The Erlyid Empire

Sack scribbled "Hail Kingmaker!" on a scrap of parchment and held it up where Thend could see. The shaman raised his eyebrows and lifted his drink in ironic salute, but made no comment. He left soon after.

Towards dawn, the revelry began to die down, the more intelligent orcs retreating to sleep and many of the rowdier simply collapsing where they were. The king finally packed it in and turned in, appearing unaffected by the enormous amount of ale he'd quaffed, and a slave-goblin was summoned to direct the visitors to their quarters.

This individual, a miserable-looking little creature, conveyed them to one of the buildings in the upper- and inner-most circle of the fortress. Made of wood rather than the stone of the "palace", the place was dull and dingy, with half-a-dozen straw pallets forming the entire furnishings. Standing aside to allow them access with a sigh of envy, the goblin goggled up at Surya with a hopeful mien, obviously hoping for a tip at the sight of such magnificence. An armoured boot in the rear propelled him out, and the party settled in for the night.

They set watches, of course. On his watch, however, Sack slipped out into the fortress to do a little exploring. He confirmed his earlier impressions: the place was gearing up for war on a grand scale; and - just as its' King concealed his ablities behind a facade of boozy bonhomie - hidden by the distraction of its' primitive construction, Dun Tolk was a fortification of enormous strength, constructed by a mind of devilish cunning, and run with an efficiency far in excess of that possible for any normal orc.

Satisfied, Sack turned in.

Some hours later, an orcish female approached Surya as he stood guard, clearly bent on seducing what she expected to be a drunken man. Displeased at his refusal, she fled in horror on the suggestion that the Dwarf might be interested instead.

There were no further disturbances.

Tolk Fortress, Orc-land, 29^th June, 1601

The next morning was rather slow, with many orcs somewhat hungover. With their stronger constitutions - and the benefit of having been drinking something actually describable as beer - the heroes were feeling pretty well, though both Surya and Hansen had acquired fleas.

An orc-soldier lumbered up to them as they contemplated the slimey horse-trough that was their only hope of a wash. "King wants to see you. Now." he grunted, and turned away, clearly assuming they'd follow.

"Certainly", responded Surya, "we'll be here whenever he wants to come over." A look of bafflement spread over the orc's face. "No... you go to King," he managed. Surya looked at him, and realized that it just wasn't worth the effort. "Lead on," he said.

They found the King in his longhouse, meeting with his warlords. Quickly finishing his conversation with a courtesy masking the side-effect of denying the group knowldedge of what they discussed, Garkaur greeted them and asked their immediate plans. On hearing they were heading to the Empire, he wished them well on their journey, and handed them a dagger from his belt; well-made, it bore his insignia on the hilt, and would act as a passport with any of his vassals, he said. Bidding them farewell, he wished them a safe journey - by their real names. When asked how he'd known who they really were, he chuckled and said "A king needs his sources, especially when he's King of a people everyone else hates. I told you the Erlyid were training our best."

Outside, the travellers found that their acquanitance Hoshk - clearly confirmed in his abrupt promotion - was waiting with his patrol to guide them where they were going. He greeted them warmly, as the authors of his fortune, and proved a reasonable companion on the road during the days that followed.

Orc-land-Erlyid border, 4^th July, 1601

Five days took them to the edge of the orc lands, though there was little to mark it as such - a tumbled ruin of a tower was visible in the distance. Hoshk bade them farewell, grinning, and turning his wolf, rode away.

The next few days' travel saw the barren hills of Orcland give way to the fertile fields and well-tilled vinyards of northern Erlyid. Little villages passed by, well-ordered and constructed of pale stone with tiled rooves. The weather grew steadily warmer, until the heavy armour of Surya and Hildraft began to become uncomfortable.

They struck a road, and followed it, marvelling, for it was unlike any road they'd ever seen before; five paces wide, surfaced with pounded stone, well-drained, and edged with stone curbs.

A thought occurred to Sack, and, utilizing the Helm of Teleportation he'd selected from the dragon's trove on his last visit to Khundrukar, leaped back to Tolk for a final word with Garkaur. He caught the King at the warg stables in the outer circle of the dun, just about to mount up and ride out, and asked him for a letter of introduction to his ambassador at the Imperial Court. He produced one he'd draughted earlier, but Garkaur looked at it and said, "That won't do. Here-" grabbing it, he called one of his soldiers over, and drove a pen deep into the orc's arm. The orc didn't flinch, and Garkaur reversed the paper and scribbled for a few seconds in blood, dippling the pen twice more as he did so, before signing with a flourish. "There." he said. Sack thanked him, and Teleported back.

They stopped in one of these little towns, Surya, Hildraft and Hansen taking a table at a pleasant mixture of eating-house and inn called a taverna by the locals. The servingman treated them with exagerated courtesy, sending a slave to see to their horses, and serving a rich red wine quite unlike the elf-style white wine more commonly seen in the North as he helped them select from the dishes on offer. The food, when it arrived, was excellent.

As they relaxed, they watched the little market-place. The social stratification here was quite clear, and a little more rigid than in their own homelands. The stallholders and shoppers seemed to be largely of a general merchant class, with occasional member of what was clearly a higher ranking treated with considerable respect. Everyone of any standing or wherewithal had at least one slave with him or her, to carry and lift, and the more well-to-do had several. This struck strange to people from lands without slavery.

Orcs and half-orcs were present, though dressed and disposed in a far more civilized fashion than their "wild" brethren over the border. Even here, though, it was noticeable that these had not penetrated the uppermost levels of society.

Sack, meanwhile, had been doing some shopping, acquiring some local currencey and Erlyid clothes in order to enable him to blend in. This done, he joined his associates. The servingman bustled over, but unlike before, did not proffer a menu, simply presented a dish and poured a cup of wine for the half-orc. Sampling these, he discovered something he'd never even conceived; meals cooked explictitly for the slightly different half-orc biochemistry. It was delicious. Clearly, his species was a great bonus in attempts at being taken for a local.

Thornal, Erlyid Empire, 15^th July, 1601

And then one day they crested a hill, and it was there. Thornal! Greatest city in known Alair; the mother-city of the Erlyid Empire. It covered the land before them from horizon to horizon; fifty-foot walls rising from the fields surrounding it, a mighty river running through it. The walls had many gates, all turreted and bastioned with strength. Beyond, rising from the city, a second, inner set of walls could be seen, lower but equally strong.

Glittering towers and domes rose from the city, marking palaces and theatres and temples and academies; surrounding them was a thick mass of houses, shops, warehouses, businesses, all jostling and crowding into the space within the walls.

A dark, grim fortress outside the main walls appeared to be the main garrison, little less strong than the city itself.

Descending the hill, the travellers entered the city by the nearest gate, which bore an inscription in the High Erlyid; "Aurelian Gate". A bridge took them across the river into the city proper, and they found themselves in a welter of confusion. People of all races, colours and types swirled and bustled around them, humans and orcs and half-orcs and others they couldn't even identify. Animals of all shapes and sizes, some beasts of burden, some pets or exhibition animals, were here and there, and Billy the Bear received no attention at all; much less than his sentient compaions in their strange Northern attire.

Every so often, someone important wold pass by, their slaves brusquely clearing the way for them, a process which seemed to be accepted with little more than a shrug by the locals. Once, a party of strangely-garbed humans passed in such a fashion; pale and rather yellow in countenance, with slightly slanted eyes, some of them were swathed in gorgeous coloured silk robes, while others wore strange armour lacquered scales knotted together with cords. These last all bore two curved swords, one long and one short, similar to the Anahka-Dyvka carried by Kobort of Tusmit.

As they stood marvelling at this, Surya's attention was caught by a movement behind him, visible through the magic of the Robe of Eyes. He lunged, but was too slow; a brown streak of homespun and grubby flesh shot away, clutching his purse. Sack was closer, and just got a hand to the thief - a lad, he noticed - and snared him. The urchin struggled futilely for a moment, and then went still after a cuff from the half-orc.

He tried to brazen it out, claiming the purse was his, but Suyra told him it had his name inside, and the lad handed it back - though it hadn't - clearly he couldn't read. Interested, they offered him the chance to earn some of the coins from the purse. He was wary at first, clearly having had offers to earn money for unpalatable services before, but once it was explained that they wanted a local guide, was willing to help. Naming himself as Rolc, he guided them to a good rooming house.

There, they had to intercede with the host to prevent him bodily hurling Rolc out again, but soon got down to negotiations. The host was most glad to have them stay, hiring them the upper floor, stabling and meals included, for 15 golden sestertii a day; though he was quick to point out that their table didn't run to roast elk, or blood sausage, or haggis or a variety of other fanciful dishes he evidently expected barbarian lords from the North to request.

Upbraided at referring to them as "barbarians", he seemed honestly surprised; the phrase was a standard expression for non-citizens or foreigners, and not as derogatory as it would be elsewhere. He promised to call them something else in future.