Chapter 7

  Oakreach

  We reached the town several hours later. It was a very typical medieval town, with thatched roofs and cobbled paths. It… okay, hang the fuck on. In the centre of the town was an enormous tower, at least twice as tall as any of the trees I’d cut down. The thing was made of black stone that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. There wasn’t a single damn window at any point across its entire surface.

  I could think of several metaphors to describe it, but even I wouldn’t sink that low.

  “What the hell is that thing?” I asked, dumbstruck. It seemed to openly defy the entire medieval aesthetic that the world was apparently going for.

  Rel looked at me. He looked at the tower. He looked back at me.

  “My best guess is that it’s some sort of tower,” he said.

  I sighed.

  We spent a little time exploring the town, trying to get the lay of the land. It was a busy place, with bustling streets and heaving shops.

  If I’d not spent the last three months with a talking squirrel, I might’ve been a little overwhelmed when first encountering the inhabitants of the town. Thankfully, my tolerance for things new and strange was fairly well-developed by this point.

  The most common… species… was what I would categorise as an orc. You know – tall, powerful, green skin, little tusks protruding from either side of their mouths. I have to say though, they were very stylish individuals.

  “Nice clothes,” I said to one as he passed, flashing him a smile that was meant to say ‘I’m not weird. Promise.’

  The orc gave me a disturbed look, grunted what might have been ‘thanks’ in a deep, rumbly voice, and then started walking a little more quickly, casting more than one nervous glance over his shoulder.

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  “Strange behaviour…,” muttered Rel, watching the retreating form of the orc disappear into a crowd of shoppers.

  “I know!” I said. “Some people really don’t know how to take a compliment.”

  “I don’t mean him, moron,” sighed Rel. “I’m talking about you. Who goes up to a random person on the street, flashes them a creepy smile, and then says ‘nice clothes’. He probably thought you were going to abduct him. Besides, you only said that because his outfit is essentially identical to yours.”

  I felt my face grow red.

  Rel would rue those words one day. If I accomplished anything in this weird alien world, it would be to make peasant-chique a thing.

  As well as the orcs, there were a variety of other species. Some tall, some short. Some big, some small. There were people with scales, people with fur, people with skin, people whose bodies seemed to be made of rock or metal.

  Some individuals stood out more than others. They had nothing in common in terms of their appearance; it was more the way they carried themselves. Rude. Arrogant. Superior. These tended to be the ones who wore elaborate armour and carried enormous weapons.

  Honestly, I think they were probably compensating for something.

  All in all, it was a pretty interesting place.

  “Right, most important business first,” I said.

  “Food? Rest? Information?” asked Rel.

  “No, I need to find someone who can repair my shirt. That dick with the sword ruined it,” I grumbled.

  Rel groaned but said nothing as I led him to a shop I’d noticed during our exploration. It had a wooden sign hanging over the door with a painting of a pair of scissors. When we stepped inside, the orc behind the counter greeted us with a warm smile.

  “Welcome,” he said. “I’m Grenthil, and I’d be delighted to help you with any of your tailoring needs.”

  The orc ran his eyes over my outfit.

  “Perhaps something a little more elegant and sophisticated for you, sir? I can have you looking like a dashing gentleman in no time!”

  He looked confused when Rel burst into fits of laughter.

  The little shit.

  I shot Rel a dirty look and then turned back to the orc.

  “Maybe next time,” I said, then gestured to the tear in my shirt. “Some asshole ruined my shirt, and I either need to get it repaired or buy a new one.”

  “Of course, sir,” said the orc. “I can repair your shirt for three copper or sell you a new one for two silver. What would you prefer?”

  Oh. Shit.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Well, actually…” I said, looking down at Rel for support. He was still rolling on the floor, gasping for air between bouts of side-splitting laughter. Great. “We’re new here, you see, and we don’t actually have any money…”

  The orc’s practised smile dropped faster than a lead balloon.

  “This is a place of business, sir, not a charity! If you have no money to spend, I insist that you leave my shop at once!”

  He ushered us out of the store, mumbling under his breath about ‘time wasters’ and ‘tourists’ as he slammed the door behind us.

  “Okay,” I said. “New priority… earning some money.”