Brothers of War

CHAPTER 1

It was still an early morning when the column of fifty odd horsemen, rode inside Vur-Paan, an orcish village on the far north of Chaygor. Seemingly this was nothing strange, considering here even the youngest ones had an affinity to ride. It was often said that orcs learn to control the horse before they even take the first steps. Which wasn't far from the truth.

Horses roamed freely here, in Chaygor. In herds that often surpassed thousands of specimens. They were gorgeous animals. And yet wild and unbridled. Fast, strong and fierce. The true lords of the fields and plains. Orcs soon find out that without these noble animals, they had no chance of taming the wilderness of Chaygor.

But first they needed to learn to tame the horses. This skill was perfected over many generations, becoming an art. And now it was almost inherent in every orc child. Up to the point even the ten year olds had the knowledge to tame their own horses. And the proficiency to ride them on par with the grown ups.

But the horsemen that rode in Vur-Pan that morning weren't children. They weren't orcs even. They were humans. All of them were soldiers. All of them, young officers. All of them, wearing uniforms of villages, towns and cities they were coming from. All of them were armed. But still they weren't on the warpath.

The war ended a year ago. The war which held humans and orcs in feud for the past three decades. The war that took away many lives on both sides. Broke many families. Destroyed villages and towns. Created the disdain between these two races. And left them with anger and hate and intolerance. Something they were now trying to rectify with this peace treaty. They were trying to rebuild the bonds between these two races. These soldiers haven't come here to wage war. They came in the name of peace.

One of the soldiers was Thorin Lutir, the lieutenant from Issurk. Military town and fortress at the south of Tanmar, a region bordering with Chaygor in the east. Thorin was tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms, reaching almost to his knees. His fists resembled mallets. They were rough looking, due to often use of weaponry. His dark-brown, almost black hair was tied into a short ponytail.

Preferably always clean shaved, since the first day he joined the army, Thorin decided to let his beard grow, just before they ventured on this journey. And now, after more than two and a half months on the road, he looked more to the wild mountain man, than an officer.

Despite being only twenty eight years of age, Thorin was an experienced soldier. He joined the service more than thirteen years ago. With the last ten spending as an active participant of battles in war against orcs and their allies. In war, he thought it lasted for far too long. This war which could perhaps even be avoided, took away several of his closest friends.

The war left a deep and permanent mark on Thorin. It could be said it shaped him. And perhaps most importantly, it gave him a lesson in life. This was a bit absurd, seeing the only certainty in war was death. Or perhaps because he was personally responsible for the deaths of dozens of orcs.

It is war. He heard others saying. Kill or be killed. They are just fucking orcs, who gives a shit? Many of his combatants projected open hatred towards this race. With it they were probably trying to lower the guilt they were undoubtedly feeling deep inside. The skirmishes definitely haven't started from hatred or intolerance. They formed in due time, but only because of the real reasons the war started. Because of the fight for territories. And because of the fight for the resources.

Orcs as humans also had the pretense to expand in the region of Tanmar. They too sought to seize control over the Laorn mountains. Over the riches of ores this place was known for. Thorin could not hate orcs for that. They were doing the same as humans. Would he therefore have to hate everyone, just so he could keep his conscience clean. Or he should simply stop generalizing things. To try and get to know other races, their customs and interests, before he could actually judge them.

The opportunity to do so presented itself not long after the very signing of the peace treaty. The opportunity Thorin wholeheartedly accepted. It was then he realized he yearned to learn more about orcish culture. But now, as he found himself on this main village square, he wondered if he possibly made the mistake.