The smell also took him off guard. It wasn’t as bad as he should have expected but having lived in modern suburbia most of his life he wasn’t used to the stench of orcs all living together without any kind of hygiene standards. He came to realise that Algra’s one bath per week was likely considered downright overindulgent to most of her race.


    For all that however it wasn’t so bad, smells of cooking meat and fresh beer often stifled out the fouler underlying odours. When he stepped inside the stone building he found more pleasant smells wafting through the air from burners around the hall. For it was indeed a great hall of the kind he’d seen in old medieval movies. Tworge tables dominated the room lined with orcs on each side eating and speaking of things in their oddnguage.


    At the opposite end of the room was the table presumably belonging to the Warchief where indeed an orc was seated. He was muscr even by the standards of his people and though he was seated Gregory wouldn’t have been surprised if he stood at well over nine feet in height. He was bald with pointed ears, one of which seemed to have been mauled in the past. A deep scar ran over his brow and down across his right eye. To Gregory’s horror, it seemed that this was the one that Algra was making a beeline toward.


    Unlike in the streets where they had gained nces and gawps from onlookers, here in the hall as Algra was spotted the orcs fellpletely silent. All eyes in the room turned to them as Gregory followed her between the tables toward the great orc who awaited them. He’d noticed them, his zing orange eyes focused on Algra and then shifted to Gregory.


    “You return.” The Warchief’s voice sounded like low rumbling thunder in the silent room.


    “I do.” Algra nodded.


    The sudden shift from orcish to anguage he recognised startled Gregory for it was clear that the great orc was speaking it for his benefit.Material ? N?velDrama.Org.


    “You have been long in your absence from this hall Algra Strongblood.” Apparently the Warchief was more fluent in thenguage than Algra.


    “I have.” She said.


    “Now as you return here with this ve you do not bow to me?”


    “I am not yours to bow to, great Grolfir.” Algra exined in a respectful tone.


    These words brought gasps and roars from the surrounding tables. Grolfir, for that was apparently the name of the Warchief, turned his attention to Gregory with a sharp gaze that seemed to burn right into the boy.


    “You imed Algra?” The tone of utter disbelief was almost humorousing from the massive creature.


    “Well she tried to im me and I won… so I guess…” Gregory started nervously.


    “I do not believe it. Algra, you will speak with me.” He turned and pointed at Gregory. “You shall be taken to the emissary until dawn.”


    “I am not yours Grolfir.” Algra’s tone had taken on a dangerous note of its own.


    “You are not…” The bellowing voice of the orc began as his eyes zed and his face contorted into a snarl. Gregory damn near soiled himself at the sudden outburst before Grolfir fell silent. “Human, will you allow me to speak with Algra alone?” His voice was calmer though his eyes still looked upon them like he wanted to strangle something.


    “If… um, I guess that’s alright if it’s ok with her.” Gregory spluttered before he looked to Algra for any sign of what he should say.


    Apparently this was enough as Algra bowed her head and Grolfir shoved his table away from his seat sending a few metal tes ttering to the floor before he stood up and stormed out of the hall. Algra bowed her head and began to follow. Suddenly Gregory found himself in charge of his own senses once again and he rushed up to her, catching her hand in his own. She stopped and turned to look at him.


    “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He re-affirmed. “I don’t really want to have that guy mad at me but I’m not going to sell you out just to get out of his re.”


    “I will be well master. Grolfir will not hurt me. Go to see the emissary. He may know of those you seek. I will return to you once my uncle and I have finished speaking.” With that she turned and walked down the aisle between the massive tables and disappeared out the door leaving Gregory dumbstruck.


    She was his niece!?


    – – – – –


    As it turned out, owning the niece of the n’s Warchief gave him quite a good deal of status in the orc camp. He tried to ask where he could find the emissary and was pointed to an orc with white hair and wrinkled skin who led him out of the great hall and through the camp. When he first spotted the humans and their circle of caravans it was a relief to see something in this world that was familiar. Though they dressed in mostly medieval clothes from linen tunics to the asional chain mail shirt they were undoubtedly members of his species. It seemed that Algra had been right about the emissary and the traders as he was taken through to see the voice of the human kingdoms to the orcs.