BALLAD OF THE ORC PALADIN

Unwelcome Faces, Hidden Paths

The group emerged from the catacombs into the cold, biting air of the Valkran wilderness. The oppressive fog that had followed them through Draigenholt still clung to the landscape, but the air outside felt lighter than the dark magic they had faced beneath the earth. Kaito breathed deeply, the fresh air a small relief after the suffocating confines of the ancient tunnels.

But the world above was no safer than what lay beneath. Valkra was a land teetering on the edge of chaos, and their journey to the temple was far from over.

As they stood on the rocky outcrop overlooking the wild, Grushak grunted, hefting his axe back over his shoulder. "We need supplies and a place to rest. Can't push forward without regrouping."

Kaito nodded in agreement, feeling the ache in his muscles. The battle in the catacombs had taken its toll on all of them. His connection to the strange light within him had saved them, but he still had no idea how to control it, or what it truly was. He couldn't shake the memory of the dark figure—its words, its power. It was clear that the warlords had allied themselves with forces far darker and older than anyone realised.

"We can't afford to linger too long," Seris added, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. "The warlords' scouts will be looking for us, and they won't stop. But I know a place we can resupply—a village not far from here, hidden in the forests."

Grushak glanced at her, his scepticism clear. "Another village in Valkra? I thought most of these places were either under warlord control or abandoned."

Seris smirked. "Not this one. Redwater is different. The warlords leave it alone for the most part. It's small, off the main roads, and fiercely independent. They don't take sides, but they'll trade with anyone who can pay. We'll be able to get what we need there."

Kaito could sense the tension rising in the group. They were exhausted, on edge, and the recent encounters had rattled them more than they wanted to admit. But Seris was right—they needed supplies. They couldn't afford to continue toward the temple without food, rest, and some sense of direction.

"Let's move," Kaito said, adjusting the pack on his shoulders. "Redwater's our best chance."

The journey to Redwater took most of the day. The forest they travelled through was dense and wild, the trees tall and ancient, their twisted branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal hands. Despite the relative quiet of the forest, Kaito couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Valkra was alive with dark magic, and it clung to everything—the air, the land, the trees. The weight of the looming conflict was palpable.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the village, the sun had dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees. Redwater was small, tucked away in a secluded valley with only a few buildings clustered around a large central well. Smoke rose from the chimneys of simple wooden houses, and the smell of roasting meat hung in the air. Unlike Draigenholt, there was no visible tension here. The village had an air of quiet resilience, the kind of place that had survived by staying out of sight.

As they approached, the villagers stopped what they were doing, their eyes locking onto the newcomers. There was a brief, stunned silence, and Kaito noticed several of them whispering among themselves, their eyes wide. It took him a moment to realise what was happening—they were staring at him.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby window. The broad, green skin, the tusks—his orcish form. In the chaos of battle and travel, Kaito had grown somewhat accustomed to his new body, but to these villagers, the sight of an orc walking into their quiet haven must have been shocking. He stood a head taller than anyone else, his hulking frame drawing immediate attention.