“Winter in Zor still looks the same as it did 30 years ago,
Anung. The bore worms are crawling on wet leaves, and
each night when the guards change post I take Ursula to the
sea gate to watch the traders load their freight – just like
we used to do. Remember?” Vorenus stared across the
castle moat as a raven landed nearby.

“I can’t believe this is the end, Vorenus. You will never
be a warrior, but you were a great king – a kind and
generous man, and I will remain by your side even after you
are discrowned.”

“I want to leave peacefully tonight with Ursula, and you won’t
be coming. Only in Zor could an orc soldier be accepted -
accepted because of who and not what you are. I won’t
take that away from you, and I will not have you risk your
hairy neck because of my poor choices.”

“You are like your father, Vorenus.” Anung lit a strange curvy pipe, filling the air with a sweet smelling smoke.

“Has it all been wasted time, Anny? Did I fail my father?”