“Alvrik,” Harruq muttered as he approached the giant double doors leading into the castle, which were flanked on each side by two soldiers. “Avrik? Alrik? Avlerik? How the bloody abyss did he say his name?”
He stopped when he realized the soldiers were staring at him with none-too-happy looks on their faces.
“Oh, hello,” he said, doing his best to smile. “I was looking for, er, Alvrik. He was just in the center of town, and...”
“Does the orcie want some money?” one of the guards asked. He jabbed his elbow into the soldier next to him as both laughed in Harruq's face.
“Just want some work,” he grumbled, his deep voice almost impossible to understand.
“Head around back,” one told him. “Alvrik will be waiting.”
“That'd be west,” said the same rude guard. “You know which way west is, right?”
Harruq's hands opened and closed as he imagined his swords within them, ready to butcher for blood while the soldier proceeded to say the word ‘west’ as long and drawn out as possible.
“Thanks,” he mumbled and hurried off.
Accompanied by a young man scribbling on a sheet of parchment, Alvrik sat at a small table in front of a group of people waiting in line to address him. Harruq slipped into the back and tried to calm down. Never before had he done anything like this. He had stolen food, fled from guards, lived in poverty, and kept to himself. For he and his brother, that was life. What the abyss was he doing asking for work?
A swelling of nerves in his gut almost forced him to leave. Several men in front of him turned away, dejected or angry. He didn't hear the reasons why and didn't want to know. The idea of so much money, more than enough to buy warm food and clean drink, kept him there. At last it was his turn, and he approached the table where Alvrik sat chewing on a piece of bone long since void of meat.
“You,” he said before Harruq could mutter a word. “You don't look like all the others.”
“I'm not like the others.”
“That so?” Alvrik’s face hadn’t changed in the slightest. “Tell me why.”
“Stronger,” he said. “Tougher. Whatever work you got two men doing, I can do alone. Whatever hours you got them working, I can do double.”
“A large boast,” Alvrik said. He took the bone out of his mouth and pointed at Harruq's ears. “You got orc blood in you.”
“I do.”
“Will that be a problem?” Alvrik asked.
“Up to all the others you hire,” Harruq said. “But I'll be fine. I don't start much, but I always finish.”
Alvrik laughed. He nudged the man next to him, who grabbed the quill.
“Give me your name,” he asked, dabbing the tip into the ink.
“Harruq,” he said. “Harruq Tun.”
“Well, Harruq,” Alvrik said, slowly nodding his head. “I'll see you right here at sunrise tomorrow. Got that?”
Harruq grinned ear to ear, even his nervousness unable to diminish his excitement.
“I'll be here before the rooster knows it’s dawn.”
A sharp pain in his gut dragged Harruq from his dreams. He lifted open a single eye and glared at the blurry image of his brother.
“The sun is almost up,” Qurrah said, kicking him again. “You need to be as well.”
“What are you...awww, damn it.”
He sat up straight and shook his head, trying to clear the fuzz that clogged the vast empty space between his ears. Qurrah helped by offering a third kick, this one right to the kidney. Harruq gasped and staggered to his feet. He was outside their little home in seconds, urinating on the grass.
“Hadn't pissed yet,” Harruq shouted to his brother. “You could be a bit kinder, you know.”
“At least you're awake,” Qurrah said back. “Now get to the castle. I may not approve, and I still don’t trust them, but for once we might have something worthwhile to eat. I won't let a simple thing like sleep keep us from it.”