They chose the dead of night for their approach, the moon casting a ghostly pallor over the city. The streets were quiet, the usual clamor of the taverns and blacksmiths muted by the shroud of secrecy they had to maintain. Alex donned a hood to obscure his features, the weight of his sword reassuring against the unknown. They slipped through the shadows, their footsteps silent on the cobblestone, their breathing the only sound in the stillness.

  The palace loomed ahead, its towers piercing the velvet sky, each window a potential pair of eyes that watched for intruders. They scaled the wall with the grace of seasoned thieves; the cold stones bit their fingers. The guards up above patrolled the battlements with mechanical precision, yet Alex and his companions could move like shadows, seen by none and heard by none. Their hearts pummeled their chest, the beat of a pulse synchronized with the cadence of their fear.

  They gained Sir Castellanos's chamber, the heavy oak door a silent sentinel to the secrets within. Alex took a deep breath, the chill of the night air mingling with the warmth of his breath as he reached for the handle. The door creaked open, and he stepped inside to a dimly lit room; the candlelight cast flickering shadows across the ancient tapestries hanging upon the cold stone walls. He sat at his desk, leaning forward over a scroll, heedless of the menace that hovered just beyond his threshold.

  The human commander stepped inside, his boots soundless on the plush carpet. His allies fanned out, taking positions around the room, their eyes darting to the windows and the corridor beyond. The tension was palpable, a living entity that seemed to press down upon their very souls. Alex approached the desk, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.

  Sir Castellanos looked up, his eyes widening in surprise, yet his hand remained steady upon the parchment before him. "Who dares to disturb my sanctum?" he asked in a voice like the toll of a distant bell.

  With that, Alex stepped forward and let his hood fall. His face now visible, annoyance fled the advisor's features in favor of shock; eyes darting to the sword that still hung from Alex's side and into the shadow-laden room he kept them in. "I have come in peace," soothed the commander, "and bearing knowledge to set the path of our lands aright."

  Sir Castellanos's hand hovered over a hidden panel in his desk, his eyes never leaving the group. "You speak of knowledge, but your actions speak of treachery," he said, his voice a steely whisper. "State your business or leave before I summon the guards."

  Alex took a step closer, his hand still on the pommel of his sword. "We come with the truth of the Orcs, a truth that has been buried under layers of lies and propaganda. I have seen their lands, lived among them. They fight not for conquest, but for survival."

  Sir Castellanos's eyes narrowed, the candlelight dancing in the depths of his gaze. "What is it that you seek, Commander?"

  Alex leaned against the desk, his hand still on the sword's pommel. "I seek the truth," he said with a firmness in his voice. "The truth about the Orcs and why we fight them. I have seen their lands, their farms, their families. They are not mindless beasts but a people with a civilization mirroring our own.

  Sir Castellanos steepled his fingers, his eyes boring into Alex's. "Your words are treasonous," he said, cold as ice. "But I am a man who values knowledge above all. Speak, and I shall listen. But beware, for if your tale does not align with the truth I already know, you shall leave here in chains."

  Alex took a deep breath and began his recount, detailing his time among the Orcs, their way of life. He spoke of Grommash and his valor, the friendship forged in the fires of war, and the elixir that had saved his life. His voice was steady, his words measured, as he laid bare the deception that had fueled the centuries-long conflict.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Sir Castellanos listened, his face unreadable, his eyes never once leaving Alex's. The candle on his desk danced in the draft from the window, sending shivers of light across his features. The room was a tableau of tension, every heartbeat a drumroll in the quiet. When Alex finished speaking, the advisor said nothing for a very long time, his eyes drifting to the scrolls and tomes that surrounded him.

  Finally, he spoke. "Your words.they challenge everything we hold dear, Commander," he said, his voice measured. "Yet, I have felt the sting of doubt in the winds of war. I have seen the hunger for power in the eyes of our leaders, and the desperation in the eyes of those we send to die. I will not deny that I am intrigued."

  The candle danced, sending a sheen of shadows on the wall as Alex leaned into him, his voice in earnest. "Sir, I know this is hard to believe. But I swear on my honor, everything I've told you is true. The Orcs are not our enemies."

  Sir Castellanos's eyes were keen; his face did not betray his emotions. He leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and regarded Alex for a long moment. "Tell me, Commander," he began, his tone even, "what do you propose we do with this. revelation?"

  Alex felt the weight of his words, the gravity of the situation weighing upon him. "We must find a way to end the war," he said, his voice firm. "To show our people that we've been fighting for a lie."

  Sir Castellanos sighed, and his eyes sparkled in the light of the dancing candle flame. "The fear of the Orcs is deeply ingrained into our very societal fabric," he said with a heavy tone of resignation. "Generations have grown up on stories of their cruelty and barbarism. To even suggest that they are other than a threat to our very existence would be laughed at and accused of treason.

  He paused, his gaze drifting to the ancient map on the wall. "But the truth is, our fear is a tool, wielded by those who wish to maintain power. The Orcs are indeed powerful, but their magic is a double-edged sword. It has allowed them to reproduce at an alarming rate, but it has also made them vulnerable."

  "Vulnerable?" Alex questioned, his brow furrowed.

  Sir Castellanos nodded gravely. "Their magic is a gift and a curse. It lends them strength and numbers, yet consumes them. The elixirs they use to bolster their ranks are but an illusion of power, one bought at a terrible cost. Their birth rates are unnatural, unsustainable. If the war continues, the orcs will overrun us all," he warned, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction.

  "But the elves," Alex interjected, "They sell us their magic, knowing it fuels the war. Why don't they help us stop it?"

  Sir Castellanos's gaze grew distant as he spoke of the elves. "The elves are not the benevolent guardians they claim to be," he revealed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "They are the ones who gave the orcs the magic I mentioned."

  Alex's eyes widened in shock. "But why would they do such a thing?"

  Sir Castellanos leaned forward, his face grim. "The elves are a cunning and ancient race, Alex. They see the larger picture, the grand chessboard of our world. With humans and Orcs locked in eternal conflict, they maintain their power as the mediators, the ones who control the flow of magic and information. The war is their shield, a way to keep our eyes focused on an enemy we believe we understand while they manipulate us from the shadows."

  The pieces fell into place, sending a shiver down Alex's spine. "They profit from our suffering," he muttered; the victory that had once tasted sweet in the fields was now acrid.

  SUMMARY1: Castellanos says that the elves have given them the magic of unbridled reproduction, something absolutely unsustainable, and then orchestrate the war so they remain intermediaries to earn from the war and to keep humanity and the Orcs divided.

  Sir Castellanos nodded gravely. "The king and his inner circle are aware of the elves' machinations, but they are complicit in this dance of deception. The war keeps the coffers full and the people distracted from their own struggles. Peace would mean facing the harsh realities of governance, of caring for a populace that has suffered for so long."

  Alex's eyes narrowed in understanding. "They fear losing their power," he murmured. "Without the war, they would have to answer for their greed and neglect."

  Sir Castellanos nodded. "The solution, then, is to cut the strings that the elves pull," he said, and his eyes were shrewd. "We must find a way to neutralize their influence, to show our people that we can stand united against a common enemy, one that does not seek to destroy us, but to manipulate us for their own ends."

  Alex mused for a moment on this, the weight of the task heavy on his shoulders. "We have to find the source of this magic," he said, "The elixirs keeping the Orcs so numerous have to be manufactured somewhere. If we can find it and destroy it, we might have a chance at peace."

  A flicker of hope lit the advisor's eyes. "A bold move," he agreed, "but fraught with danger. The elves are notorious for guarding their secrets fiercely. They will not give up their control over the war without a fight."

  Alex nodded, his expression grim. "I understand," he said. "But I believe it's our only hope. We must act swiftly and decisively."

  With a clear mind of the mission, the group dissipated into the night. They would have to infiltrate the Elven Lands and find the source of the elixirs, which would take them right into the heart of enemy territory. The journey would be fraught with danger, but Alex did not let it deter him. The lives of his comrades and the future of humanity rested on his shoulders.