BALLAD OF THE ORC PALADIN

Prologue

The Grand Museum of the United Kingdom of Valkra stood as a monument to the nation's storied past. Its marble halls stretched wide and tall, the light from towering windows casting golden rays onto the many treasures that filled the space—ancient artefacts, relics of war, and portraits of heroes long passed. One such painting, positioned at the heart of the gallery, drew the attention of visitors both young and old.

It was a magnificent portrait, larger than life, framed in gold and surrounded by intricate carvings of orcs, elves, dwarves, and humans—united in a circle, their hands joined in harmony. But the figure at the centre of it all was what made visitors pause. The man in the portrait wore the robes of a king, richly embroidered and adorned with symbols of unity and peace. A crown, gleaming with jewels, rested on his brow. His gaze was fierce but kind, his posture regal yet humble.

He was an orc.

"Is that really a king?" one of the children asked, his small voice echoing through the grand hall. A group of them had gathered at the base of the portrait, their young faces filled with awe and confusion as they stared up at the image. "But he's an orc! I thought orcs were only warriors."

Another child, a girl with wide eyes, tugged at her friend's sleeve. "They always said the kings of Valkra were human. How could an orc be the king?"

A soft chuckle interrupted their questions, and the children turned to see an old man standing nearby, his cane tapping gently against the polished floor. His face was wrinkled with age, but his eyes still gleamed with the wisdom of someone who had lived through many tales. He smiled down at them, his voice warm and inviting.

"Ah," he said, his tone soft but rich with the weight of history, "so you've noticed, have you? That, my young friends, is no ordinary king. That is Kaito, the First Orc King of Valkra—the one who united this land and brought peace after years of war."

The children stared at him, wide-eyed, and one of them spoke up. "But how? How could an orc become king?"

The old man's smile deepened, and he gestured for them to sit, lowering himself onto a nearby bench with a soft groan of effort. "It's a story unlike any other," he began, his voice carrying through the hall. "One of bravery, sacrifice, and the power of hope. Kaito didn't come from a royal bloodline, nor did he seek the throne for power. In fact, he came from a faraway world—a world unlike ours."

"A different world?" one of the boys asked, his curiosity piqued.

The old man nodded, his eyes twinkling with the joy of storytelling. "Yes, indeed. He wasn't born in Valkra. He was just a boy from another world when he was brought here, and not as a king, but as an orc. In those days, orcs were feared and hated by many. But Kaito was different. He wasn't born a warrior, you see. He didn't fight for glory or power. He fought because he believed in something greater—because he wanted to protect the people who needed him."

The children leaned forward, captivated by his words.

Well then children let me tell you a tale unlike any other.