Chapter Two: The Half-Orc

Half-orcs are a unique existence on this continent. Except for a few kingdoms that emphasize peace and tolerance to an extreme degree, no place truly accepts half-orcs. The reason is simple: the very birth of this species is a tragedy.

Mindless and ferocious beasts often capture human prisoners but cannot control their own bodies, resulting in the creation of half-orcs. Once born, these half-orcs are usually cast out or outright killed by their beastly parents, who despise their frail physiques. Humans, on the other hand, find it even harder to accept them, viewing their existence as a symbol of human humiliation.

These poor souls are doomed to a long life of flight and, upon capture, are sold as slaves, living lives worse than animals. The price of half-orc slaves is typically very low. Old White tried to persuade Roshu for a long time to choose a different target. He even brought out a few slaves that Roshu had often browsed before and paraded them around, but aside from letting Roshu fondle them a few times for no reason, it had no effect.

Roshu was resolute in his decision and insisted on the cheapest one. Resigned, Old White sighed and finally brought out Layla.

Layla was a half-orc girl with the bloodline of a silver moon bear. She had shoulder-length chestnut hair and wore tattered linen clothes. Her frame was exceptionally slender, as if a gust of wind could blow her over. Most striking were the pair of silver, rounded ears atop her head, trembling nervously, whether from fear or anxiety.

Roshu sized her up and nodded with satisfaction. “How much?”

“That damn boy, asking on purpose even though he knows,” Old White grumbled irritably. “180 copper coins. Not a single coin less. The goods I handle are all intact and worth the price.”

“Fine.” Roshu didn’t haggle and promptly placed 180 copper coins before Old White.

Seeing the pile of copper coins, Old White’s mood lifted slightly. Although he wouldn’t make much profit from this deal, he thought that perhaps his other goods might be spared from Roshu’s ruthless hands in the future, which wasn’t a bad prospect.

He pocketed the coins and looked at Roshu’s thin money pouch, warning him, “The taxes are due soon. You’d better save some, or you’ll be kicked out of Wheel Town before next spring.”

Fearing Roshu might not take him seriously, he added, “Spending a night outside Wheel Town? You won’t survive one.”

“Alright, thanks for the warning. But with Layla here, I shouldn’t have trouble paying the taxes,” Roshu said, patting Layla’s head, making the already bashful girl blush deeply.

Old White didn’t catch the implication and didn’t bother to figure it out. This reminder was the last kindness from a man who had lived his life for copper coins; he had no intention of saying more.

After handing over a simple contract for controlling the slave, the transaction was officially complete. Roshu bid farewell and left the White Trading House with Layla.

Old White muttered as he watched their retreating backs, “Never thought that brat would like this type. I thought he preferred the curvier ones…”

Roshu headed north out of the trading house, toward a forest known for frequent goblin activity.

Along the way, Layla did not speak once. She followed closely behind Roshu, mirroring his every step. When he walked, she walked; when he stopped, she stopped.

Noticing this, Roshu found it amusing. After a quick burst of walking, he suddenly halted. Layla crashed into him.

“Ouch…” she held her nose, looking timidly at Roshu, puzzled by her master’s intent.

Roshu laughed at her expression. “Finally heard you speak. I thought I bought a mute.”

Layla’s face flushed scarlet as she shyly said, “Master doesn’t allow Layla to speak, so Layla doesn’t dare.”

“Well, now I’m telling you to speak. Tell me what you can do.”

Roshu’s gentle smile and youthful handsome face made Layla avert her gaze nervously. She lowered her head and whispered, “Layla… Layla can cook, clean, wash clothes, weave cloth, chop wood, farm, and… warm the bed.”

Her voice grew softer until it was barely audible.

“Can you fight?” Roshu asked.

“Huh?” Layla was caught off guard and stared blankly at him.

“I heard half-orcs have a talent to briefly transform into beasts. I want you to help me kill a goblin. Can you do that?”

“Go-goblin…” Fear crept into Layla’s eyes, her small body trembling. She knew well that even a single goblin was a dangerous creature on this continent.

Seeing her fear, Roshu smiled reassuringly. “If you worry about infection from goblin wounds, don’t. As long as you can beat the goblin, I’ll treat you. I’m a healer.”

“Of course, if you’re unwilling, it’s fine. I can try to persuade Old White again.”

“Y-yes!!!” Layla’s voice grew louder for the first time. She grasped Roshu’s arm tightly, pleading, “Master, don’t send Layla back. Layla can fight well and wants to stay with you.”

Even if Roshu was just trying to deceive her, she didn’t want to return. She had been there too long. Roshu was the first to choose her, the first to smile at her.

She had no other thoughts. For a half-orc with no dignity, she only wanted to follow Roshu, no matter how long that time might last.

Roshu was surprised by Layla’s fierce response. Then he smiled and patted her head. “I’m counting on you then, Layla.”

“I believe you’re good at fighting; after all, your grip is pretty strong.”

He winked at the arm she was clutching. Layla suddenly realized and quickly let go, but it was too late—Roshu’s exposed arm was red.

“Sorry, Master, sorry. Layla didn’t mean to…” she lowered her head, apologizing repeatedly, tears shimmering in her eyes, unsure if she would face a beating or abandonment.

When she looked up, Roshu had already moved to the doorway of a meat pie shop, bargaining with the owner.

“Two copper coins each. Uncle Glen, why don’t you rob them? I only have three copper coins. Sell me two, and I’ll buy both. Otherwise, not a single one.”

Before long, Roshu returned with two huge thin meat pies. He handed one to the dazed Layla and bit into the other with satisfaction.

“What are you waiting for? Eat it while it’s hot. Uncle Glen’s deals don’t come often. You must be hungry. You need strength to fight.”

Layla stared at the steaming meat pie in her hand. The warmth of the food, so long missed, made her momentarily dazed.

Food. Hot food.

Steam rose, blurring her vision and condensing into droplets that fell softly, drip… drip…

Near the northern sunset forest, Roshu pointed at a goblin constantly looking around in the woods.

“Layla, that’s your target. You’ll go and take it down.”

“Remember, just beat it half to death. I’ll finish it off myself.”

“Also, be quick. There’s a goblin nest nearby. This one is like a patrol guard. The last guard told me you have only a few minutes to kill it before other goblins are attracted.”

“Even though you don’t have to worry about infection, be careful not to get seriously hurt. Got it?”

Roshu rambled on, but Layla said nothing. She only stared fixedly at the muscular, red-eyed goblin, too nervous to speak.

Roshu chuckled lightly. “You can still back out now. No worries. Worst case, I’ll go find Lady Chelsea tomorrow… Damn!!!”

Roshu swore in surprise—Layla had already charged out.

With a deafening roar, a silver giant bear over two meters tall appeared before Roshu. Layla had transformed into the bear and, with near-mad speed, rushed at the startled goblin.

Her eyes fixed on the prey, her heart echoed one command:

Layla, kill it!!!

Master said, kill it!!!