Charmion used the key left by the soldiers to unlock the door and stepped inside.
In the center of the room stood a massive iron cage.
A dim light flickered on the walls of the room, swaying unpredictably as the door opened, casting Charmion's shadow across the space toward the caged half-orc.
The half-orc's breath quickened, and he stood up in a defensive stance, red eyes—his most notable characteristic—fixated on the man in the black robe.
Charmion approached the iron cage, gazing intently at the imprisoned figure.
Anger still flickered in the half-orc's eyes, but now there was also confusion and fear. Perhaps even a people despised by all humans had their own thoughts and emotions.
Charmion's gaze lowered, noticing that the cage had three new locks added. He let out a low, bitter laugh and extended his left hand toward the target. With his eyes half-closed and under the gentle white light of the dark staff, he uttered a soft command, and the locks fell away with a clatter.
Watching the black-robed man retreat, the young half-orc did not rush out of the cage eagerly. He hesitated for a moment before slowly stepping out. Stretching his massive body as if it were daytime, he then fixed his gaze on the most powerful human he had ever encountered.
The dark mage observed the half-orc in return. After studying him carefully, Charmion asked, "What is your name?"
The half-orc remained silent, standing there without responding.
Few half-orcs understood the human language, to begin with.
Charmion shot him a cold look and gestured toward the door, saying, "You can leave now." With that, he turned to walk away.
Just as he was about to exit, the half-orc surprisingly spoke in fluent continental common tongue, "Where do you want me to go?"
Without looking back, Charmion replied, "Back to your companions."
"I can't go back." The half-orc's previously volatile demeanor shifted, revealing a sense of calm tinged with despair in his massive frame. "As soon as I leave this place, as long as I'm not in a cage, I'll be surrounded and killed by you humans."
With that, he managed a wry smile, his red eyes locking onto Charmion's. "Isn't that right?"
Charmion frowned, turning to regard the half-orc for a long moment before finally saying, "Come with me."
On the silent streets deep into the night, only the occasional passing sentries could be heard. When the guards saw their leader, their faces paled slightly, and upon noticing the imposing half-orc following the black-robed man without any restraints, they instinctively stepped aside.
The half-orc observed the peculiar man ahead. From behind, he seemed not even to reach the half-orc's shoulder and appeared less robust than an average human. Yet within that slight frame lay a powerful strength.
A strength that even his kin felt intimidated by.
***
Charmion led the half-orc to the edge of the city and paused for a moment, before taking him up onto the city wall.
The soldiers on duty atop the wall were taken aback.
Charmion gave a few brief instructions, clearing a section of the wall for just himself and the half-orc.
As they reached the top of the wall, a brisk wind from the plains outside Jade Mountain City hit them head-on. The half-orc inhaled deeply, greedily savoring the air, reluctant to let it go.
Charmion pointed northward, saying, "If you walk three hundred miles north, you will reach the Half-Orc Wastes. I will instruct my men to let you pass, so take advantage of the darkness and leave quickly. As for what fate awaits you after you depart, that is up to your luck!"
The half-orc regarded him intently and suddenly declared, "You are different from the others."
Charmion responded coolly, "You are overthinking things. Just hurry back to your companions and live your life."
The half-orc scoffed coldly, "A good life? What do you think we live?" He paused, anger evident on his face again, but this time it wasn't directed at anyone; instead, he tilted his head to the sky, clenched his fists, and exclaimed, "Do you know the terror of a sandstorm? The entire world becomes a yellow haze. Countless grains of sand threaten to engulf you, and the fierce winds can lift you into the air and throw you to the ground, killing you. It's dreadful, isn't it? But that is how we spend every single day."
Charmion remained expressionless, turning his gaze outward to the flat plains beyond the city.
In the wind here, there seemed to be a fresh scent of grass wafting through the air.
The half-orc took a few steps forward, gazing at the beautiful plains illuminated by the night, his excitement palpable. "Do you know?" he continued, "Every member of my tribe dreams of living on such fertile grounds. But since the day I was born, I've been told that all we have is endless sand!"
***
Charmion turned coldly to the agitated half-orc and said, "Dreams must be fought for; otherwise, they are mere fantasies. Your people have spent hundreds of years trapped in the Half-Orc Wastes, destined for extinction. This is a world where the weak are preyed upon by the strong. You can only blame yourselves for not being strong enough."
The young half-orc spun around with a fierce expression, insisting word for word, "But I will not give up. I refuse to live like that any longer, nor do I want my people to continue living like that. That's why I learned from the tribe's great shaman, to gain knowledge and to learn your human language. I only hope to find a way."
At this point, the excitement that had filled him faded, and after a long pause, he added, "But I have found that no matter what, our half-orc race can never claim even a small piece of land from you humans. You see us as savages, merely slaves for your mining operations; when it comes to wielding force, the entire number of our half-orc kin does not even approach the size of your one nation's army." With a bitter laugh, he continued, "What do you expect me to do? How can I fight for my dreams?"
Charmion regarded him intently.
Deeply!
Deeply!
As if trying to see through the heart of this half-orc.
Then he turned his gaze back to the vast, fertile plains and spoke in a calm, measured tone, "This plain is called the 'Horseshoe Plain.' It stretches westward for several hundred miles from the Cangyun Corridor, named for its resemblance to a horseshoe. Several great rivers converge here, and the soil is fertile; it is among the best land on the continent."
The half-orc followed his gaze, filled with boundless yearning.
Charmion inhaled deeply and suddenly turned around.
A strong wind swept across the plain, causing the banners on the city wall to flap loudly. The stars in the night sky were obscured, leaving only the radiant full moon, illuminating the world as though it were daylight.
The half-orc felt a shiver run through him, instinctively taking a step back. Before him, the man stood in the wind; in that night, under such a bright moon, it was as if all the light in the world concentrated upon him for the first time.
His black robe billowed in the wind, his dark hair brushed against his face, and his eyes were clear and bright.
***
"Here," the dark mage pointed to the plains beyond the city, his calm voice carrying an unmistakable authority, "this plain is the land I grant you."
In an instant, the half-orc held his breath.
That night, the wild moon hung high in the sky.
The fierce wind howled.