Chapter 67: The Half-Orc Party

“This round is on me,” said the half-orc in leather armor as he approached Raymond's group. He spoke the Goldvale tongue so well that Raymond could barely hear an accent. His voice was clear and crisp, quite unlike Henk's heavy nasal tone.

“It was nothing.” Raymond nodded and accepted the offer.

The three half-orcs moved another table over and joined it to Raymond's. Once they had taken their seats, one of them asked, “You're not from Brightwater, are you?”

Raymond nodded. “We're all from out of town.”

“Where are you from?” the half-orc woman suddenly asked Henk. Her accent was as strong as his. She seemed to be from the north as well.

“The Duchy of Nightraven. Frostwind Fortress,” Henk replied.

At once, the woman tried speaking to him in another language. Henk answered in the same tongue, and the two began conversing. It was presumably the language of Nightraven.

The languages of Nightraven and Goldvale did not seem very different. Raymond listened closely and occasionally recognized a few words. If they spoke more slowly, he suspected he might understand the general meaning. At their current pace, however, he could not keep up.

The other two half-orcs were not idle. They raised their cups and toasted Derek and his men in turn. Derek's group responded just as readily, and before long they were all drinking together.

Raymond glanced around the table and realized that Teddy had vanished without anyone noticing. He could not help smiling. The man was every bit as cowardly as Raymond had expected. In that case, he probably would not have the courage to join their attempt to recover the cargo from the reed island either.

The cargo recovery job?

An idea suddenly struck Raymond, and he turned his attention to the three half-orcs. Their gear did not look especially fine, but it was simple and sturdy. They also carried themselves like seasoned fighters, not cowards who knew nothing beyond boasting and drinking.

Raymond looked at Henk, who was still talking to the woman. Whatever they were discussing, he rarely saw Henk look so relaxed.

“Henk. Henk,” Raymond called.

“Huh? What?” It took Henk a moment to come back to himself and look over curiously.

After a brief hesitation, Raymond leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Are they all from your homeland? Can we trust them? I just realized they might be well suited to this job. What do you think?”

Henk hesitated and glanced at the three half-orcs. “No. Only she is. The other two aren't from the north. I don't know if they're trustworthy, but I think they're more capable than most people here.” He lowered his voice further. “And they haven't found work in a long time. I think they need this opportunity.”

Raymond murmured his agreement and nodded. It would take more than a day or two to learn whether someone was trustworthy. Then again, he had known Teddy for a long time, and Teddy still fled the moment a fight began. These half-orcs might not be reliable, but neither were the other mercenaries at the table necessarily any better.

This job was very different from their work in Blackstone. The town guard had led their previous operations, maintaining order and keeping the mercenaries under control. This job had been posted by Brightwater's City Watch, but the watch itself would not be taking part. The mercenaries had to organize both the manpower and the operation themselves. Even if they completed it successfully, they might turn on one another over the reward on the spot.

After thinking it over, Raymond raised a hand to draw everyone's attention, then cleared his throat. “This is our first time meeting, so let me introduce myself. I'm Raymond, from Blackstone.”

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“I'm Henk,” Henk added.

The others exchanged puzzled looks, but introduced themselves in turn.

“Derek.”

“Ben.”

“Warren.”

“Robin.”

The latter three were the other mercenaries traveling with Derek.

The three half-orcs looked at one another before the woman spoke. “I'm Mara.”

“Bram,” said the half-orc in leather armor.

The last half-orc said, “Ned.”

“All right—cheers!” Raymond raised his cup.

“Cheers!” Everyone clinked cups.

Raymond drained his cup and let out a satisfied breath. Then he asked casually, “Have you heard about the fishfolk bounties around Brightwater?”

“The fishfolk bounties?” The three half-orcs exchanged glances. Bram gave a wry smile. “Of course. We've killed plenty of fishfolk ourselves.”

“Are they difficult to deal with?” Robin asked eagerly. He was the youngest of Derek's men, and Raymond thought Robin might even be a year or two younger than himself.

“Not at all. I killed more than a dozen by myself.” Bram grinned, baring his canines. He was fairly handsome, and the pointed teeth gave him a certain charm.

“Then you must have made quite a bit. Each fishfolk is worth thirty copper coins,” Ben remarked.

Bram sighed. “We were working with other people, and they gave us the smallest share. We wanted to hunt on our own, but they won't even let us into City Watch headquarters. Those bastards refuse to pay us the bounties.”

Raymond and Henk exchanged a look. After a moment's silence, Raymond said, “We're thinking of hunting the fishfolk too. But I've heard they have a leader nine feet tall that can control water. Is that true? I don't think we could handle something like that.”

Mara burst out laughing and slapped Raymond on the shoulder hard enough to make him jolt. “Only you would believe that. How could a fishfolk possibly control water?”

The other two half-orcs joined in her laughter, but no one in Raymond's group did. They came from Blackstone. Some of them had seen the Dragonblood Goblin breathe fire, and the rest had heard about it. A fishfolk controlling water would hardly seem strange by comparison.

Seeing their reaction, Bram seemed to realize something. “You truly believe the leader is nine feet tall and can control water?”

Raymond nodded. “Until we see it for ourselves, we can't rule out the possibility. The world is vast, Bram. There will always be things you've never seen and can't understand.”

Bram spoke with a knowing air. “I've seen plenty of things other people would never believe. But when it comes to this particular fishfolk leader, you really can take my word for it.”

“Oh? Why?” Raymond asked.

“Because I've actually seen it.” Bram picked up a piece of fruit from the table and took a bite. “About two weeks ago, I took a job escorting a caravan to Brightwater. We encountered the fishfolk leader on the way. It was much larger than the others, but only about six feet tall.”

“I see.” Raymond understood, though he still said, “Not necessarily. Perhaps we aren't talking about the same leader. Where did you encounter it?”

“That's possible.” Bram nodded. “It attacked our caravan near the shore of Deepwater Lake. I killed six fishfolk by myself. Their leader fought me too. It was certainly strong, but it was no match for me. Once it realized it couldn't win, it fled into the lake. I wanted to follow and kill it, but the man in charge of the caravan ordered me to stay and protect the caravan. He threatened to dock my pay if I left.”

“Where did it flee when you last saw it?” Raymond asked.

“Toward a patch of reeds, I think.” Bram considered the question. “It wasn't far from shore. My guess is that their lair is there.”

“So the leader really isn't difficult to deal with?” Raymond asked again, making certain.

Bram nodded firmly. “Of course not. If that damned caravan master hadn't stopped me, I might have killed it already. He was a real bastard. Even after I escorted them safely to Brightwater, he docked my pay because some of the cargo had been damaged.”

Raymond was about to offer a few consoling words when Bram continued in a sinister tone. “Still, I heard the caravan ran into bandits on the return journey. All their goods were stolen, and every last one of them was sold into slavery. Heh heh heh...”

“Damn slavers,” Warren muttered, apparently reminded of something. Bram's hand stopped with his cup still raised, and he stared fixedly at Warren. Confused and slightly frightened, Warren shrank back.

Bram chuckled. “Yes. Damn slavers. Those same damned slavers captured our beautiful Mara. Fortunately, I rescued her.”

Rescued her?

Raymond's gaze snapped toward Mara. He remembered the half-orc woman he had seen imprisoned during his first visit to the black market. Could this be her? The captive had spent most of the time with her face buried between her knees, so Raymond had never seen her clearly enough to be certain now.

“I understand.” Raymond tapped the table. “If the fishfolk leader isn't too difficult to handle, so much the better. I have a profitable job. Are you interested?”

“What kind of job?” Bram looked at him curiously. “Nothing illegal, I hope.”

Raymond smiled and shook his head. “No, no. It's completely legitimate. The City Watch wants us to go to the reed island and recover a shipment stolen by the fishfolk. If we can kill their leader while we're there, there's an additional bounty.”