"Korgan? It's Ashley. Time for your handler meeting."
Handler. As if I'm a wild animal that needs managing instead of a representative of my people who agreed to this circus for political leverage.
"Coming."
I sheath the ceremonial sword and check my appearance. The scars are obvious. The jagged line across my left shoulder from a goblin blade, the puncture wound on my forearm from a human spear, the ritual marks carved during my coming-of-age ceremony. They tell my story better than any introduction the producers might script.
Ashley leads me through corridors designed to look ancient but built last year. Everything here is constructed authenticity, just real enough to sell the fantasy. Like the show itself.
The production meeting room buzzes with human energy. Jessica, the executive producer, sits at the head of a table covered in charts, schedules, and photographs of the contestants. Two other humans I’m unfamiliar with flank her, one thin and nervous, the other broad-shouldered and confidentin the way humans get when they think they understand violence.
"Korgan! Good morning." Jessica's smile is bright enough to power the overhead lights. "How are you settling in?"
"Adequately."
"Great! These are Jonah, our social coordinator, and Jussel, head of wardrobe. They're going to help prepare you for tonight's introduction ceremony."
Jonah opens a folder thick with papers. "We've compiled some guidelines for social interaction with the contestants. Cultural sensitivity, appropriate conversation topics, general etiquette expectations."
He slides a packet across the table. The cover page reads: "Human Female Courtship: A Practical Guide for Non-Human Participants."
Non-human participants.Not allies. Not equals. Participants.
"Page three covers acceptable physical contact," Jonah continues. "Page seven outlines conversation taboos. We want to avoid anything that might be perceived as threatening or overly aggressive."
I flip through the pages, scanning bullet points like "Maintain appropriate personal space (minimum 18 inches)" and "Avoid discussion of combat experience or violent conflict."
"You want me to pretend I'm not an orc."
"Not pretend," Jessica interjects smoothly. "Just... emphasize your more relatable qualities. Your gentler side."
"My gentler side."
"Everyone has one! The audience needs to see that underneath the warrior exterior, you're just a regular guy looking for love."
Jussel spreads fabric samples across the table like he's displaying weapons. "We've prepared several outfit options fortonight. The goal is sophisticated but approachable. Dangerous enough to be exciting, civilized enough to be trustworthy."
He holds up a midnight blue jacket with silver threading. "This says 'mysterious' without saying 'might eat your family.'"
"I don't eat families."
"Of course not! But the audience doesn't know that yet. We're building narrative here."
Narrative. Another word for lies dressed up as entertainment.
Jussel continues pulling clothes from garment bags. "We've also prepared more casual options for day-to-day filming. Sweaters, button-downs, slacks. Nothing too formal, but elevated from what you might usually wear."
What I usually wear is leather armor and functional clothing designed for movement, weather, and the occasional need to intimidate enemies. These clothes look like costumes for playing "Orc Pretending to Be Human."
"The fabric choices are important," Jussel explains, holding up a soft gray sweater. "Cashmere says 'I'm successful but not threatening.' Cotton says 'I'm down-to-earth.' Silk says 'I'm sophisticated but potentially dangerous.'"
"What does leather say?"
"That you're compensating for something."
Jonah coughs. "The wardrobe choices support the overall character arc we're developing. You start somewhat intimidating, then gradually reveal your softer, more vulnerable side. The clothes help tell that story."
"And if I don't have a softer, more vulnerable side?"
