A Soldier's Life - 280 - Fake It Till You Make It (final edit 6-19-25)

Chapter 280: Fake It Till You Make It

Khoura was a sprawling city nestled among crop fields being cultivated for planting. The outer walls were a dark stone, but most of the buildings within were made of wood. It almost felt like we were in an alien world with nearly every citizen being an orc. Orc skin was mostly tones of gray, but there were occasional orcs with shades of greenish or reddish tint.

I caught Maveith’s attention from his focus on the goliaths carrying a carriage. “Now is not the time, we are here for your sister, not to free every goliath in the Caliphate.”

Maveith ground his teeth, “It is not right. Too many goliaths have been taken by the orc pirate slavers over the years.”

Raelia offered unhelpfully, “It is because the warlords see controlling larger men as a sign of their power. The slavers only sell to the Caliphate, they are not part of the Caliphate.”

Raelia didn’t appease Maveith, and I could see his veins beginning to bulge in his neck. I moved us out of sight of the goliaths. “Let’s go see about registering our guild medallions in the Caliphate.” I took the reins of Ginger and led my companions down the street, searching for the guild emblem. The Adventurer’s Hall should be somewhere along the main road.

The city was very clean, and the citizens were well-dressed. The architecture was crude but sound, relying on large beams. Being a border city, I didn’t think we would draw much attention, but I was wrong. Curious eyes followed us as we led our mounts down the Main Street. Raelia’s mount released a load as he walked, and a young light-gray orc emerged from the alley nearby to clean the mess immediately. One thing the city lacked was orc guard patrols.

I questioned Raelia since she was close. “Where are all the city guards?”

Raelia lectured everyone in a scholarly tone that could be considered condescending. “There are none needed in the streets. Orcs do not commit crimes against one another. The warlords bicker amongst themselves like old human housewives, but citizens of the Caliphate believe they should live their lives to serve the good of all the people. The elves believe it has made their craftsmen somewhat uninspired in their craft during their relatively short lifespan.”

Blaze asked curiously, “How long do orcs live?”

Raelia paused, sifting through her memories. “For the warlords and elite warriors, dying in battle is considered the highest honor. As their strength begins to wane, they deliberately seek out more dangerous fights. Reaching fifty summers is seen as a full life for them. The Boutan clerics live twice that, and the common citizens fall somewhere in between. But I should say—I’m no expert. Most of what I know came from my aunt’s lessons.”

“I thought that was why we brought you along—because you were the expert?” I said, casting Raelia an amused glance. She didn’t answer, just frowned, clearly irritated. I could see the tension in her shoulders as every orc eye stayed fixed on Baldo, who was perched like royalty in his pillion seat atop Stormcloud. The griffin seemed to bask in the attention, but the attention in her griffin was making her nervous.

We soon found the guild symbol, a tree with hundreds of branches mirrored by roots, on a sign over a building that looked more like an inn than an Adventurer’s Hall. The young orc stable hand did not speak Telhian or Elvish, and we had to rely on Raelia to converse with him. After a lengthy back-and-forth, it was two coppers a day for each mount and an extra copper if we wanted grain mixed with the hay.

I decided to pay three days in advance, just in case we had to delay our departure. I gave the young orc a silver, which included a tip of 28 coppers. Raelia relayed my expectations to change the water in the stalls three times a day for each horse and only give them the best straw and grain. I knew from Lucien that if sand got mixed into the straw, it could cause problems in the future that would require a healer.

Ginger didn’t like the unfamiliar smells or the strange orc stable hand, but settled down after an apple and some comforting words. With our mounts stabled, we headed into the Hall from the rear entrance.

As we stepped inside, a thick haze of sickly-sweet smoke hung in the air, clinging to our clothes and curling around the dim glowstones overhead. The scent was cloying—part spice, part rot, like overripe fruit left too long in the sun. Dozens of low tables filled the room, each surrounded by lounging adventurers drinking with a few puffing lazily on ornate pipes like serpents and beasts. The coals inside a large fireplace glowed a vibrant red, casting strange shadows.

A long, scarred, stained bar stretched across one side of the room, where a few hefty orc adventurers nursed heavy mugs and muttered in low voices. Behind the bar, mismatched bottles neatly lined shelves, their contents an array of colors.

Across the chamber, the standard assignment board stood against the far wall—faded, scratched, and covered in a patchwork of curled parchment. A pair of armored orcs strode along its length, scanning the notices with bored expressions, their weapons clinking softly at their sides.

Surprisingly, we did not draw much attention until Baldo chirped loudly and hissed. A server had stepped too close to Raelia, and Baldo was warning the young, cautious orc away. A dozen heads turned our way to study our group and the griffin. Under the hard gazes, Baldo puffed up to appear bigger, but after traveling with him for three weeks, I knew he was actually afraid.

Ignoring the attention, I headed for the clerk’s desk, my group following. A gray-haired orc was reviewing some paperwork and looked up, mildly annoyed. “We are here to register our Guild Medallions to work within the Caliphate. Six rooms for two nights if available,” I spoke in Elvish, and he pursed his lips, his short lower tusks showing.

“How many and where will you be traveling?” He asked in rough Elvish, but his sharp eyes were examining my group. He was clearly eyeing our weapons and making a judgment of our skill. Our runic weapons were disguised as best as we could manage. Only Benito stood lazily in our party, trying to strain his neck to make out a card game being played by a halfling, two orcs, and a human.

“We will be looking over the job posting board, but we hope to delve into The Vault of the Spirit Arachnid and The Whispering Grotto.” He looked surprised at the dungeons I had mentioned.

“That is quite the trek,” he said, focusing on me suspiciously.

My talk with the orc healer had been very productive. The Vault of the Spirit Arachnid was in the middle of the Boutan Caliphate, and The Whispering Grotto was on the northern coast, not far from the Warlord who had purchased Maveith’s sister Zorana. “We have a contract with an arcane weaver in Esenhem who wants the ethereal silk from the Spirit Arachnid and an alchemist who wants troll blood from The Whispering Grotto.”

“The blood is only viable for a few days after harvest,” he said, doubting me.

“A member of my party has a small dimensional space,” I replied. He slowly nodded in appreciation, accepting my explanation.

“Medallions,” he finally requested. I was the first to hand mine over. His eyes were briefly shocked by the silver coating, and then he noticed my number. “Thirteen?” He said, annoyed. “Your membership originated in the Telhian Empire?” My guild number was 13-393919. The 13 indicated which Adventurer’s Hall I became a member—while the second number was my membership number at that location.

“Is that going to be a problem?” I asked flatly.

He tapped his quill on his ink pot. “No,” he said curtly, but I could tell it was an issue for him. Just another kingdom that disliked Telhians.

He wrote down my information. I informed him, as he handed me the medallion back, “I am only registered in Telha. I am from Tsinga. I have no loyalty to the Empire.” I don’t know if he believed me but seemed somewhat appeased.

Now, a little more helpful, the clerk offered advice, “There is a backlog for entry into the dungeons you are interested in—three weeks or more. You could sign up for the queue here if you wish. One gold for each dungeon.”

“What if I miss my delve date?” I asked suspiciously.

He waved his hand dismissively, “You are just placed at the end of the queue. Miss ten dates, and then you relinquish your fee.”

After witnessing his hesitant reaction to my origin from the Empire, I couldn't shake off the suspicion about his true intentions. However, considering he was a Guild clerk and expected to assist, I reluctantly handed over two gold coins to maintain the expensive facade.

I’d made it clear to my companions that we weren’t here to delve into the dungeon—just to pass through the city. Retrieving two gold coins from my pouch, I placed them on the table. After a brief flurry of paperwork and a few exchanged nods, the clerk handed me two bronze tokens etched with orcish runes, their surfaces were worn from frequent use. A message sending would be dispatched in the morning to officially register the tokens in the dungeon queue.

Everyone was anxious with how long I had taken to register. Fortunately, the rest of my group’s medallions were from Esenhem guilds, and the clerk proceeded quickly to log them. We were told there was a ten percent Caliphate tax on all completed jobs, but other than that, we were now allowed to review the job board.

I paid for six rooms, each costing a silver, which included breakfast and all the light ale we could drink. Each room had two beds, but I thought we could all use a little privacy after that long trip. The good news was that Baldo was allowed in the Hall and could stay in Raelia’s room. In fact, two large war dogs were lying in the corner of the room behind a large tattooed orc in leather armor who was drinking and talking with others. The dogs’ eyes were following Baldo with anticipation.

“Get settled, and I will review the board,” I told everyone as they scattered and headed up the thick wooden stairs to find their rooms. My job was futile, as the postings were all in orcish. I found Raelia, and she locked Baldo in her room and returned to the board with me.

“What are we looking for?” she asked as she studied the very first posting. I could see she was struggling with the orc script, but wasn’t going to admit it.

“Anything that takes our path toward the center of the Caliphate and Spirit Arachnid Dungeon.” I said it loud enough for nearby adventurers to hear. Raelia studied each slip for a few minutes before moving onto the next one.

“This one is a monster subjugation job.” She slowly read it, “Village of Vormaz, ankhegs nesting near the fields.” We walked to a large map at the end of the postings and found the village more northeast than northwest, like I wanted. We began to go through other possible jobs one at a time.

Locate an escaped bull in the wild.

Find and eliminate green goblins raiding a chicken egg farm.

Basilisk eggs for an alchemist.

Sword trainer for twin sons of a merchant in Khedeilal.

This last one was a possibility because it was a hundred miles east of Grila, where the Spirit Arachnid Dungeon was located. The problem was that the tenure for the instruction was thirty days and was subject to renewal. We found two postings that were merchant escorts, but I didn’t want to take any of them because caravans moved so slow. We could make twice the distance daily without being slowed by a merchant.

“Any delivery jobs? The Caliphate doesn’t have a portal network, so there must be a lot of transportation jobs.” I asked Raelia, whose eyes were strained from translating.

“I think the merchant’s caravans handle those,” Raelia replied tiredly. “This one requires a silver adventurer,” she tapped a paper as she continued to read it. “I don’t think it suits us, though. It is for an earth mage to search for what they believe is an ancient battlefield. The orc cleric is looking for buried artifacts to confirm her guess.”

“Where is it, and how much does it pay?” I asked, intrigued.

“North of Adorechi—about fifteen miles according to the posting. Twenty gold if successful in recovering artifacts; otherwise, one gold per day of searching, up to ten days,” Raelia read slowly. I took the posting and pulled it down to bring to the clerk. The city of Adorechi was about three hundred miles from here but not too far from the main trade road. More importantly, it was in the direction we wanted to travel.

“But we don’t have an earth mage!” Raelia, said, exasperated. “If we take a job we are not equipped to handle, we will be penalized by the guild.” I ignored her and walked to the clerk. Raelia followed me helplessly.

The clerk looked at the posting and then at me. He already knew I was a silver adventurer and maybe heard Raelia announce that we didn’t have the skills for the job. “A member of my group has the earth speak spell form,” I informed the skeptical clerk. Raelia looked a little shocked.

The orc chewed the inside of his cheek for a minute and sucked on his tusks. He slowly started the paperwork for us to enroll in the job. “You have eight and a half days to report to Cleric Glasha in the city of Adorechi.” I nodded, as that was less than 40 miles a day and manageable on the main trade road. After the paperwork was completed, I headed back to our rooms with Raelia. “Tell the others we will leave mid-morning tomorrow. I would have liked to give them more of a rest from the saddle, but circumstances are not permitting it.”

“Who has earth speak among us?” She asked in a harsh whisper. “Maveith has a stone shape and isn’t capable of true spells.”

“I do,” I said, opening the door to my room and closing it behind me before Raelia could ask more questions. I left her stunned in the hallway for a few minutes before I heard her head to her room. Baldo was clearly excited to see her return, clucking for attention through the thin walls.

This trip would take us a third of the way across the Caliphate and bring us that much closer to the Warlord who had purchased Zorana ten years ago. I decided to forgo searching for an orc guide among the adventurers. Raelia was somewhat suited to the task, and I didn’t want to risk having too many unfamiliar eyes watching me.

I didn’t use the amulet or sleep much that night since I was restless. There was a lot of uncertainty ahead of us in the Caliphate lands, and everyone was looking to me to be the confident rock, even though underneath, I felt just as uncertain as they did.

As the leader, my mistakes could get my friends killed, and I was feeling more pressure now that we had entered the Caliphate. There was an old saying my music teacher in high school to say—fake it till you make it.

© Copyrighted 2024 by AlwaysRollsAOne

No Permission is given to translate, copy, or repost this original work of fiction. If you are reading this on a site that is not my Patreon it has been stolen without my permission and is a violation of DMCA. Remember, this work is the result of my creative effort and is protected by copyright law. Removal or altering of this notification is an acknowledgment you are aware you are in violation of DMCA.