Kraghtol could hardly believe it, he realized as he relaxed in the warm water. It was not only the fact that he would set foot in a city the size of Winterstone for the very first time in his life. No, if everything worked out, he would soon be a student of the alchemical craft, which was nothing short of a miracle. It had taken nineteen years, but finally, his life would take a turn for the better.
Chapter 3
Welcome to Winterstone
Winterstone was huge. It wasn’t just the biggest city Kraghtol had ever seen. That was easy to achieve, since the half-orc had never left the vicinity of his home village before.
No, Winterstone was positively enormous, even compared to what Kraghtol had expected, and he took a moment to take it all in from the hill he was on.
Dense clusters of brick buildings lay sprawled out on the other side of a large river, and smoke from countless chimneys sticking out of tidy red roofs rose into the chilly morning air. Kraghtol had no doubt they could house thousands of people, if not tens of thousands, a sheer number that made his head swim. While a massive wall protected the city to the west, south and east, the glittering blue band of the river Kraghtol was approaching separated it from the northern reaches of the country on the last side. It transported massive amounts of waterfrom the mountains in the east towards the west and brought with it a small fleet of trade ships laden with goods from the rest of the country.
Dozens of these ships with furled white sails were docked at the river harbor of Winterstone, on the opposite bank of the flowing water. On Kraghtol’s side, there was only a small ferry dock signifying the way into Winterstone from the north.
As Kraghtol walked up to the dock, he noticed two armed men in what Kraghtol assumed to be the colors of the city — green and blue — sitting at a table in front of a small guard post. They were playing a card game and only looked up when Kraghtol was close. Then, however, both shuffled to their feet instantly and grabbed their halberds tightly.
“Halt! Who…whatare you?”
It was hardly the first time Kraghtol had heard that question in his life, and even though the idea of how easy it would have been to overwhelm the inattentive guards flashed through his mind, he fought it down and smiled.
“I’m Kragh Wulfspar, from the village of Mistpine.”
He was acutely aware of how his smile accentuated his damned tusks, but there was nothing he could do about it. Instead, he added,
“And I’d like to enter the city.”
The two guards exchanged a look before the same one from before said,
“But you’re a savage, an orc, even though you speak like a civilized man. Your kind is not welcome here. How did you even cross the border? And what do you want in the city?”
The weird mix of polite words and thinly veiled hostility told Kraghtol that the guard was out of his depth. He had probably never seen green skin in his life, and Kraghtol couldn’t blame him. He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm and polite.
“I assure you I’m not an orc. I was born to a human mother within the borders of Wardenreach and raised by Merrick Wulfspar, a renowned healer, who is also as human as you are. My appearance must seem startling to you, but aside from that, my ancestry is harmless.”
He took another deep breath, trying to believe the lie himself despite knowing his short temper and intrusive thoughts.
“And to answer your question, I’m here to join the alchemists’ guild.”
The guards exchanged another look before the one talking to Kraghtol excused himself for a brief exchange with his colleague. Kraghtol tried not to eavesdrop, but he still could hear words like ‘green’, ‘savage’ and ‘not illegal’ from the post. Then, he found something else to concentrate on: without his active doing, his fist had clenched at his side, and it took a minor feat of willpower to unclench it again just in time as the guards emerged back from the conversation.
“Sorry for the wait, …sir. If you have nothing to declare, you may enter the city. The entry fee and payment for the ferry is a silver coin.”
The ‘sir’ sounded cautious, and Kraghtol couldn’t remember anyone addressing him like that before. But apparently, the guard was careful to stick to some unknown protocol now, and Kraghtol just nodded as he fished out one of his few silver coins. He hadn’tconsidered that the mere entry into the city would cost him money, but he still had enough for now.
Without further problems, the city guards allowed him to proceed to the dock, where an old lady who operated the ferry gestured him towards one of the small boats.
They undocked in silence and were already half across the broad stream when the lady suddenly spoke in an unpleasant, croaky voice.
“This is your first time in Winterstone?”
“Yes. I’m here to join the alchemists’ guild.”
The old ferrywoman nodded.
“Aye, I couldn’t help but overhear that. Never seen one of your likes in the city before. My advice: keep out of trouble if you can.”
Kraghtol hesitated with a feeling of uneasiness. Even though he was certainly unique in his home village, he had hoped there would be one or two other half-orcs in the big city. However, the reaction of the city guards then and the old lady now seemed to suggest that he would be just as alone in Winterstone as he had been for all his life. Well, perhaps not alone, but unique, he corrected himself quickly. People were bound to be more open and more welcoming in a big city than in a small village, after all.
“Is there anything I should know about the city?” he asked.
