Chapter 96

The small bearded Orc stared at the bag on Lyra’s hip and then at the fistful of gold clutched in Opal’s fingers. He shifted his center of balance, his body language morphing in real time, becoming more open, relaxed, inviting, swift merchant math changing the calculus of the situation.

“You have an eye for the more exquisite pieces of craftsmanship young Goblin. This sword, Rockheart, spite of the soul, blade of masters, you won’t find anything quite like this from an Orcish warsmith, no, this came from outside our clan, from the Dwarves and their mountain Mega City riddled throughout the skysplitter mountain range. Those misty halls and ancient castles are of course all ruins now sadly, but the survivors still live on within, the great half-mile forges still light the night, the mountain faces bathed in orange-red. It is quite the stirring sight I mu-.”

“If this is going to be more bullshit stories with fake swords and lies like last time then I’m going to have to get my Boner out,” said Opal crossing her arms.

The merchant blinked at her wondering if he had misheard what she had just said.

“Your ... what?”

“My Boner. It’s magic.”

“The whorehouse is over there if you have need???”

“She, ah, is referring to a counterfeit detector, not an, ahem, actual pe- something.”

“ ... I see. Well there is no need for that, this is all above board and legitimate, see it even comes with a Dwarven certificate of authenticity, you can’t fake these.”

Opal took the produced paper from the Orc and studied it furiously, eyes darting left right left right, suspicion clear in her expression. After a moment she finished and nodded her head in confirmation, satisfied. Then she looked up.

“Yep. I still don’t know how to read. Boner!”

The Orc spluttered and snatched back the certificate.

“Gods! I simply cannot deal with dimwitted slave Goblins, why on earth people insist on sending them shopping...” He cleared his throat and turned to Lyra who raised a brow in question.

“This sword would obviously be at a reasonable price-”

“More!?” said Opal behind him

“Yes, only a few times more, but one such as yourself would sure-

“I’m here for a map not a sword, remember?” interrupted Lyra.

“And remember I am? Red! More gold!”

Lyra ignored Opal and placed her hand over the strings of the dimensional bag preventing it from being opened.

“Map please.”

The merchant eyed the sheep girl, analysing her as a potential customer. Not seeing what he hoped for he changed tact.

“Hmm. Yes, we do have maps, excellent ones if I do say so myself. Very well.”

The merchant returned the elegant broadsword to the stack and moved past it leaving an angry Opal with her arms spread in outrage. She was of course ignored, and the merchant began sorting through a pile of papers and sheets, many appearing aged and worn.

Lyra peered at them, then at the Orc.

“You seem ... different for an Orc, if you don’t mind me saying, uhm, a little vertically challenged?”

The Orc continued to rummage “Well, my Father is a Dwarf. How do you think I have an in with the Dwarven traders? Ain’t no one else around here that can get gear like I can. It’s made it easy to become the biggest purveyor of the clan, as much as it pisses off certain pure bloods.”

“And your Mother?”

“Yes, she is an Orc, a big ‘un, as you can imagine that makes my father a brave and courageous Dwarf, fearless even, heart like a lion, balls the size of mountains, and much like mountains he’d have needed to hike up my Mothe-”

“Yes! yes! I understand! please god stop talking!”

“Ah, apologies for that, I forget us Orcish folk care little for ideas of the city, best to keep things out and naked in the open we say. Ah, here we go.”

He pulled a browned with age map from the bottom of the stack, its edges curled and torn, spots of ink speckled across its surface.

Lyra examined the held map, not even bothering to reach out.

“This map looks terrible, is this really the best you have? Look, it barely shows anything!”

“Terrible! Terrible, she says. Oh no no no. Sheepy you have no idea what this is, do you?”

Lyra frowned, unsure what he was getting at. Then her brow rose in understanding.

“It’s ... enchanted?”

A broad smile broke over the Half-Orc’s face, flashing her a set of perfect sturdy white teeth.

“Watch.” He lifted a finger to the map’s surface and gently dragged it across the paper. As his finger moved the map moved with it, the intricately illustrated roads and forests and mountains and hills moving with his finger, more and more land appearing on one side of the map as more disappeared on the other, like a moving birds eye view.

“That seems like it might be quite useful.” said Lyra, viciously clamping down on her excitement and schooling her expression flat.

“Oh you have no idea, look you can even use two fingers and...” the Half-orc placed his stubby index and thumb on the surface and pulled them together. The map pulled out, showing more, the more intricate details fading, showing a broader but less detailed map.

Lyra twitched.

“H-how much?”

The Half-Orc gave her a smug look. “Oh, just a measly three hundred gold. I do recognise what that particular item is on your hip sheepy, not just anyone has one of those.”

“You think I’m- oh no, you don’t understand ... it’s, oh god, I-”

It was now the Half-Orc’s turn to frown in confusion. “What are you saying girl?”

“It’s my Mother’s, I had to run away from home, they beat and abused me every day for what I am, for who I am, for not being a pure blood! I’m just a worthless half! The unwanted spawn of a drunken fling of my Mother with some evil seducer of an Elf! You know what Elves are like! The Woolie clan hated me from the day I was born, they kept me in the basement. Then they used me as bait when they went into the dungeons! I was never allowed to level up until I ran away ... I’m- I’m sorry but I’m not what you think I am, I’m just an escaped half breed!” Lyra raised her hand to her eyes and wiped away the tears that had fallen across her cheek.

She subtly lifted her hoof out of sight of the merchant and kicked Kel who had been standing behind her in the knee. Kel yelped and the Half-orc’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes narrowing as Kel desperately tried not to move too much for fear of the centipedes.

“Ah, uhm, y-yes! The Half-woolie speaks the truth Braur, I can vouch for that, a friend of mine helped her escape and I’m, well, looking after her for the moment ... the situation is, ah, not good,”

Lyra put her hand behind her back and brought her index and thumb together in a pincer motion.

“It’s tragic? Yes, tragic! SO SAD!” yelped Kel, his voice rising several octaves in pitch.

“So you see, like you, I have suffered because of all the bigotry against us, we are the same you and I, allies, and really what ally would make an ally in need pay a whole three hundred gold, that would be remarkably cruel, callus, merciless- I- I’m not sure if I can go on, there’s times when the future has been s-so d-dark-” Lyra buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

The Half-orc raised a hand in protest as other nearby Orcs started to look over, wondering why there was a girl loudly crying her eyes out in his shop.

“Wait hold on a sec now sheepy-”

“Sheepy! That’s what my mother called me because I wasn’t a real Woolie!” bawled Lyra in hopeless misery.

“But didn’t the Gob-” Lyra wailed, “-Gods, godsdammit, this isn’t-” he sighed, “Fine, half, one fifty, discounted for a half in need.”

“One hundred!” sobbed Lyra.

The Half-orc’s eye twitched. “One hundred,” he ground out. “And don’t let anyone ever say I don’t care, cause I do.”

The bag on lyra’s hip opened and gold coins started being shoveled out onto the ground. Lyra snatched the map as the Half-orc bent down to gather them, a pleased expression on her face quickly hidden. The Half-orc returned to his feet, the gold clutched in his arms. He gave Kel a careful look.

“You make sure she’s okay, yeah? If she isn’t, I’ll ban you from my shop. Look after this one.”

A very specific kind of internal screaming momentarily crossed Kel’s face.

“Y-yes. I shall do that.” He managed to croak out after a moment.

“I also have a tragic story!” said a voice.

The Half-orc turned to find Opal.

“I’m sad too, so give me a discount!”

The Half-Orc looked over the Goblin in disgust.

“No. You’re lucky enough I don’t just bash your brains out for my levels. No discounts for Goblin slaves. It’s a rule.”