“Goodbye, Commander,” he forced out. “I... I wish you well in your future endeavors.”
He did not wait for Varen to respond, and instead hurried for the door out into the courtyard. He did not stop until he was back on the streets of Drol Kuggradh, halfway to his shop, before finally looking up from the stone paths beneath his feet and pausing to get his bearings.
An orc merchant was passing him on the other side of the path, followed by two laborers carrying large stacks of lumber. They glanced curiously at Korik as they walked past, but otherwise said nothing. After so long around elves, it felt almost strange to see other orcs going about their lives around him.
But soon he would never have to see another elf again. The thought brought him no relief as he continued on his way home.
“You’re back?”The recognition from Roz hit him all at once, as he turned down the cobblestone street of his shop. That, finally, caused him to smile. He was close enough to sense Roz—he was truly home.
“I’m back,” he thought in return, feeling a flood of emotion from her—relief and irritation and happiness all at once. “I’m bringing a friend. Get along with him.”
“Maybe,” came the response, and he stifled a chuckle. K’lir had been quiet, observing with his little head poking out of the collar of Korik’s tunic. He was sure Roz would tolerate him; he would just have to make sure K’lir got along with her.
The shop looked fine as he approached, which was a relief; he doubted anyone would have really tried vandalizing or stealing, but the thought had crossed his mind occasionally the longer he was gone. Roz was waiting for him just outside the door, her tail flicking; but when she rose to greet him, she stretched and meowed loudly, her tail standing straight up as she approached. He felt K’lir tense, and the little kit hissed—Roz’s ears flattened and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“None of that,” Korik reprimanded, lightly touching the kit’s forehead to connect with his magic. “Roz is your friend. Be nice.”
K’lir grumbled, but did not hiss again.
“A baby,” Roz thought, still looking at him with suspicion. “Let me see.”
Korik pulled the kit out from where he was bundled up. K’lir tried to crawl back in, but Korik set him down on the ground before he could. When they were side by side, the kit was very nearly the same size as Roz; the calico cat shot him an annoyed look when he had the thought, which made him chuckle. The two cats sniffed at each other, then Roz turned away with a flick of her tail and jumped back up onto one of the raised flowerbeds, leaving the kitten to look up at her from below.
“Cute,” she decreed, and Korik reached to scratch her ears as he moved to unlock the door. She butted his hand with her head; and before he knew it, he had picked her up and was cradling her up to his face. She purred, the vibrations tickling his chin where it was nestled near her belly. Her scent was familiar and warm, the smell of home. One paw curled against the back of his neck as she licked near his ear. “How could you manage so long without me?"
“I don’t know,” Korik sighed, shaking his head. His eyes burned with tears. He might have cuddled the cat for longer if left to his own devices; but at his feet, K’lir meowed in jealousy and batted at the leg of his trousers, trying to crawl back up to his coveted spot. He managed a laugh and released Roz, wiping his eyes with one hand while he reached down with the other to pat K’lir in a soothing motion. “Alright, alright. Let’s get inside.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Varen
Korikwasgoingtoleave Drol Kuggradh.
The realization had hit him like a thunderbolt at first, but now Varen only felt numb. Everything he had hoped for—the time to make things right with the orc—was crumbling in his hands, and now, he didn’t know what he would do.
After confronting Korik in the tower, somehow he had ended up in the barracks, making sure Lyielle and Taneas had a place to settle in. They asked if he would join them for dinner, and he had absently agreed. He’d found his way to his room and was now lying listlessly on his bed, looking up at the stone ceiling and desperately wishing he had not agreed to meet them. He didn’t want to see anyone—he wanted to curl up in his blankets and remain there forever.
But moping around and feeling sorry for himself would accomplish nothing. So he forced himself to wash and change into fresh clothes, meeting Lyielle and Taneas at the entrance to the barracks at the appointed time.
The younger scout was looking around with an obvious mixture of curiosity and anxiety at being in a new place. Lyielle, on the other hand, was everything he had tried to be when he’d first been promoted to commander. Stoic and calm, appearing all at once keenly observant, yet entirely unaffected by her surroundings. She came across as cool and collected, something Varen had never been able to get quite right—he wondered how she seemed so unflappable without being as outwardly unapproachable, or arrogant, as he’d always seemed to be.
“Commander,” she greeted politely as he approached, startling Taneas to attention.
“Hello, you two,” he said, as cheerily as he could manage. “No need for regular old mess hall fare while we’re in the city, hm? There are already a few elven restaurants, but if you like trying new things, I know a great orc place right nearby.”
Taneas and Lyielle shared a look. The ranger’s expression remained unchanged, but Taneas managed a slight, apprehensive smile.
“We trust your judgment, Commander,” Lyielle replied smoothly. Taneas nodded.
“Follow me, then,” Varen prompted, then stepped past them. “And we’re off duty. No need to be so formal.”
They followed him as he left the compound and emerged in the streets of Drol Kuggradh. Despite himself, Varen’s eyes darted between each building and tent they passed, wondering if perhaps Korik was nearby. He didn’t know where, exactly, his shop was—though he knew if he asked around, it couldn’t be too hard to find.
But he saw no sign of Korik, nor his shop, as they made the short trip to the dining hall a few streets away that Varen had grown familiar with over the past months. It served standard orc fare, but since it was so close to the castle, and the barracks that housed the elven military presence, the owners were on friendly terms with the elves. The orc couple and their young son welcomed all, and while it was still mostly orc patrons, it was not unusual to see one or two other groups of elves there—tonight was no exception.
“Welcome!” an orc woman’s voice came as they entered, speaking elvish. Varen managed a smile at Lavi, who ran the front of the restaurant; her husband Mul was the chef, but Varen had only ever seen him a few times. Her elvish, though stilted, was much improved compared to when the peace treaty was first enacted and so many elves migrated to the city—far superior to his orcish, though. “Sit where you like. Be right there.”
Varen led the other two to an empty table—only a few were left. Lyielle still looked completely unruffled, but Taneas was looking around with huge eyes and sat stiffly across from Varen.
