The city was Orcish, yes, but these Orcs had abandoned their nomadic and militaristic lifestyles centuries ago. Oh, they were still fearsome warriors, but they were also merchants and explorers. Their city, a hub of trade, the arts, learning, academia, and magic. It was also a city of law; a great departure from the Orcish societies and tribal structures of the past.
As we rolled past the fortress most recently taken by the Sand Elves, we could begin to see the glow on the horizon that indicated a city of great size lay ahead, cookfires, smithies, torchlit streets, lanterns hung in windows, and the low hum of commerce.
The smell of the brine from the Great Eastern Ocean began to permeate the air, prickling the senses. As we approached the massive wall that encircled Kruklig, Orcs in the guard towers waved us through, caravans like ours being a common sight.
The place teemed with foot and carriage traffic. Many shops were open. Orcs stood in groups holding skewers over open fires along the street cooking heavily spiced meat, . The dish was once made with man flesh to celebrate victory in battle, now it was most likely goat.
The smell of , strong coffee, horse manure, body odor, and jasmine was nearly overpowering, but I found myself getting used to it quickly.
The sounds, the wagons clattering along the road, heavy with cargo, the deep and gruff Orcish voices, their laughter sounding like the growl of an angry dog, created an otherworldly din.
Visually, it was a sea of muted colors. As is their tradition, the Orcs dress in subdued colors: blacks, browns, grays, maroons and dark blues and greens. The style of their clothing giving off a decidedly military feel.
The air was cool without the ocean breeze. With it, it was chilly. The air coming off the water brought with it the smell of fish and waterlogged wood. This reminded me of Wikehold.
I heard a clock chime nearby, ten bells, and the city still this busy.
I asked of Margrin and Janiver “Have either of you ever been here on the East Coast?”
Margrin answered, "It's been many years, but yes, I used to come here on a fairly regular basis on Syndicate business. Hopefully they'll still remember me. They'd be our best source for the information we seek."
Janiver replied, “I was actually born on the other side of the Great Eastern Ocean and spent some time in Kruklig as a child. Horeth is the name of that continent on the other side. It's all kingdoms of men. One of those, Ilsmaria, my birthplace, was where my mother and father studied the many different kinds of plants and animals on those shores. My father is a great zoologist, and my mother an amazing illustrator. They've published many books on the flora and the fauna of our world.”
"And now I know why your name is so familiar, of course, I read their books as a child. We still have the complete editions in our home in Wikehold.”
Margrin looked downcast. "Are you okay, Friend?” I asked
"I will be, My Prince, I just can't help wondering what could have been with my family when I hear stories like Janiver's.”
She suddenly remembered the story of Margrin's family and was beside herself. “Oh, Mister Margrin, I'm so very sorry! I wasn't thinking!"
He blew it off, “It's fine, Janiver, I've dealt with it my whole life."
“Sir," she asked, “have you ever tried to find anyone else in your family? Perhaps you have grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins out there who never found out what happened to your parents."
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"I don't know who my parents were. Where would I even start? I have no names, I'm not sure where they came from. I've always assumed they were from Nez Ambril, but no one there remembers two adults and a child leaving and not returning from around that time.”
She smiled, "Perhaps I have an answer for you, Mister Margrin! But wait, how did you get your name? Ephysieryón means the son of Ephysier in Elvish. Is that not your father's name then?”
"Hah! No, that was the name of the Sandlise Syndicate head at the time and he gave me my name.”
"Well, I have a spell that may give you the answers you're looking for. Actually, I know it will. I can tell you everything about you and your family with a little of your blood.”
Margrin was stunned. "I'll have to think about that, Janiver. It's quite hard to explain, but I haven't known for so long. I'm secure with who I am. I'm wondering if it might not be better to just leave it alone.”
"Margrin, trust me, it's okay, I understand. It's a lot to take in on such quick notice. Listen, if ever you decide you're ready, just come to me and we'll perform the necessary ritual. It's very easy. But you do it at your own pace. Okay? There's no pressure.”
"Thank you. It's just a lot to take in on short notice.”
Ravin interrupted, “Your stop is that building there, Tyner's Rest.”
He pointed to a non-descript three story building. The first floor was a tavern it seemed, and a busy one at that.
In an aside, Ravin said to us, “By the way, the name Kruklig means ‘City on the Edge of the World’ in Orcish. Oh, and Brevid and I will be staying here with you for a few days to act as guides. That will keep you from standing out too much.
There is a warehouse and stable a block down the avenue here. I will drop you all off and check the horse and wagon in. Go ahead and get settled and I will see you all in the morning. And, Prince Tendil, your name is Alfors Crimmins while you're in Kruklig. For the love of élois, take off that monstrous wedding band."
I had forgotten the ring. It had royal seals on it that made me stick out like a sore thumb.
The place was very pleasant inside, if not a little noisy. It was a typical tavern but clean. This was obviously where the non-Orc merchants and travellers stayed. There were numerous Elves and some Dwarves, Humans and a few Aardgnolls. The Humans were from all over, Feersland, Emfirinia, Lyridia, Swalesia, and some obviously from across the water — races I'd never even heard of.
I approached a middle aged black-haired High Elf woman tending the bar,
“Good evening, Miss, you have three rooms for Alfors Crimmins I believe?"
"Let me check the books, Love.” She stepped into a back room and reappeared with a ledger book, "Yes, Sir, already paid in full plus meals if you'd like something to eat.”
Quickly glancing at the chalk written menu behind the bar, "I'll have one of the fish stews for myself and two of the potato and onion soups with a basket of bread and three Orcish stouts if you don't mind, Ma'am.”
“Thank you kindly, Mister Crimmins. I'm absolutely famished," Margrin said, coming up behind me and having a seat at the bar.
“Yes, thank you kindly, Mister Crimmins," added Janiver, taking a seat next to him.
A long mirror behind the bar allowed us to watch what was going on in the place without looking too obvious. I noticed a man in a corner booth who seemed to be paying us undue attention, his cloak’s hood up over his head trying to hide his face and holding a long pipe. From the color of the smoke, it appeared to be goblin's nog. Maybe he wasn't looking at us. Maybe he was just staring into space.
Margrin leaned over and spoke in a low tone, “You've noted the fellow watching us so keenly?"
“Aye. He's a suspicious one. What's his business do you think? Does he plan robbery?”
"He may just be curious. Gray Elves are definitely a rarity outside of the Taliswood. Maybe we don't like people staring at us like hungry wolves.”
"What should we do?” I asked.
"Let me go have a quick chat,” Margrin said as he got up and headed that way.
"Margrin, wait …" but he was already halfway across the floor.
“What's he doing?" Janiver asked.
“I think he's trying to blow our cover I'm afraid," I replied.
We watched as Margrin took a seat opposite the gentleman in his booth. He seemed to be talking to the fellow in rather angry tones though we couldn't make out what was being said. Then the other fellow leaned back laughing. Margrin slammed a fist on the table and the man slid his hood back off his head. He was a High Elf from what I could tell, with short black hair and pale skin. Margrin was suddenly smiling and the two clasped hands eagerly. After a few moments of conversation, they shook hands again and Margrin came back.
Taking his seat, he leaned into me saying “That Elf is Imgrist Ferylyón, an old friend from the Syndicate out of Nez Clar?. Well, formerly out of Nez Clar?. He's been working here now for fifty years. So I've already found my contact. I told him I'd get with him tomorrow to start working on some leads for us.”
Our food arrived and we ate ravenously in silence. Ravin and Brevid finally made it back from the stables, paid for their rooms and went upstairs without acknowledging us.
I have to say, the food was very good. The stout, on the other hand, was nearly tar-like with far more alcohol in it than I was used to. I left a tip of two royals at the bar and we headed up to our rooms, eagerly wanting some sleep.