“If you two idiots are done” said Daniel, glowering at them  “We are trying to make a plan for tomorrow!”

“Whatever” was the only answer that Sir Bernard gave him, downing the rest of the contents of the mug.

Rolling his eyes, the young noble then turned to the huntress.

“Zevna,” said Daniel  “Can we try to find a safeway in between the mountains?”

“Sure, from what I understood, these mountains don’t seem really different than the Greying Highlands, so finding our way around there shouldn’t be too hard.  And about those wild beasts….as your monster hunter here could testify, direwolves are easy to deal with if you can use a blade and griffins’ nests can be avoided.”

“Correct” convened Sir Roger “Giants and Trolls are another matter, but you would know that their hunting grounds and camps are pretty easy to recognize.”

“Well then,” said Sir Gregory “I suppose we have a plan. I suggest you all go get a good night’s rest, and at dawn, we start to make our way towards the mountains.”

Back in his room, Daniel stared at the wooden ceiling. Sleep wasn’t coming to him. The recent discoveries concerned him. There was something about the whole endeavor, something about that beast, that didn’t seem right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but for some reason, he felt that this dragon had something different to it. Doubt started seeping into his mind. Sure, they had a group of heavily trained fighters, his magic, a, for what he had seen, very skilled orc huntress, and all the wit and the years of experience of Sir Roger, who had also given him the small vial of viscous liquid he was holding in his hands, a rare oil that was supposedly their secret weapon against the beast. Yet, if the records were true, he wasn’t sure that what they had was gonna be enough. This was probably the hardest quarry they could have gone at.

Still, backing away now would only mean admitting to his father and the people that they were right about him. No, he needed to do this, he needed to prove that he was worth something. But how?

He stood up, grabbed his riding boots, and slowly put them on.

Maybe a bit of fresh air would help him clear his mind.

As he ventured into the quiet courtyard outside the inn, he noticed a tall figure, leaning against a wooden pillar, her arms crossed, looking at the sky.

As he approached the figure, he saw its form spring up from its position, and before he could react, he was thrown against a nearby wall, the impact making him yell in pain, as a large hand squeezed his right shoulder, pinning him to the stonework.

As the pain made him close his eyes, he heard a deep, female voice, speaking in a menacing tone.

“There is nothing here for you, dude. Go away, before I crush your skull.”

As he reopened his eyes, he felt the pressure on his shoulder release, as the large form of Zevna appeared before him, her tusks glistening in the moonlight, her mouth slowly curling away from the menacing expression she had had before.

“Oh…it’s you… I’m sorry, I thought that it was a robber or pickpocket” said the huntress,  backing away from him, the top of her head inches away from the lantern that was hanging from a support on the balcony of the second floor of the building.

“It’s okay” answered Daniel, his voice still broken by the pain. “You-you’re never too safe these days.”

“Yeah, they always think that because I look the way I do, I am some kind of oblivious meathead.” commented Zevna.

“What are you doing out here by the way?” said Daniel, rotating his shoulder to ensure that nothing was broken.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m having trouble sleeping.”

“Oh, so we’re here for the same reason,” said Zevna, looking out in the distance, “I’ve never been so far from my village for more than 1-2 suns, and I can’t say I like it.”

“You’re homesick, it’s normal.”

“It’s not just that. You heard what the other tribes said, what if the dragon attacks while we’re here, while I am here? I know that the tribe and my brother can handle themselves, but still…I can’t help but worry.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” he said, causing the orc's lips to curl in a weak smile

He then noticed that she was holding something in her hand, a bouquet of small flowers.

“What are you got there?”

“Oh, it's nothing…someone left those beside the door of my room…for every inn we visited in the last three days.” Said Zevna.

“Oh, we have an admirer it seems…you should have thought about it before you went to nurse his shoulder wound every day.”

“It would have gotten infected” replied the orc “I was just taking care of my caravan. Sir Henryk is a fine boy, cute even, but he’s not my type.”

“But you kept the flowers”
“They do smell nice, and giving flowers is something that orcs don’t really do,” she said, taking a sniff of the bouquet. “But yeah, the boy is too soft and callow for me” she added.

“You know” commented Sir Daniel “You changed a lot from the shy young girl that I remembered.”

“Well, lots of things changed in the meantime,” she said, pointing at her broken right tusk. “I had to grow a thicker skin.”

“Who did that to you?”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Let’s just say that after that, I trained every day to make sure that nobody could take advantage of me anymore.”

“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” he said, stroking her forearm. It was almost twice the size of his arms “But if that’s of any solace to you, you look great. I can see why Sir Henryk seems to fancy you.”

He saw Zevna’s eyes widen slightly, as she made a step toward him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know” he answered, embarrassed “…you’re certainly easy on the eyes.”

Indeed, she was, thought Daniel. Away from the hardships of her home, it seemed that the rougher side of her appearance had started to become a little less predominant, revealing the beautiful figure hidden underneath.

He shook his head, realizing that he was starting to stare at her.

Still, his gaze stopped on her long enough to make the orc notice, and she smirked, looking down at him, the moonlight reflected on her large black eyes.

“Oh-oh, I didn’t know that Sir Daniel de Leval was the type to like orc ladies, considering the quest he’s on.”

“Wha-what are you talking about” said Daniel, avoiding her gaze.

“You know, saving the princess and all of that…don’t you wanna marry her after? I heard she’s beautiful, with her red hair and emerald-green eyes.”

“Su-sure, she sounds very beautiful, but I doubt she will want to marry the son of a lower duke.”

“Don’t say it like that, I’m sure that you have a trail of maidens that will be more than happy to marry a knight like you.”

“Well, in a certain sense…” said Daniel, unsure of where this was going. “But I don’t know…”

“What is that you don’t know?”

“Well, I haven’t thought much about ma-marriage yet. I don’t really have a lady that strikes my fancy at the moment.”

“I see…still, you said you find me beautiful.”  Said Zevna, her cheeks slightly red, as she inched ever so slightly closer to the knight, her toned legs almost brushing against his lower torso.

Then, he was pushed against the wall as he felt the sensation of two lips meeting his own. Taken aback by the sudden feeling, it took him a moment, and the broken tip of a tusk that he sensed against his right cheek, to realize who those lips belonged to. He started to reciprocate,  feeling the texture of her lips, full and meaty, as his tongue snaked out of his mouth to meet hers, trying its best to maneuver in the limited space between her large tusks, which was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated. As the two muscles met, an electrifying sensation overcame him, as the two organs twirled and twisted against each other. Unfortunately, the feeling lasted only a single moment, and Zevna’s tongue retreated into her mouth as she pulled back from the kiss abruptly.

He opened his eyes, looking up at her, seeing her averting her gaze as her cheeks became crimson.

“We-well.  I  think we all ne-need a good ni-night’s rest. Tomorrow is a bu-busy day.”  said Zevna “Go-good night, Daniel, sleep we-well” she added, starting to move towards the door at a brisk pace, her demeanor significantly shyer than before.

“Wa-wait, Zevna” he said, but she was already inside the inn, the door closing behind her.

He rushed in, looking around in the quiet common room. Zevna was nowhere to be found.

After a handful of seconds spent searching for the huntress, Daniel moved towards the stairs, and started to ascend silently, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

He had no idea that Zevna, taking advantage of his scarce eyesight in the completely dark room, had already slipped out of the room, and was now looking at him from outside a window.

She sighed heavily. Better check out on Razor, she thought, moving towards the stables.