Translator: Cinder Translations
...
The heavy snow fell all night, and at midnight, Stanford, worried about the reindeer freezing, had them brought inside. The orcs, on the other hand, were not overly concerned about their livestock, which were draped in thick blankets.
The next morning, the snow stopped, and walking in it reached up to half a calf.
After internal discussions, the exploration team overwhelmingly favored crossing the Rocky Mountains directly, and Stanford respected their decision.
An orc named Finn invited them to travel together; by following them, they could obtain provisions and rest at the tribes they would trade with.
"Although we don't know how to cross that mountain range, at least some of the tribes we go to occasionally have dwarves come over to trade. Perhaps you can talk to them..." The orc's suggestion touched Stanford.
After spending a night together, the exploration team had developed a preliminary trust with the orcs, so they followed behind the caravan heading south. During this time, Finn introduced Stanford to the caravan leader, an older orc named Eugene.
Unlike the lively and talkative Finn, this older orc with gray hair had a serious demeanor and rarely smiled. He seemed more like a general leading an army than a caravan leader.
The two groups of travelers headed southwest, gradually entering a vast, unending primeval forest as trees began to grow thicker.
"Unlike herding sheep and horses on the plains, the tribes here primarily rely on fishing, hunting, and farming for survival," Finn explained about the area.
Along the way, they passed several tribes, and after trading with each tribe, the caravan quickly set off for the next one.
Stanford noticed some small indigenous human tribes here, but most of them showed unmistakable wariness when they saw the orcs.
It seemed there was some trade and communication between them, but conflicts between the races still existed.
Finally, they arrived at their last stop, the tribe closest to the Rocky Mountains—the Blood Ox Tribe.
"Welcome, my friends!"
An older orc, about the same age as the caravan leader, stood at the entrance of the wooden stockade to greet them.
"My friend, long time no see!"
The usually serious caravan leader broke into a wide grin, revealing his long tusks, and warmly embraced the other orc.
Finn quietly introduced to Stanford, "The one hugging old Eugene is the tribe chief, Asoye. He's a generous man, but be careful of his eldest son, Gunther, the one standing behind him. He's greedy and cunning. I really don't know how Asoye ended up with a son like him."
Finn shook his head and sighed, while Stanford's gaze shifted behind Chief Asoye, where a tall, muscular orc stood bare-armed in the cold, appearing quite formidable, just as Finn had said.
Suddenly, the orc seemed to sense their scrutiny, turning his sharp eyes directly toward the two of them.
Finn and Stanford immediately averted their gazes, pretending nothing had happened.
"Who are these people?"
The old chief looked quizzically at the humans mixed in with the caravan.
"Oh, we ran into them on the road; they're a bunch of adventurers looking to buy furs here. But they are all warriors! They crossed the sea from the south and now want to traverse the Rocky Mountains to return south."
Eugene explained this to him.
"Crossed the sea? And now they want to cross that mountain?" The old chief's eyes widened.
"Indeed, they are brave warriors! Please invite their leader to the feast later."
Thus, Stanford inexplicably became a guest of honor at the local chief's table.
The feast was held in a wooden longhouse, characterized by its simplicity—no musicians playing, no formalities, and no extravagant decorations or carpets.
Everyone sat around a massive rectangular wooden table, eating meat and drinking large quantities of alcohol; some even embraced their jugs and drank heartily.
Though there were no songs or dances, there were wrestling matches and axe-throwing contests that entertained Stanford and his temporary deputy captain, Matthew, greatly.
"Guest!"
After downing a big bowl of alcohol, the old chief turned to Stanford, who was at a loss with a bowl nearly the size of his head.
"Could you share some stories from your journey with us, who have spent our lives in the forest?"
"Oh! I would be happy to share my experiences with the esteemed chief."
Stanford readily agreed.
...
"Just as we set sail out of the bay and turned north, we encountered an incredibly gigantic whale!"
"You all know what a whale is! But the one we encountered was especially huge; the part above water alone looked over twenty meters long!"
Immediately, a chorus of "boos" erupted in the banquet hall.
"Haha! This human is such a braggart! A fish over twenty meters long? You must have seen it in a dream!"
Gunther, the chief's son, led the laughter of those around him.
Matthew looked upset, ready to retort, but Stanford grabbed him.
He maintained a calm smile and continued in a steady voice, "We sailed further north, as the days grew shorter and the nights longer..."
He vividly described the sights in the land of eternal night, introducing the thriving world amidst ice and snow: massive bears covered in white fur, plump otters, lazy seals, and the indigenous people who lived there—both orcs and humans, along with a near-miraculous light display.
"Incredible!"
The chief lifted his bowl again. "You mean to say that even there, there are signs of civilization?"
"Yes, esteemed chief! Even there, civilization has not disappeared."
Asoye raised his large bowl, "To the gods! To life!"
"To life!"
Everyone in the hall echoed as they raised their bowls.
After everyone finished their drinks, the old chief said to Stanford, "Please forgive my son's rudeness, but we orcs are like this; we speak our minds and don't hold back."
Stanford smiled and nodded, accepting the apology.
Then he held up a delicate wooden box with both hands and said, "Esteemed Chief Asoye, this is a gift we present to you!"
A burly orc standing next to the chief approached and took the box from Stanford.
He wanted to open it for inspection, but Chief Asoye called out loudly, "No, Yeer, let me open it myself; I'm very curious!"
The orc named Yeer had no choice but to return to the chief and hand him the box.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Asoye carefully opened the box.
"Oh!"
"Huh!"
"Oh my!"
A chorus of amazement arose in the hall.
Inside the wooden box lay a... bottle, but it was an extraordinarily beautiful bottle! Most of the bottle was covered in white, like freshly squeezed milk, with intricate blue patterns drawn on it—flowers and birds, exquisitely lifelike, as if the birds might jump out of the bottle at any moment.
The orcs all used clay pots and bowls, and whether they were high-ranking leaders in the tribe or busy servants, none had seen such exquisite vessels since childhood; they were all left in awe.
"This... this is truly precious!"
Chief Asoye stared at the porcelain bottle, mumbling in astonishment.
(End of the Chapter)
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