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Chapter Thirty-Three

Varen

Korik was going to leave Drol Kuggradh.

The realization had hit him like a thunderbolt at first, but now Varen only felt numb. Everything he had hoped for—the time to make things right with the orc—was crumbling in his hands, and now, he didn’t know what he would do.

After confronting Korik in the tower, somehow he had ended up in the barracks, making sure Lyielle and Taneas had a place to settle in. They asked if he would join them for dinner, and he had absently agreed. He’d found his way to his room and was now lying listlessly on his bed, looking up at the stone ceiling and desperately wishing he had not agreed to meet them. He didn’t want to see anyone—he wanted to curl up in his blankets and remain there forever.

But moping around and feeling sorry for himself would accomplish nothing. So he forced himself to wash and change into fresh clothes, meeting Lyielle and Taneas at the entrance to the barracks at the appointed time.

The younger scout was looking around with an obvious mixture of curiosity and anxiety at being in a new place. Lyielle, on the other hand, was everything he had tried to be when he’d first been promoted to commander. Stoic and calm, appearing all at once keenly observant, yet entirely unaffected by her surroundings. She came across as cool and collected, something Varen had never been able to get quite right—he wondered how she seemed so unflappable without being as outwardly unapproachable, or arrogant, as he’d always seemed to be.

“Commander,” she greeted politely as he approached, startling Taneas to attention.

“Hello, you two,” he said, as cheerily as he could manage. “No need for regular old mess hall fare while we’re in the city, hm? There are already a few elven restaurants, but if you like trying new things, I know a great orc place right nearby.”

Taneas and Lyielle shared a look. The ranger’s expression remained unchanged, but Taneas managed a slight, apprehensive smile.

“We trust your judgment, Commander,” Lyielle replied smoothly. Taneas nodded.

“Follow me, then,” Varen prompted, then stepped past them. “And we’re off duty. No need to be so formal.”

They followed him as he left the compound and emerged in the streets of Drol Kuggradh. Despite himself, Varen’s eyes darted between each building and tent they passed, wondering if perhaps Korik was nearby. He didn’t know where, exactly, his shop was—though he knew if he asked around, it couldn’t be too hard to find.

But he saw no sign of Korik, nor his shop, as they made the short trip to the dining hall a few streets away that Varen had grown familiar with over the past months. It served standard orc fare, but since it was so close to the castle, and the barracks that housed the elven military presence, the owners were on friendly terms with the elves. The orc couple and their young son welcomed all, and while it was still mostly orc patrons, it was not unusual to see one or two other groups of elves there—tonight was no exception.

“Welcome!” an orc woman’s voice came as they entered, speaking elvish. Varen managed a smile at Lavi, who ran the front of the restaurant; her husband Mul was the chef, but Varen had only ever seen him a few times. Her elvish, though stilted, was much improved compared to when the peace treaty was first enacted and so many elves migrated to the city—far superior to his orcish, though. “Sit where you like. Be right there.”

Varen led the other two to an empty table—only a few were left. Lyielle still looked completely unruffled, but Taneas was looking around with huge eyes and sat stiffly across from Varen.

“It’s a small menu, so no need to worry too much,” Varen explained. “They roast boar, ox, and chicken with traditional orc spices. It’s very... Not spicy , but spiced, compared to elven food. Very herbaceous. You’ll like it. I get the ox with fried tomatoes and greens. Or you can get it as a savory porridge—that’s good, too, almost like a stew.”

Lavi came by then, carrying a kettle of tea and several cups, which she set in front of them. Most orcs had jet black hair, but hers had a reddish tint to it and was tied back in a long ponytail that swished behind her as she walked.

“You brought new blood,” she remarked to Varen, who managed a slight laugh. Taneas blanched; Lyielle looked entirely unaffected. “You were busy? Long time since I see you.”

“I’ve been away, yes,” Varen chuckled, then added in orcish, “A mission in Krag Gabriz. Mountains. You know?”

Her eyes brightened at that, and she spoke in orcish too quickly for him to understand, before adding in elvish, “Never been. But my sister marry a man from there. Says beautiful, but dangerous too. Nature, animals.”

“I saw plenty of both,” Varen answered, nodding. He wondered if she knew Korik, if Korik had ever been there. He almost asked, then stopped himself. “But I’m glad to be home.”

“Glad to see you safe,” Lavi continued. “Usual plate for you?”

“Yes, please,” he answered, then gestured to his guests. “And whatever they’d like.”

Lavi turned to them brightly.

“Er... I’ll have the same as him,” Taneas said, gesturing back toward Varen. Lavi nodded. Lyielle had turned her head over to where the menu was displayed on the wall and now turned back to look at Lavi with the same stoic expression.

“I’ll try the porridge, please. With boar.”

Lavi’s smile somehow widened. “My son’s favorite. You’ll like it.”

Then she hurried off to the kitchen, leaving them alone.

Varen eyed the two elves sitting across from him. He was decidedly not in the mood for conversation. Lyielle seemed the quiet sort, but maybe he could get Taneas to fill the silence with all his nervous energy.

“So, Taneas,” he remarked—the younger elf nearly jumped out of his seat when Varen addressed him directly. “How did you end up stationed in Solitude? Do you like it so far?”

A slight smile spread across his boyish features, and sure enough, he quickly launched into his entire life story. Varen nodded and hummed at the appropriate moments, but was only half-listening. His thoughts kept going back to Korik, wondering where he would go, why he wanted to leave. Had he really been that insufferable? Did Korik really hate him so much?

We don’t ever have to see each other again . While he’d regretted the words immediately, it hadn’t felt so painful when he was the one saying it. Having Korik throw his words back at him... If it had made Korik feel as terrible as he felt, then that would explain the orc’s coldness toward him; but to leave the city entirely? It made him miserable to consider, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of anything else.

“So then I ended up in Solitude,” Taneas said, concluding his story and snapping Varen back to attention. “It’s much colder than home. But I’ve learned a lot so far, and I’ll just be there another year. So I’m enjoying it, all things considered.”

“I see,” he said. Luckily, Lavi came by with their food before he needed to say anything more. Taneas eyed his plate suspiciously, but the dish looked delicious as far as Varen was concerned: thick pieces of meat in a green, herby sauce with tomatoes and leafy greens piled high on the side. It was his favorite dish in the city. He wondered if Korik liked this kind of food, or maybe even had a family recipe that he used.

“Thank you,” he said politely, smiling up at Lavi.

“Thank you,” Taneas echoed, as if chiding himself.

“Enjoy!” Lavi replied cheerfully, stepping away. Lyielle primly picked up a spoon and began to eat her porridge, with no outward sign of whether she enjoyed it. Taneas hesitantly took a bite, then his eyes flashed with surprise, and he quickly ate more, clearly pleased with his choice.

Varen forced down a few bites, but his appetite was non-existent. He should have been jumping at the chance to devour such a decadent meal, after so long subsisting on rations and what they could scavenge, even with a few days of hot meals from the Solitude mess hall. But it all tasted bland and sad, somehow.

He ended up pushing his food around his plate, more than actually eating. When he glanced over, the scout had all but cleared his own plate, and Lyielle was eating at an unhurried pace—he supposed that probably meant she was enjoying it, so at least they got a good meal out of all this.

“Thank you for the recommendation, Commander,” she said when she was done, setting her spoon down carefully. “I enjoyed the meal.”

He forced a smile. “Glad to hear it.”

“Yeah, it was great,” Taneas agreed. “I’ve never tasted anything like that. I don’t know what herbs those are, but I’ll have to see if there’s any way I can take some back with me. Delicious.”

“Commander,” Lyielle said, before Varen could answer. “Are you feeling well?”

Varen blinked, surprised. “I—well, yes.”

“I only ask because you didn’t eat,” she said. He winced, glancing away.

“I suppose I’m less hungry than I thought I would be,” he replied. Her face didn’t change, but he got the distinct impression that she was unconvinced. Taneas glanced sidelong at her with a nervous, uncertain expression; but her eyes remained on Varen.

“Did something happen between you and Healer Korik?” she asked, and this time Varen really did flinch with surprise.

“That’s—that’s rather presumptuous of you, Ranger,” he stammered, trying to slow his hammering heart. She bowed her head slightly.

“My apologies,” she said. Her tone was exactly the same as always. “But we noticed that you and the healer did not speak to each other on the journey here, even though you had been traveling together to reach Solitude. Is he someone we cannot trust? Is there cause for concern?”

“No, no,” Varen replied quickly, shaking his head. “It isn’t—it’s nothing like that. No. There’s no cause for concern.”

She said nothing in response, only cocked her head slightly, as if prompting him to continue. Varen forced himself not to scowl; but he supposed that from the outside looking in, it could appear that he and Korik might have disliked each other for more nefarious reasons. Even if Korik never wanted to see him again, Varen didn’t want him to get into any trouble, so he needed to convince Lyielle that he was telling the truth.

So, begrudgingly, he ground out, “We just had a slight... falling out before we got to Solitude. Being trapped alone in the wilderness together is a sure way to butt heads with someone.”

“Was Healer Korik your friend?” Lyielle asked, direct as ever. The question felt like a stab in his chest. Were they friends? He wanted them to be—he wanted to be more than that—but at that moment, it felt as if they never had been friends, and maybe never would be.

“I suppose we were,” he finally answered. “We got along decently well for a time. Until we didn’t.”

Taneas’ expression had become incredulous the longer he looked over at Lyielle. Not that Varen could blame him, as these were rather brazen questions, considering how perfectly polite the woman had been until now. Her eyes remained on Varen’s, watching him with such intensity that he was feeling unsettled.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lyielle finally said, seeming to deem his answer acceptable. “That is unfortunate. But, perhaps, some friendships are only meant to last a short time. Once someone has served their purpose in your life, you can go your separate ways. It may be sad, but is often for the best.”

Her words were intended to be comforting, but the longer Lyielle spoke, the more infuriated Varen became. He wanted to fire back with some cutting remark, but his mind was blank. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to cause a scene, so he forced a tight smile back at her. “There is some wisdom there, Ranger. Thank you.”

After an uncomfortable silence, Taneas started to chatter nervously again. It was a familiar habit, one Varen also found himself falling into whenever he was nervous; but being on the other end of it, for once, made him suddenly feel sympathy for everyone whose ears he had talked off due to nerves in his past. Cold rage still simmered in his chest at Lyielle’s suggestion.

When Lavi came by again, Varen waved her over, paid their bill—ignoring how profusely Taneas thanked him—and excused himself, saying he had some business to attend to, and that he hoped the pair enjoyed the rest of their evening. He hurried out of the dining hall before either could get more than a polite goodbye out. He started heading down the streets deeper into Drol Kuggradh, but stopped short, realizing he had no idea where he was going.

The city wasn’t especially large, and he was sure that he could find Korik’s shop easily enough—after all, he was the only healer with a permanent residence within its walls. He could ask any orc off the street and find out where to go.

But Korik had been quietly furious with him just a few hours ago. Maybe they both needed to cool off. Varen was angry at what Lyielle had said, desperate to prove her wrong; but that would make him rash, and his inability to think and react calmly was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

He didn’t want his relationship with Korik to be temporary, for their transaction to be over so they could now go their separate ways satisfied. He wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to tell Korik as much—wanted to tell him all the things that he regretted about how he’d handled their... situation. How he didn’t want it to be temporary, or meaningless. How he had never, in all his long years of life, felt his heart jump and flutter the way it did when they were together. How he relished being the one to see Korik’s smiles and hear his laughs, when he was so guarded and stoic around everyone else.

Varen needed to apologize, properly this time. He hated the realization, but it was the truth. If he had any hope of mending things between him and Korik, he needed to find the orc before he left Drol Kuggradh and beg his forgiveness—for saying such flippantly cruel things, for not being upfront about his feelings from the beginning—for all of it. Maybe if he could lay it all out plainly, he could convince Korik to stay.

“You alright there?” an orc asked, walking the opposite way on the stone street. Varen jumped, realizing he’d stopped and was staring blankly across the road in his rumination. This orc looked like a worker, a smith of some sort; he wore a worn leather apron over a sleeveless tunic, his arms bulging with muscles and littered with burns and scars.

“Er—yes,” Varen stammered, shaking himself back to alertness. “Just clearing my head. Thanks.”

“I’m heading up to the castle, if you’re lost,” the orc offered, and Varen shook his head.

“I’m alright,” he replied, then paused. “Actually... If I wanted something to help with a hangover, where could I go around here?”

The orc chuckled. “You’d want the healer’s house. He’s got a tonic for that. Used it more than once, myself, so you can be sure it works.”

“Where would I find him?”

“A few streets down. Make a right at Shazel’s Silks, then keep going for a bit. It’s a stone house with herbs hanging in the windows and some flowerbeds in the front. Can’t miss it.”

Flowerbeds . Somehow the thought of Korik growing flowers seemed unbearably sweet. He was sure that they were probably herbs, or had medicinal properties; but it also grounded the orc’s presence in the city in a way that Varen had somehow never considered before. He had a whole life here—a shop he ran, plants he would someday harvest—and Varen had driven him to the point that he was ready to abandon it all. Guilt wracked his chest, but he kept the same pleasant expression on his face.

“Appreciate it,” he said to the orc, then kept walking. He would not go there now, but at least he knew where to go, once he planned out what he would say. And if he happened to pass by it on his way back to the castle, well, he just wanted to know what it looked like for the future.

He turned at the shop the orc had mentioned and continued on the winding path; sure enough, after he’d passed by a few rows of houses and shops, he could spot it up ahead. The cobblestone path led slightly uphill, and on the right side of the path was a stone, two-story building with raised flowerbeds in the front. Even from this distance, Varen could see the lower level had tall glass windows facing the street, and in them he saw bundles of dried herbs hanging.

Korik was nowhere to be seen. It was as he expected, yet it still elicited a strange mix of disappointment and relief all at once. It was better not to see him now; but some part of Varen had hoped maybe Korik would be here, would confront him, and would force him to say all the things swirling around in his head before he could chicken out.

But the street was empty, and it was dark enough now that he could see candlelight flickering in the smaller windows of the second floor. At least he’d made it home safe.

Varen turned and went back the way he came. He didn’t think Korik would leave immediately, and some time to cool off for both of them would be best; but he couldn’t wait too long, either. A night of rest, a day or two to think out the exact right words, then he would return.