Chapter 6: Orcs and Words

Chapter 6:
Orcs and Words

 

THE WALLS OF THE CHAMBER that housed the massive magic circle were lined with twenty doors, spaced at regular intervals. These connected to rooms of various sizes, all of which presently served as break rooms for the priests. Long tables and many chairs had been brought into the largest of these rooms, so that it might function as a dining hall. Day and night, weary priests shuffled in, stuffed their faces, and left. Not a word would be spoken. In order to make food available at all times, the fortress’s kitchen worked around the clock.

At the back of the impromptu dining hall was a marble statue, so lifelike it looked like it might start moving at any second. The male figure’s features, attire, and accoutrements were carved in intricate detail, even giving a sense of the muscles beneath the cloth. Around his wrists were thirteen gold bands, making it clear he was someone of high standing. His belt buckle was shaped like the water dragon on the fortress’s sluice gate. The statue’s pedestal was blank, the man’s name lost to history. Perhaps when the statue had been carved, the man had been so well known there hadn’t seemed a need to label him. Now, though, the faded and peeling remnants of pigments only told a tale of glory long gone.

Behind the statue’s pedestal, a square panel was fitted into the wall where one of the many stone blocks had once been. Removing the panel revealed a tunnel so tight that an adult would barely be able to pass through it. This narrow passage went on too far for the feeble light of a lantern to illuminate its depth.

It took quite a bit of courage for me to enter it. If I were to get wedged inside or caught on something, trapped immobile in the darkness, my life would end in a drawn-out nightmare. I wished I had brought George with me, so that I could have tied a rope to myself and told him to haul me out if something went wrong.

Bringing him along would have been too risky, though. With all the priests gathered for the ceremony, the chance that someone might recognize him greatly increased. I wanted this endeavor to go unnoticed.

I looked around the room surreptitiously. Silent priests with haggard faces were bent over their humble meals, none of them seeming to pay me any mind. I found my resolve and slipped into the tunnel.

To my relief, I found the passage slowly widened the farther I crawled. Eventually, the ceiling was high enough for me to walk with a stoop. I pressed on, lighting my way with my lantern. The air was damp, reeking of mold. Occasionally, the plop of a water droplet would break the grim silence. After a few corners, I came to a chamber no larger than the interior of a shed.

On the far wall was a relief of a human face that reminded me of the Bocca della Verità from my own world. The inside of the uncanny face’s wide-open mouth was pitch-black, impenetrable even with the aid of my lantern. Tentatively, I inserted the tips of my fingers into the mouth and saw them immediately swallowed in what seemed to be a black mist. It was just as the sage had told me: this room was the work of the ancients with their magic.

This was one of the hidden rooms the scholars had found in their investigations of Dragonjaw Gate. “Finding No. 33, Chamber of the Dark God,” according to their reports, but nothing else had been noted besides this ominous piece of art. However, the room possessed one more secret that hadn’t been reported.

I stuck my entire arm into the hole, all the way up to the shoulder. Like the statue blocking the tunnel, the carving looked as if it were about to spring to life. Perhaps my arm would be bitten off. I held my fear in check and groped around within, my fingertips encountering a smooth sensation. Here it was: a stone sphere. After a bit more blind groping, I fitted the sphere in the palm of my hand, and then poured my mana into it.

As I did this, that black mist poured out of the relief’s mouth, and I lost my vision.

“Don’t panic, and don’t let go,” the sage had advised me. “If you do, you’ll be left behind in the dark, and you’ll never come back.”

He’d laughed when he’d said this, but his eyes had remained serious. I didn’t know if he’d just been teasing me, but I didn’t feel like finding out. After I’d poured forth quite a bit of mana, the inky mist began to thin out. It wasn’t too long before my vision returned, and once I could see again, the scenery had changed entirely.

 

***

 

“Since you’re going to Dragonjaw Gate, then, I have one request.”

“If it’s within my power.”

“Before I was exiled, I left my notes there.”

“Your notes? Why?”

“Fool! Don’t you get it? It’s my orcish dictionary. If I hadn’t concealed it, they would have burned it, so I hid away the copy that I had Potato make.”

“Potato?” I asked, confused.

“The name of the orc I kept! He loved steamed potatoes, okay? You don’t need to pick at every insignificant detail. Good grief, the time wasted in talking with fools!”

How was I not supposed to question a potato copying a dictionary?

“When I was a young scholar, my superiors always shoved dull research topics on me. Later, when I was advanced enough to choose my own research, my subordinates would come to me for help with their own dull pursuits. I discovered the hidden room’s secret around the time that I’d become fed up with it all. Instead of reporting my findings, I used the room as a hideout whenever idiots were looking for me.”

He then described to me where to find the entrance to the secret room, and what to do once there. Before I parted ways with the hermit, that exiled priest, I asked him what name I should address with him going forward.

“I am all out of names. I shed my birth name when I became a priest, and my priestly name was stripped from me.”

“Then I’ll call you ‘the sage.’”

The sage snorted. “Whatever.”

It was then that I left him, and soon enough I was steering Veralgon back to Dragonjaw Gate.

 

***

 

With the mist cleared, I saw I was in a completely different place from before. I removed my hand from the inky blackness of the dark god’s mouth, and sighed when I confirmed it was still in one piece.

The passageway through which I had entered the secret room was gone, and I now found myself standing in a larger chamber with a high ceiling. The first thing I noticed when I turned from the face on the wall was a well-lit stone bed. An ancient skeleton lay upon this faceup. Nearly all of its clothing had fallen into meager scraps, though various accessories of gold, silver, and copper remained. These were similar to the accoutrements portrayed on the statue in the dining hall. A decorative buckle, all that remained of a belt, bore the same water dragon crest. Was this the man who’d inspired the statue? If not, then a descendant, perhaps?

A discolored, human-shaped outline surrounded the skeleton, indicating the man had still had flesh when laid to rest here. Or had he lain down here himself? How had he reached his end? There was no way of knowing.

I saw no sign that the intact treasures he wore had been tampered with. The sage evidently had cared only for his research, not for riches. Or else, he’d had too much respect to desecrate this man’s corpse. That was the feeling I got, anyway. This body was meant to remain here undisturbed, the man kept at eternal rest. Almost all of this man’s world had fallen to pieces along with him. Shouldn’t I feel responsible for preserving those remains?

I shook off these heavy thoughts and looked around me, quickly spotting a small writing desk in a corner. It was wood, and not particularly old. Clearly, the sage had brought it himself, but how had he transported it? I could only imagine he’d taken it apart and reassembled it here. The thought of that man desperately dragging scraps of wood through that narrow corridor without being seen was somewhat amusing. He’d devoted himself to his research here, with no one—not even a sound—to disturb him. I could easily picture him bent over his desk in silence, with the skeleton as his only company. This image fit the old man perfectly.

I gently pulled open the desk’s drawer, finding nothing inside but a pen and dried inkwell. According to the sage, the documents were hidden in a secret compartment, a hiding spot within this hiding spot. How exciting. It was all enough to quicken a young child’s heart.

As instructed, I pressed my leg against the desk’s leg, grabbed the desktop, and slid it sideways. I then pulled it up and opened the drawer halfway. I lifted the desktop higher until it clicked and came completely free.

After placing the top to one side, I looked inside the desk to find a space that ran deeper than the drawer. Resting in this space was what I had come here for: a hefty book. Its cover was identical to that of the temple’s scriptures, but its contents were not. Certainly this had helped the old man disguise his work, but I thought it was also an expression of his defiant spirit.

I opened the book and flipped through it. Next to the written characters used by humanity in this world, which I had grown accustomed to seeing, were lines of bizarre text I had never seen before. This was the grand culmination of the sage’s research. A lexicon of orcish, camouflaged as scripture.

 

After retrieving the dictionary, I inserted my hand into the mouth of the face in the crypt and was transported back to the room beyond the dining hall. Having retraced my path through the tunnel, I sneaked out of the hole behind the statue, taking great care not to be seen. However, as I stepped out of the statue’s shadow, my eyes met with those of a priest eating at one of the tables. He was startled by my sudden appearance, but after shaking his weary head, returned to his meal.

I left the dining hall and entered the main chamber, where over a thousand priests mumbled their spells and injected their mana. It felt so noisy after spending time in that forgotten crypt. However, it was simultaneously comforting to be surrounded by the living. I had made it back from the world beyond, I myself, alive.

Carrying the faux scriptures under my arm, an innocent look on my face, I started crossing the chamber only to run into Worion, who was apparently making his rounds.

“Oh, Hero! I see you’re back already.”

“Yes, I was blessed with good winds. I’m sorry I haven’t dropped by to see you.”

Worion glanced at the tome I carried.

“How was it there? Did you find your writing teacher?”

“Yes, he’s quite the character. He transcribed these sacred texts and told me to use them to study the correct words and syntax and such.”

“I see. Very good…but that volume looks especially valuable. Take care not to lose it.”

I had the suspicion he already knew what was in the book.

“Of course. My teacher told me to bring it back without a scratch.”

“Incidentally, do you have paper already? You’ll need a lot for writing practice.”

“I was just about to arrange for some.”

“In that case, I’ll get you some of our stock. We should be able to spare a bundle for our hero.”

Worion called over one of the younger priests. Then, after assuring me the ceremony continued to go smoothly, he resumed making his rounds.

The boy priest told me, “I’ll show you to the storehouse. This way.”

It wasn’t long before I returned to the house where George awaited me, bearing a heavy bundle of paper.

“Welcome back, Hero,” George greeted me from the doorway. “Umm, what’s that?”

“We can talk later. Clear some space.”

The floor of the house was bare dirt. I had my reservations about placing valuable parchment directly upon it.

“Of course. Give me a moment.”

George called over the old housekeeper, and together they swiftly cleared the table of its plates and utensils.

With a little “heave-ho,” I deposited the paper and disguised book there. And now to…do what? Concerned for the book’s safety, I wanted to send it to the manor in Kadann Hill immediately, to be placed under heavy protection. Torson was trustworthy enough to handle that. However, I also wanted to make use of it first. On top of that, if it was possible, I wanted to have the contents copied so I would have a version for myself.

I reminded myself that I had permission to copy it, but I needed to take extra precautions to make sure it never reached the eyes of anyone who couldn’t be trusted.

“I don’t care if you copy my work,” the sage had told me, “but don’t trust another to do that, and don’t give your copy to a bookbinder. For the binding, I’ll introduce you to someone once I arrive there. This person’s blind, so he can bind any book without knowing its contents, as long as the pages are already ordered. Don’t reveal the book to anyone else! I know how idiots like you can barely control yourselves.”

I told the housekeeper to go take a break at the bar. After confirming the old lady had left with her coin purse, I called George over.

“George, can you keep a secret?”

“Yes, of course.” He gave me an odd look.

“Leaking this secret could prove fatal, so are you certain?”

“I swear to God I can. My life already belongs to you.”

“Even if it goes against God’s teachings?” I pressed.

That question took him by surprise. He seemed to process the import of my words, but he finally stood more upright, and firmly stated, “Yes, Hero.”

“Very good. Then I have one request. I want you to copy the contents of this book here. Have you ever done that before?” I asked, gingerly stroking the pages.

“Yes, copying the scriptures was part of my priestly training.”

His quizzical expression seemed to ask, What part of that goes against God’s teachings?

“Open it.”

I gestured toward the book on the table, and he opened its cover.

“Hero… I’ve never seen these letters. What are they?”

“You don’t need to know. All I can say is, it has to do with my work. In any case, I want you to copy all of it.”

“Understood.”

George wasn’t a fool. He likely had a vague idea of what this was. After all, he had closely witnessed my attempts to teach Johnny.

“Before you get to work, I need you to swear again that you’ll keep this a secret.”

I didn’t know how effective a vow would be to him, but it was better than nothing.

“Yes, I swear it not only to God, but on the name of my father. I will protect this secret.”

From what I’d heard from Thret, that man had been adored by his children, so I didn’t take George’s vow lightly.

During our exchange, Johnny shambled over. She noticed the open book on the table, gazed at its pages, and began jumping for joy. Early on, she—and I had to remind myself she was a she—had been so timid, but she had grown much more relaxed of late, so I could tell George had been quite welcoming to her.

George glanced at me to gauge my reaction. I gave him a nod, and he lifted Johnny higher so she could get a better look at the book.

To proceed, I was going to have to find an orc who could read. It would be so much easier if Johnny could read, but I didn’t have high hopes of that. What were the literacy rates of orcs, anyway? The orcs mostly fought with muskets—muzzle-loader guns. If their cultural development paralleled the advancements of my world, their literacy rates would still be relatively low. Additionally, the ones the humans captured were all farmers and soldiers, so it was unlikely she had received sufficient education.

I didn’t want to give in to pessimism about finding a literate orc. Surely their army’s high-ranking officers would be literate. And in any humble village, human or orcish, there always had to be one or two people who could read. There had to be an orc in captivity I could make use of… If only I knew—

Johnny was feverishly oinking at the book’s contents. She twisted her way out of George’s grasp, stole the ash-covered poker from beside the woodburning stove, and began scratching something into the dirt floor.

What? Could it be…?

I snatched up the book, searching for any symbols that resembled the ones Johnny had written. I flipped through page after page. The dictionary was ordered by human words, which had been written first, with the corresponding orc words gradually filled in later.

I scanned the entire book front to back before I was able to find the three symbols Johnny had written.

“I”

“Read”

“Words”

We’d already hit the jackpot.

 

Nearly two months had gone by since I’d acquired the orcish dictionary. The barrier ceremony had continued smoothly, and I would soon be freed from my monotonous position. Meanwhile, my lessons with Johnny proceeded at a rapid pace. Through learning their language, I was also gaining a bit of understanding about orcish society.

I had asked to Johnny write her true name. When I compared the words she’d written to the dictionary, I found hers corresponded to the human words for “white” and “flower.” A sweet, girly name. The letters she used were somewhat different from those in the book, but perhaps they were modified when used for proper names. I would need to ask the sage about that.

Nevertheless, I needed to change her name accordingly. I wasn’t someone who would arbitrarily come up with a demeaning name like “Potato.” However, it being impossible for me to match orcish pronunciation, I decided to go for something similar to what I’d decoded.

“Listen up. Your name is Lily. I’m going to call you Lily now.”

She just stared at me blankly. I pointed at her again and again, repeating, “Lily, Lily,” until finally she seemed to catch on. Thereafter, she responded to her new, more suitable name.

For one exercise, I flipped through the dictionary while asking her if there was anything in its pages she would like to have. She had progressed from writing on the dirt floor to writing on paper, so in small letters she meekly inked the word “clothes.” It was winter, after all, and quite cold, but I wondered if maybe it was also a matter of modesty, since she lived among clothed humans. I promptly asked the housekeeper to see about making her some clothing that would fit her orcish frame, and then continued with my questions.

From what I gleaned through piecing together her writing, she’d been the personal maid of a certain orcish noble. Unfortunately, while out patrolling their territory a few years prior, the noble she served along with her and the rest of the servants had been the victims of an out-of-season human attack, and they had all been captured. Those who’d attacked them had been dressed in white, undoubtedly the Knights Templar led by Princess Liana. Lily and her companions were soon taken to a slave market. She didn’t know the fate of the rest, but she herself was sold to the grain mill, where she had ultimately met me.

Beyond her personal history, I started to gain a bigger picture as well, and I soon feared humanity’s situation was more dire than I had imagined. The opponent we contended with was a single provincial lord of a massive orc empire made up of smaller states. The main state of this union possessed over three times the number of soldiers as the lord’s personal force, and with all their provinces taken together, that number would be increased tenfold.

Not to mention, there were numerous other orc countries outside of this empire.

With these facts before me, saving humanity by eliminating the orcs seemed but a naïve dream. The orcs saw the humans as troublesome beasts that had descended the mountains into their territory in the fall. They were left to roam free simply because it would be too much trouble to cross the mountains to hunt them all down.

Up to that point, I’d held to a vague idea of seizing victory in one great battle and using that victory as leverage for peaceful negotiations. In light of this information, it seemed that would prove difficult. Still, if we could defeat that one provincial lord, that would make the rest of the orcs take us seriously.

Meanwhile, I needed to somehow keep the humans in check, lest they stir up the hive too much, but how was I supposed to contain them when they headed out for their incursions come next fall? In the first place, their finances depended in no small part on plunder. It might’ve been a mistake to disperse the blockade with air raids. If the valley had remained sealed, it would have been impossible to send any more armies through. If we stopped this plundering, perhaps then the orcs would take a less hostile view toward us.

No, we couldn’t depend on them growing benevolent. They had tried to destroy Dragonjaw Gate with their massive cannons. If we didn’t use force against them preemptively, they would try to destroy the wall again. So what was I supposed to do? I was losing confidence in my ability to save this world.