3

VITAL INTEL

Elves.

On average, an elf had a life expectancy of around five hundred years.

Elves could mostly be found living in the forest regions of Vastonia, but they had also spread as far as the southeast and northwest. They prided themselves on ethnocentrism and exclusionism and were a very prideful people. They had always been quick to drive out any outsiders who strayed into their territory.

They had one of the smallest populations of all the races, and the typical elf boasted a very modest stature. They mostly fought using swords, bows, and arrows, as well as ice and wind magic. They were also extremely skilled at stealth, often hiding in plain sight. Furthermore, as a result of years of accumulated experience stemming from their extraordinarily long life spans, their ranks comprised many seasoned, legendary warriors, making them formidable opponents indeed.

Or at least that’s the impression their enemies formed about them during the long war.

At least on the surface, those surmises were basically correct.

But there was one key difference. A change had come over the elf race as of late. Their ethnocentrism, their disdain of other races. That was now a thing of the past.

After the long war ended, the elves wanted a new start, the same as everyone else.

They began interacting more with members of other races, particularly the humans and dwarves, who had been their allies during the conflict.

These newly cordial relations extended far beyond simple trade or tourism. The war had gone on so long that even the oldest of the elf race had still been born during the conflict. Even the venerable elders knew little of the world outside of wartime.

The general elf attitude could be succinctly summarized as: We live far longer than you; therefore, we’re smart, and you’re dumb. But when the war came, the elves began to lose confidence in their own superiority. They had to reevaluate their entire belief system.

Furthermore, the elves had lost all their old knowledge and culture during the war. Even their logs and records, representing their accumulated wisdom, had been destroyed by the ravages of war.

With little left to back up their claims of racial superiority, the most prideful and haughty elves had begun to quietly disappear.

And so now we come to the modern-day elf. He or she has abandoned the old elven legends and customs and is now entirely focused on fostering international relations with foreigners—and building a multicultural society out of their previously homogenous one.

It would have only taken about a thousand years for the elves to forge a new and unique culture and write new books on elf customs and history. Only another thousand years, and perhaps they could have rebuilt their reputation as a great race and regained their sense of pride. But the elves didn’t care to wait. They were eager to rebuild their war-ravaged country as soon as possible.

Now, what’s the one thing you need to rebuild a depleted country?

Most countries lacked that key ingredient at this moment in time, postwar. The elf race was no exception.

The key ingredient, of course, is population.

Thus came the baby boom. And as a prerequisite of that, a boom in the number of marriages.

It was the High Elves, the privileged class, who were the trendsetters here. The elf commoners, however, soon followed suit.

Get married. Have children young. Proliferate.

But the elf population, already modest in number, had suffered especially heavily from the war.

The repeated clashes with the succubus army were largely to blame for this. The male soldiers were almost completely annihilated, leaving mostly women to emerge from the long war as survivors. Now eligible young women were being squeezed out of the marriage market as a result of overwhelming demand for male partners.

If the elves were nonmonogamous like the dwarves, then perhaps this wouldn’t have been such a big issue. But elves tended to mate for life, forsaking all others in favor of their spouse. It was a vital aspect of the elf morality code.

So the Elf King, Leucanthemum, began heavily promoting a certain policy.

The Emergency Half-Elf Population Promotional Measure, as it was called, offered citizenship and subsidiaries to foreign men of other races if they came to marry elf women.

The combination of citizenship, financial support, and their pick of willing elf women proved a highly tempting package to foreign men. They came in droves.

The policy was an overwhelming success.

The humans, who had been particularly struck by the beauty of elf women in the war, were big adopters of the policy. Many a horny human male made his way to elf country, drool practically dripping down his chin at the prospect of marital joy with an elf maiden.

But some opposed the policy. What if the country ended up overrun by half-elf babies?

But the elf race was long-lived and patient. At some point down the line, the policy could be discontinued, and the half-elf offspring bred back with the pure, high elf racial line. If this was continued for a few generations, then all the non-elf blood could be bred out of the bloodline, and the elf race would be almost completely pure once more.

So now the elf country was awash with foreign men eager to find the best possible elf bride for themselves. It was a total buyer’s market, and many elf women were left on the sidelines or forced to compete against each other for the attention of a single man. There were wedding ceremonies being conducted left and right.

Who could have predicted that Bash would stumble into town right when foreign males were currently the hottest commodity around, with every elf woman desperate to lock one down in marriage?

Talk about serendipity.

“So you see, the elf country is in an interracial marriage frenzy right now! They’ve got more gorgeous, supple, willing elf women than you could shake a club at! Boss, if we can’t find you a suitable bride here, then I’ll eat my wings!”

“Great!”

Bash and Zell were engaged in an intense strategy meeting at their inn.

Bash had come to the elf country on Houston’s recommendation, more out of a lack of better options than anything else. But now he was really beginning to realize what a huge favor the human general had done for him.

Something had definitely felt strange the moment he walked into town.

As he made his way through the streets, he had felt like he was being watched.

Well, it was to be expected, wasn’t it? Orcs rarely made an appearance in the elf land. Some may have even jumped to the conclusion that he was a rogue orc.

So it was no surprise that Bash was immediately surrounded by soldiers and questioned. But they had backed down astonishingly quickly, saying things like: “Ah yes, he may be an orc, but he’s the same as any other traveler,” and “If Lady Sonia is willing to vouch for him, that’s good enough for us!”

That kind of thing would have been unthinkable were it not for the current, favorable situation.

Three years had already passed since the official end of the war, but the elves were notorious for being finicky and hard to deal with. Now they were being downright friendly.

Indeed, if this new school of thought had taken a foothold among the elves across the whole of elf territory, and not just in this town, then Bash would face no real impediments to his journey.

“But you know, elves and orcs have never gotten along. They’re like cats and dogs; they just don’t mesh. And I hate to say it, Boss, but even if there IS currently a trend for marrying foreign males, you won’t get anywhere if you go a-wooing just as you are.”

“I see what you mean. What should I do, then?”

“Oh, there’s plenty we can try. Generally speaking, though, you should behave as you did around the humans. Although elves are actually a lot more like us fairies. We both share a deep love for the forest, which loves us in return… We’re like the guardians of nature! So attuned to the world! So you’ve gotta show an appreciation for the elf ways, customs, and philosophy! And when it comes to splashing on the cologne, floral scents are an absolute must! Your clothing, too, should be on the modest side, without too much exposure! Elves only show skin in front of very, very special companions!”

Bash looked down at himself.

His attire was typical for an orc. So elves hated exposed skin, did they?

Zell was no doubt correct. Bash had to do what he could to minimize exposing his bare skin.

But then all of a sudden, his brain replayed a mental highlight reel of the exposed body parts and the sexy, revealing clothing of the three delectable elf maidens he’d encountered earlier.

So those elf women considered that nondescript human male to be a “very, very special companion,” did they?

Bash’s chest swelled with excitement. He felt ready to explode from the anticipation.

“Good stuff!”

“All right, let’s start by smartening you up a bit! Off to the tailor we go! Just leave it all to me! I’ve already used my research skills to find the best one!”

And so Bash allowed Zell to direct him straight to the tailor shop that was located not too far from their lodgings.

It really wasn’t too far at all. Actually, it was right next door.

Bash had to stoop down and twist a little to fit his bulk through the doorframe. As he straightened up again, he was impressed by the rows and racks of clothing on display. Such variety could not be found back in the old orc country.

The wares on offer were made up of mostly elven clothing in muted nature hues like dark green, light brown, and mustard yellow. There was also a range of human-style clothing on offer.

“Where do we even begin, huh, Boss?”

“I don’t know what’s considered fashionable when it comes to elven clothing. If you asked me to appraise elven armor for durability, that would be one thing, but this…?”

“Ah, but this shop is said to be frequented by many guests from other races! They have raiment and apparel for all! I’m certain they’ll have something that will bring out all your best features, Boss!”

It was just as Zell said. The shop had elven clothing in a wide range of sizes, to fit a variety of races from humans to dwarves.

Only there didn’t appear to be any orc-size clothes in stock.

The biggest size they had would only fit someone six foot five, at best.

“Pah! An orc!”

As Zell and Bash were absorbed in looking over the clothing, the shopkeeper emerged from the back.

He was a male elf of indeterminable age, wearing a wreath on his head that was made of flowers and leaves.

He took one look at Bash and immediately stiffened, on high alert.

“When I heard an orc had been given free access to the town by her ladyship herself, I was curious. But you’re just another one of those common green orcs. Well, Sonny, just you try causing any trouble in my store. I’ll have you know that during the war, I slayed a dozen orcs in these parts. A total bloodbath it was…”

Then the tailor trailed off, his eyes suddenly widening.

At the same time, he made a strangled sound in his throat.

“No…it couldn’t be!!! The reason her ladyship let you in to the town… Goodness!”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to. But I was indeed vouched for by a noble woman on the bridge into town.”

“Egad! To think that her ladyship should be so…undiscerning! So…accepting!”

The tailor shuddered for a moment, then was still. Finally, he sighed in a resigned sort of way.

“So what’s your business in my shop?”

“I’m here to purchase a new outfit. I heard that the elf race abhors revealing clothing.”

“We abhor what now? …Eh, whatever. We’ve nothing here that would fit a man of your stature. But wait… There may actually be one piece…”

The tailor looked Bash up and down, from the top of his swarthy green head to where his big feet stood slightly splayed upon the floor. Rubbing his chin, the tailor turned and disappeared into the back of the shop for a moment.

“This should just about fit you, I’d wager.”

The tailor returned, carrying a dark-green elven outfit with black piping detail.

It was clearly much, much larger than anything else on sale in the shop.

The tailor held up the outfit so Bash could see, stretching both arms out wide in order to do so. Now all that was visible of him were the tips of his fingers. The vast swath of cloth concealed almost all of the tailor from view.

“Beastkin man came through a while back, ordered this custom-made. But the ungrateful brute said he didn’t like the finished piece and left, taking his money with him. You’re a bit small for an orc, so it should fit you. Ah, sorry. Please, don’t get mad. I meant no offense. It’s just, you know, there’s an awful lot of orcs out there bigger than you, aren’t there? Facts are facts.”

“No offense taken.”

“R-right. Good man. Anyway, this is the suit for you. Why don’t you try it on?”

Bash obediently accepted the huge suit from the tailor.

Then, right there on the spot, he tugged off his orcish clothing and cast it aside, donning instead the fancy elf outfit.

He wasn’t used to such clothing, but he knew enough to figure out how to put this kind of outfit on.

Still, the suit had been tailored to a beastkin’s body. He was able to button it, but it was too tight around the shoulders and thighs. And far too short on the hems and cuffs.

“Ah…”

The tailor’s face fell. Guilt flooded his eyes.

This particular tailor came from a proud lineage of tailors stretching back several elven generations.

Seeing an outfit he himself had recommended fail to satisfy a customer’s needs… This caused a critical hit to the tailor’s sense of craftsmanship and pride in his work.

“I’ll adjust it…”

“Looking sharp, Boss! But then, you’d look good in anything! They say the clothes make the man, but I say they’ve got it the wrong way around! What a dapper fella you are! How suave, how sophisticated! You look like a seasoned and skilled man of the forest! Nay, a man of the bedchamber! Look alive, sweet elf maidens! The man of your dreams has finally arrived!”

The tailor’s words died on his lips as the hyperactive fairy accompanying the orc began giving his boss’s ego a good polishing.

After an outpouring of bootlicking and flattery like that, the tailor felt he could say no more about the suit.

“…You could be right, my flighty fairy friend. Your companion and my suit might actually be the perfect match.”

The tailor’s brows lowered, meeting in the middle. He was actually beginning to reevaluate the look, as well.

It was true that it was far too tight—and stretched out across the chest. But it made the orc appear much more put together than when he first entered the shop in that boorish, orcish attire.

And actually (although he’d never admit it), the tailor always thought there was something a bit weird about seeing a human or dwarf dressed in elf clothing.

This orc was no exception. You only ever saw orcs wearing their distinctive orcish gear, so of course he was going to look a bit strange in nice elf clothing. But that aside, he didn’t look bad, exactly. In fact, he looked rather cool.

Short sleeves and pant legs only exposed more of the orc’s rippling physique, and this effect was enhanced by the tightness of the shoulders and thighs. Rather than looking comical, the outfit served to highlight the admirable aspects of the orcish physique.

“Well, if you like it, then I’m glad.”

“Mm. I think I’ll take it.”

“Ah yes, well, as to payment. Now, how much to charge… Huh?”

Bash pulled a bundle from his belongings and held it out to the tailor.

Taking it and turning it over in his hands, the tailor curiously undid the ropes that bound it and opened it up.

It was a pelt. A pelt as big as the orc himself. No, even bigger.

The owner of this pelt must have been humongous in life. A fine specimen indeed.

“What’s this?”

“Bugbear pelt.”

“It’s simply splendid. Did you slay the beast yourself?”

“Yeah. Kept the pelt to remember a fallen comrade.”

“Are you sure you want to trade something so precious?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Bash frowned at the tailor, who stiffened.

The tailor couldn’t even begin to comprehend orcish values. Nor did he care to learn.

One was duty bound to associate with foreigners in this new and often confusing era. But that didn’t mean the tailor needed to go out of his way to learn the ins and outs of every race that came through town.

After all, he wasn’t the one who had to get married and shack up with these foreign brutes, now, was he?

“The pelt is splendid quality, to be sure. But there’s a huge rip in it, right here. It’ll be a simple barter, the outfit for this pelt. No cash back, got it?”

“Fine.”

Bash scooped up his orc clothes off the floor and exited the shop.

Now that he had the outfit he needed, there was no further business to be had with the fussy elf tailor.

No, his business was with the eligible elf maidens of Shiwanashi Forest Town.

“…”

The tailor watched as Bash stooped through the doorway and left the shop, a new swagger in his step. Somehow, the shop seemed quieter, more still, after he left.

With no other customers present, the orc’s visit had had a dreamlike quality to it. The only proof that his strange guest had even been there at all was the giant pelt spread across the counter.

“Darling, who was that just now?”

The tailor’s wife emerged from the back.

She was a young, nubile elf, too young to know the true horrors of war.

“Just a customer. Bit of a character, actually.”

“That’s not what I meant. He was an orc, wasn’t he? Did you know him?”

“Of course not. Not personally. But I do recall seeing him on the battlefield before. I think I’ll just let Aconitum know about it. I’ll be back soon.”

“What? Darling, wait!”

But the tailor was gone, exiting the shop with a spring in his step, in a state of high excitement.

Back at the inn, Bash began getting ready, per Zell’s instructions.

He took a bath. He put on the cologne provided by Zell. He changed into his new, smart outfit. He slicked back his hair with scented oil.

Bash had noticed that most of the elf men wore their long hair tied back, so he decided to attempt to copy their look.

But Bash’s hair was not all long. Most orcs kept their hair shorn short in wartime, and Bash, too, had always maintained a short cut, at least on the top. So there wasn’t much to slick back. Still, this was as close as Bash could get to copying the look.

Preparations complete, Bash headed to a meadow just outside town, where he gathered a bouquet of flowers that elf women were said to adore.

There. Now he was ready. The only thing left was to take the plunge.

Bash headed back into town, Zell following.

“Boss, it’s already in the bag! You’re as good as in! All you’ve gotta do is take your pick! Now, the elves prefer the direct approach, so you’ve got to engage ’em one-on-one, see? But don’t go bellowing, now. If you raise your deep, orcish voice, you’ll only make ’em skittish. Pick a suitable target when she’s by herself and go strike up a friendly conversation!”

“All right.”

It was already sundown.

All the day laborers were heading home right around this time.

There seemed to be a lot of soldiers among those trickling back into town, even though the war had ended. Many of the elves passing through the town were clad in armor and walking in formation.

Bash didn’t really care about his future bride’s profession, though.

Yes, the orc people would be more excited if their wartime hero, Bash, took an elven warrior maiden as his wife. But personally, this wasn’t actually a big deal in Bash’s eyes.

Really, any profession would do.

His future bride could be unemployed, for all he cared.

As long as she was willing to become his wife, he didn’t mind at all. If he could mate with her and relieve himself of the burden of his virginity, that would be more than splendid enough. Anyone would do. He just didn’t want to turn into a mage. Anything but that.

Besides, almost all elf women were beauties. There was no need for Bash to be picky. He’d be happy choosing one at random off the street.

At any rate, with so many of them around, surely he’d find success with at least one?

“All right. That one.”

Bash quickly homed in on one of the women who was walking alone.

His pick was tall, with golden shoulder-length hair worn in a ponytail. She was dressed in the distinctive red-leather armor of the elves and carried a bow in her hand. A quiver of arrows was slung across her back. There was a fairly large burn scar on one side of her face, but Bash hardly noticed it.

Her expression was weary as she made her way through town, but she had a kind face.

Bash felt his heart leap. Yes, she might be a good candidate.

“Excuse me, you there.”

“…Wh-what? Huh? An orc?”

The elf woman stiffened as she turned and saw Bash. Her grip tightened on the bow, and her brows drew together in a frown.

Then, as she took in Bash’s strained smile, dapper outfit, slicked-back hair, and the trembling bouquet of flowers he clutched in one meaty fist, her eyebrows shot right up again.

She realized, at once, what he wanted.

“Ah, um… So I’m here to…”

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Orc! I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you right there! I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept!”

The elf maiden shook her head and held up her hand, palm forward, cutting Bash off midsentence.

Her expression was what you might call smug. Bash was charmed, of course. But any female elves in the vicinity who caught a glimpse of that smirk would be incensed and immediately fantasize about punching her. Her little half smile and slightly raised eyebrow had big Poor me! It’s so hard being this beautiful! energy.

“Hmm.”

“Oh, but don’t get me wrong! You’re very nice, Mr. Orc! But take a look at this!”

The elf gestured toward her own head as Bash looked down at her mutely.

She wore a white flower in her hair. Bash recalled seeing that same type of flower blooming in the meadow where he’d gathered his bouquet.

“I guess you don’t know, Mr. Orc, but engaged elves all wear white lilies in their hair! And married elves wear white flowers, too. Not lilies, though. It’s sort of like how humans have that custom of wearing rings on the third finger of their left hand so everybody knows, you know?”

Bash looked around. Sure enough, around half the female elves in the vicinity appeared to be wearing white flowers in their hair.

Either as a single bloom, a flower crown, or woven into braids.

Casting his mind back to his altercation with the three sultry elf maidens from earlier, Bash suddenly recalled that none of them had been wearing a white flower.

“I don’t know what kinda ladies you orcs are usually into, but I’m real flattered you approached me, Mr. Orc! Thanks for taking notice of little old me, heh!”

“…”

“You know, up until a few days ago, I’d still have been a free woman. I might even have been open to getting hitched to an orc. But just the other day, I finally, finally got my wish! I got engaged! So you see, Mr. Orc, I can’t possibly accept your proposal. I hope you understand.”

“…I do.”

Bash nodded politely and turned to leave. The elf’s jaw dropped in surprise to see him give up so easily.

“Wow, Mr. Orc, you’re super reasonable! I heard that once an orc sets his sights on a woman, nothing can be done to dissuade him!”

“The Orc King has forbidden nonconsensual mating.”

“Oh, I see. So refusing to give up on pursuing a woman, that’s also outlawed for you orcs now?”

“That’s the same thing…isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. You’re right. Wow, Mr. Orc. You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?”

The elf woman bobbed her head in approval.

Before her own desperate marriage search had been successfully concluded, she would have been a lot more hostile toward Bash upon hearing this claim. Who can trust the word of an orc? she might have cried. Think you can fool me?! I’ll kill you! she might have yelled.

But no longer. Now she was a new woman. And much, much nicer.

After all, she was already engaged. She was one of the lucky ones. So she could afford to be a bit magnanimous.

As a winner in life, she was filled with good will toward all.

And she was a pretty kind person in general as well. Kind enough to go the extra mile to help a complete stranger, even if he was an orc, for no personal gain at all.

“Know what, Mr. Orc? Let me give you a tip.”

“A tip?”

“If you want to find a partner, just follow this street until you reach a tavern. It’s called the Great Eagle’s Perch. That’s where all the unmarried folk gather to mingle and try to find a partner. The clientele is…I mean…by this point, it’s mostly just women who’ve failed to find a decent man. Lot of emotional baggage, you know? But anyway, if you go there, you might just find someone desperate enough! Just like I was!”

“Okay. Thank you for the helpful tip.”

“Don’t mention it! Anyway, I’ve gotta run! Hubby awaits!”

Then the elf hurried off, ponytail bobbing jauntily behind her.

As Bash watched, she suddenly skipped, knocking the heels of her boots together in midair, clearly in the highest of high spirits.

“Did you catch that?”

“Sure did, Boss! Loud and clear!”

Bash turned to face his fairy companion as the elf woman disappeared down a side street.

Bash’s first pickup attempt had been a swing and a miss, but he’d managed to get two extremely vital pieces of information.

First, he’d learned that if an elf woman wore white flowers in her hair, he shouldn’t waste his time trying to pursue her. This would vastly increase his chances of success—or at least save time that would have otherwise been spent approaching taken women.

The second thing he learned was where he ought to go to find a large concentration of women looking for marriage partners.

If he hit up this tavern the elf woman had spoken of, then it would only be a matter of time before he himself was engaged to a lovely elven maiden.

It was basic supply and demand, wasn’t it? Bash wanted an elf wife. And the elves who frequented this tavern wanted husbands, elf or not. Bash fit the bill, didn’t he?

Being an orc was a point against Bash to be sure. But the elf race was crazy for interracial marriage right now.

They were getting together with humans, with beastkin, and even with dwarves, which the elf race had always somewhat abhorred, allies though they were.

Bash didn’t mind his chances.

“Let’s move.”

Their destination? The Great Eagle’s Perch.

Bash steeled himself. He was going into battle.

The elf turned around.

She was watching Bash as he strode off in the direction of the tavern.

So he was taking her advice, and he wasn’t wasting any time about it. He was heading to the Great Eagle’s Perch.

“Weird. Everything I’ve heard about orcs suggests that they drag off any woman who catches their eye, to debase and defile. I guess some of them have started to embrace the values of other cultures.”

She had fought against the succubus army until the very end of the war, so she hadn’t encountered any orcs on the battlefield at all, really.

Maybe she’d caught a glimpse of one or two, once or twice, during major battles. But never up close. Everything she knew about the orc race came from secondhand sources.

They were rough, savage beasts who treated women like livestock.

But this orc she’d just spoken to seemed completely different from what she’d always imagined.

“Huh. I guess anyone can change if they make a genuine effort. I mean, look how I turned out…”

Her name was Azalea.

Bash and Zell had no idea, of course, but she was actually quite notorious for being a bloodthirsty maniac on the battlefield. She had a reputation known throughout the elf land.

Her penchant for ripping off the tails of succubi while laughing hysterically had earned her the title of Azalea the Hyena.

Her brutal nature and relentless pursuit of her enemy resulted in her name striking fear into the hearts of the succubus army. By the end of the war, she had racked up thousands of kills.

Up until a few days ago, she had been a battle-scarred ex-fighter, desperately searching for a husband with her bloodshot eyes and a sense of heavy desperation.

She was like a starving beast, deprived of prey.

Her signature move was to grab a prospective male partner by the throat, lift him into the air, and menace him with the suggestion of marriage. She called it the Husband Choker.

Her success rate, as you may have guessed, was zero.

Her old war buddies, a group of female elves with whom she went way back, often made jokes about her lack of appeal. “Azalea, married? Ha-ha-ha! No way! She’ll be the last of any of us to wear a white flower, mark my words!” But still, Azalea applied herself relentlessly to the pursuit of a husband.

Then, when news of Azalea’s impending nuptials reached them, they were so shocked that they devolved into screams of jealousy and indignation.

“Heh. Good for you, Mr. Orc. I hope you find yourself someone nice, just like I found my darling hubby.”

Yes, Azalea had really changed since getting herself a man.

She had regained the modicum of sophistication that had been stolen away by the long years of war. She found that she could smile and laugh again.

She’d stopped sitting cross-legged, stopped scratching at her crotch, and stopped making obnoxious smacking noises while she ate.

She had even stopped purposefully picking fights with random people. And even when she was challenged by someone else and had no choice but to use her fists, she refrained from knocking out every single one of her opponent’s teeth, as she used to so love doing.

She had gone from being a savage beast of the battlefield to an ordinary elf again.

And it was all thanks to the love of a good man.

Quietly, the elf people offered up silent thanks toward this hapless individual who had performed the ultimate sacrifice.

“All right, enough dawdling! It’s time to head back and enjoy some more of hubby’s home cooking!”

Grinning, Azalea continued on her way, already salivating at the prospect.