Page 79 of Steel & Thunder
“What are you talking about?” Is he high? “Why wouldn’t you call yourselves orcs?”
“Because that is not a word that exists in our language.” He pauses for a moment. “Think about the humans who live in the area. Not those who have migrated from your part of the world, but the humans already here. It is likely that most of them have never heard a single word spoken in Common, so ‘human’ means nothing to them. Why would it?”
“I’ve...never thought about that before.” Does that mean elves don’t call themselves elves? “What do you call yourselves, then?”
“A’tahsaya.” At least that’s easier to pronounce than the name of the city, barely. “It translates literally to ‘the noble uniters.’”
“Huh.” I sit in my seat a little dumbfounded. “So I’ve spent the last week thinking everyone was speaking a different language. Wait, does that mean it’s wrong to call you orcs?”
“No, it is just a translation.” He correctly takes my confused face to mean he should continue explaining. “Take my title, for example. In Atasi, we have no word for ‘captain’ or ‘deputy,’ but the positions we hold are close enough that it is simpler to use those terms when speaking in Common than force a direct translation. That has been the case with most of the names for things I have told you. Take our small bout of confusion with the term ‘labor camp.’” My head shoots up at the mention, eyes wide. “Exactly. Though I think I will be petitioning the council about changing that particular phrase. A lighter example: what did I tell you our word for ‘paperwork’ meant?” I can’t hold in the giggle as I recall ‘sad wood.’ “You can see why it makes more sense to simply call it ‘paperwork.’”
“Yeah, I think I get it.” I look down at the book in my lap. Languages are complicated. “Wait, how do I even know the orcs where I come from call themselves orcs?”
“I am not sure. The only other group of orcs I really have knowledge about live far west of here. They use a similar name and language as we do, but even those are not exactly the same.” He pauses for a moment. “Do you know who we could ask?” I shake my head no. “Our favorite legal advocate.”
“Well, we’re definitely not doing that.” I’d rather memorize this book front to back. “Why would he know?”
“He is originally from Grimmlaand.” Grimmlaand is a country not that far from home, located on the mainland southeast of Inisfalia and Albion. Despite its name, it is by all accounts a beautiful country blanketed in forests and lakes with rivers that stretch for miles. I know there are orcs living there, but big cities of any kind are few and far between.
A lot of wonderful scenery but not a lot of centralized government means attempted invasions aren’t uncommon, but all the rough and unkempt woodland terrain is the perfect defense. Their neighbors to the south, the Empire of Roma Alba, tried and failed more than once. Of course, that led to Roma Alba joining with Albion to form the Holy Albion Empire and start what feels like a perpetual holy land war, but that’s exactly why my group went west across the ocean and far away from all that crap.
“He’s not from here?” I knew I heard an accent on him.
“No, he moved to Tah’lj early last year. I assumed the red hair would have given it away.” I guess I never considered that orcs in different parts of the world might vary in appearance the same way humans and other races do. “Most of us here have black or brown hair. There is also a slight blue tinge to his complexion.”
“I had no idea. Still don’t want to ask him for anything.” I will admit it is mildly interesting. “So what’s the word around here for humans?”
“That depends on who you ask. There are over a dozen languages spoken along the eastern coastline alone.” I roll my eyes. We get it—you’re smart. “In Atasi, the word is ‘ni’pak.‘ It means ‘hairless one.’”
“We are not hairless,” I scoff, dropping the book in my lap. “Are all your words for non-orcs just descriptive insults?”
“Only the ones for humans,” he jokes, smirking. “Our language has a tendency to be oddly descriptive like that.”
“And I suppose the fact that you use the borderline frightening direct translations of your last names is purely coincidental and not something you take advantage of to intimidate outsiders?” Not that I blame them; if my last name translated to something like ‘Firesword’ or ‘Godkiller’ in another language, I’d use it too.
“They do not all translate like that.” He doesn’t deny it though. “That is quite the charge coming from the people who literally named their language ‘Common.’”
“Hey, I didn’t get to pick out what it’s called!” I definitely wouldn’t have gone with ‘Common’ if I had. “Besides, elves speak it just as much as we do.”
“Yet somehow elves manage to be much less obnoxious about expecting everyone else around them to also speak it.” He smirks, and I stick my tongue out in response. I’ll show him obnoxious. “Now, concerning your duties when in the field. As I said before you have no actual authority on your own, but during the course of an investigation, you will be able to help me with things like conducting searches or questioning a witness. Should the need arise, you will also help me to defend against any would-be attackers or subdue individuals being detained.”
“Gotcha.” I nod and stare at the book in my lap.
“Is it learning a new language that is bothering you, or are you nervous because you have not done work like this before?” Khazak asks, noticing my lack of enthusiasm.
“Actually...this is a lot like what I used to do.” I scratch the back of my head. I guess it’s time to talk about it. “Not all the time, but enough.”
“You know, you have mentioned this academy you attended several times but not exactly what you did there.” He sits back in his seat. “Enlighten me.”
“I already told you that it was essentially a pre-military school. The Northlake Academy of Knighthood.” I start thinking back to the years of training and drills. “The idea was that you’d go there for a few years, graduate and become a knight, then get shipped off to some outpost somewhere. You make a big name for yourself while you’re out there, come back, and get treated like a hero.”
“And that is what you were going to do?” he asks from across the desk.
“That was the plan.” I shrug. “I was never crazy about it. When I was little, I was raised on these epic stories of knights and heroes, good versus evil. But the world isn’t like that. I’m not sure it ever was.”
“I imagine there would be a lot of pressure in having to live up to something like that,” he sympathizes.
“No kidding.” I sigh. “Most of what we did was practice drills and take a lot of history classes. But sometimes we would get called into town to act as guards or police, like if there was a public event or holiday. Our authority wasn’t very well defined though. At any given time, we had exactly as much power as the people in charge of us decided we would have.”
