Tirio got up the next morning. Sneak out of the bed so you don't wake up Carandra. He put on his clothes and quietly descended himself into his preparation room. In the middle of this dimly lit room was a decorative shelf on which his armor was propped up. The heavy silver armor and their golden lining glistened in the morning light, but it certainly couldn't cover the countless holes and dents on it. The scars of the battle, he considered carefully. If he had been an unprudent man in the past years, any deeper hole would have indicated a fatal wound. He secretly hoped that no matter what misfortune came, his luck would still be maintained.

As silent as possible, he slid on his armor with swift movements, one at a time, fastened in place and buckled. When he was done, he stood in front of a life-size mirror and examined himself. He looked almost the same as he had always dressed, except that there was a little more gray hair around his tired face. He was amazed at how well the resuit still fit after all these years. He had to admit that every time he put on this armor, he felt like he was immortal. But this is what young people think. No one is invincible. No one lives forever, he thought sternly.

Walking past the stone fireplace in the wall opposite the house, Tirio reached for his trusty hammer, which was placed on the oak mantelpiece. The familiar heavy feeling of the hammer is comfortable to hold in your hand. The sacred runes etched into the hammer's head shone like they always did.

"Whatever your luck, I hope I won't need your strength today, old man," he whispered. He took the hammer under his arm, and strode towards the castle stables.

When Tirio had finished saddle Milada, the sun was just shining on the peaks of the Alterac Mountains in the distance. He hung the hammer from the bridle of the saddle and prepared to mount the experienced warhorse. He put his foot on the stirrup, and then he grunted in pain. His ribs were still hurting, and the heavy armor was too hard for him to pull up the weight of his whole body.

"Can you tell me what are you doing?" A suspicious question came from the dimly lit entrance to the stables. Tirio lowered his feet from his stirrups and turned to face Arton. The captain of the guard's face was firm and engraving.

"I'm going to investigate the ruins of that tower. If the orcs are planning to invade my land, then I will find the evidence on my own," Tirio said bluntly.

Arton nodded. "Okay. Then I'll go with you in the saddle. ”

"I don't want to be with my peers. I'll have to do it myself, Arton," Tirio said. There was a toughness in his voice, and the captain's concern became more apparent.

"I don't like that, Tirio. What the hell are you trying to be sure? Leaving without an escort, just now you-"

Tirio interrupted him. "What am I, Arton? Tirio asked passionately. Arton lowered his gaze and coped unnaturally. Tirio mounted his horse, exhaled deeply, and said briefly, "I'll be back in a few hours." Keep an eye out for Batheras after I'm gone. I had a feeling he was going to get into trouble. He thrust his spur into Mirada's side, speeding straight towards the edge of the forest in the distance.

Feeling more and more uneasy, Arton watched his lord gallop away and disappear into the distance. He kind of felt that Tirio hadn't told him everything.

Finding your way back to the Ruined Tower wasn't as easy a task as Tirio had thought. He spent hours walking around the mountain trails. The morning mist still clung to the earth and drifted along the winding path, but he could already make out the broken outline of the tower through the trees. As he approached, he slowed down to allow the horse to jog easily, picking up any sound signals of danger by hearing. It wasn't a wise move, he considered - approaching his enemy's camp without even a squire who could help. His horse's heavy warhorse-specific armor and his own glittering armor were enough to reveal his location to anyone within a few miles of him. Need to be more careful, he thought. After all, when he meets an orc, if the other party is not alone, he still has a good chance. But something in his guts told him that this was not the case. Something deep in his heart told him that he didn't need to be afraid. Cautiously thrown into the wind, Tirio boldly rode over and dismounted at the foundation of the tower. Looking up, he saw that the walls that had once been tall had collapsed inward. The structural damage to the tower was large, and he wondered how he had survived such a catastrophe. He looked around for signs of orcs. He didn't find anything. The tower appears to have been abandoned.

A low, throaty rumble caught his attention, and he turned to see the orc sitting on a large rock at the edge of the forest. The creature seemed calm and poised, but its tomahawk was within reach. At the same time, the creature was cautious, as Tirio himself thought. The Paladin, who valued honor, removed his helmet and placed it on the saddle bridge of Mirada's saddle. The horse snorted loudly, sensing the nervousness of its owner. Out of the corner of his eye, Tirio stared at the hammer strapped to the saddle, reaching for its handle. Immediately, the orc grabbed its axe. Tirio immediately retracted his hand and took a step back from the horse. The orc grunted softly, then relaxed. It grinned knowingly. Tirio took a deep breath and walked slowly towards the orc.

As he walked forward, he realized that he might have made a very harsh mistake with regard to this old orc. Maybe the creature would kill him eventually. Perhaps someone else unexpectedly saved him from the ruins of the tower. Maybe. But he had to find out somehow to make sure. He stopped, just a few paces away from the orc, and Tirio raised his fist in a salute to his heart. That's the orc salute, isn't it?

"That's what you humans do, right?" The orc asked in fluent language. Its voice was deep and rubbing like grit, but its pronunciation was surprisingly accurate. Tirio was stunned, his shock on his face. The orc's hideous appearance twisted, and in Tirio's guess, it was a grin.

"You...... Do you speak our language?" Tirio asked tremblingly.

The old orc glared at him sternly. "Do you think our people have lived in your world for so long and still only know how to use brute force?" It asked. "Your race always underestimates us. That's why you lost the First Great War, I think. ”

Tirio was amazed at the creature. There sat a dark thing - a sinful, murderous beast. But it speaks with a flexible mind and wisdom. The creature didn't rush up and tear open his heart, even though he had expected it. It basically sits, looking at him with its wisdom, knowing the eyes. Tirio shuddered, feeling both shocked and frustrated. Without thinking, he snapped out the question he had asked himself so many times: "I have to know." Did you pull me out of the tower and lead my horse back to the road? ”

The old orc stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "I did it," it said.

Tirio sighed sharply, "Why did you do that?" He asked. "We are enemies. ”

The orc seemed to have thought about it for a moment. "You value honor as a human being. It's clear from our fights. A warrior who does not value honor should die like an animal in a trap. I shouldn't have left you there like that," the orc finished. Tirio didn't know exactly what he wanted to hear, but he knew he was surprised by the answer. "Besides," the orc continued, "I've seen too much death in my life. ”

Tirio lowered his head, comprehending the orc's words in an inner struggle. I couldn't understand that, he thought. This creature is a wild man without mercy. How could he talk like that. But Tirio understood that the orc's voice was real. He could feel the sincerity of the orcs—and the pain and sorrow buried beneath the exterior. As a paladin, he has developed a specific ability to empathize with deep emotions from others. This incomprehensible ability has never been proven to be very useful. He pulled himself together, and then he said to the orc.

"I should thank you for that," Tirio began, wondering what to call the creature appropriately. Sensing Tirio's panic, the orc said. "I'm Itregg, human. You can call me Itriege. Relieved, Tirio replied, "Thank you, Itrieg. Thank you for saving my life. ”

The orc nodded again and stood up. Tirio noticed that the orc was visibly lame when he walked. He speculated that the moment he slashed the creature during the fight might have caused the infection. Without looking at Tirio again, the orc limped towards the Ruined Tower.

"I'm Tirioferdin," the paladin began. "I should tell you that I am the lord of this land, Itrieg, and that your presence has upset many people here, and I have entrusted them with the task of guarding this land. ”

The orc smiled softly. "I bet they slept fairly soundly until you found me," the orc said. "I've lived in these forests here for years, human. I moved from place to place, hiding everywhere, trying to find a place to live. I did a lot of work to evade your sentinels and your rangers. ”

When it comes to the latter, there is a clear tone of ridicule. Orcs are not known for their preference for High Elf rangers. The cunning, forest-roaming ranger vows revenge on the Horde after the Orcs destroy the High Elves' magically enhanced home, Quel'Thalas. Tirio wondered if Atreig was telling the truth. Can this orc remain undetected for so long?

Itreg snorted, "I'm so unlucky for you to meet me." ”

"Perhaps," Tirio began, "but your presence here has given me a very serious question. My people hate your race, Itrieg. All your people have brought to this land is misery and chaos. They will be very tempted to kill you, if they are able. In that case, how can I have mercy on you? How can I leave you behind? ”

"I've abandoned them, humans! I'm here in seclusion—in exile," Itreg said warily. "I no longer wish to pay for their sins. ”

"I don't understand," replied the paladin. "You're saying you've refused to accept your own compatriots?"

"My compatriots are lost!" Orcs speak ill of each other. "Truth be told, they were lost long before they came to this strange world. When the Horde finally falls before your banner, I have decided to leave it forever. ”

Itreig lowered herself and rolled up a large chunk of plaster from her side. Tirio was impressed by the power of the orcs. It was a stone that required the strength of two stout men to move. The orc motioned for Tirio to sit down, and then he sat cross-legged on the ground. Tirio sat on the flattened stucco.

"There's a lot you don't know about my people. Their honor and self-esteem left them a long time ago. After my sons were killed, I decided to terminate my duties to them," said Etrigyan.

"Your son is a warrior?" Tirio asked. Itreig scoffed.

"Orcs are all warriors, humans," he said, as if Tirio were brainless children. "We know very little about the rest. No matter how strong and valiant my sons were, they were betrayed by their own leaders. In the last battle, the chiefs of our clan fought each other in skirmishes. At the end of a rather bloody battle, my sons received orders to turn back from the front. One of our chief's opponents, wishing to advance his clan's position in the Horde, withdrew the order and sent my sons and their brothers back, only to be slaughtered. It was the dark days of our tribe......" Itreg said, lost in thought. "My dark days," he finished.

Tirio's mind spun. He was well aware of the fact that the orcs often fought each other on their own. But the sadness that came out of Itreg touched him. He had never imagined that such a treacherous act could affect an orc in such a way. (To be continued.) )