"Tell me, child, among the many orcs in this world… Hack-cough-wheeze…"
His uncle's voice was followed by heavy coughs. Even the galloping noise from his personal guards' horses beside him could not drown them out.
"...which ones are the most dangerous?"
He registered the words and raised his gaze from the soil under the horseshoes. "The ones that are the closest to death."
He did not appear enthusiastic on his horse, and he was behind his uncle's horse by a distance of one body.
"You are correct. The ones that are the closest to death." His uncle's weak voice seemed to have been injected with new energy. He sounded like how he used to when he was in the prime of his life, when he commanded his country and lived freely.
"They are like desert scorpions that hide their poisonous stingers in the back of their tails; like venomous snakes that bury their poisonous teeth in their mouths; like dangerous quicksand that is hidden underground."
