By Joseph Sullivan

The marshlands were murky and rough. The sky was a dark and dull grey, the trees looked twisted and wizened, and each patch of mud looked as though it could swallow someone whole. The road through it looked as though it could disappear at any moment and take anyone on it with it.

Currently on it, though, were Reltanna Lirane, a wayward wizard who saw danger as opportunity for her curiosity, and her grandfather, a seasoned swordsman who was ready to fight anything that could cross him. The old man looked out of their travelling carriage with a grim expression, as though expecting a threat to emerge.

“Be on your guard,” he warned his granddaughter. “This whole swamp is orcish territory. They could come out of nowhere at any moment, so have some sort of spell ready.”

“Oh?” Reltanna looked up from her book. “You expect they’ll be hostile?”

“They’re…” Grandfather looked at her, seemingly confused. “Well, yes. They’re orcs. It’s what they do.”

“What do you mean, what they do?”

“Are you not familiar with orcs?” Grandfather replied in a sneering tone, stepping away from the window. “Haven’t you run into orcs before?”

“Well, yes, but you can’t attack them on sight! What if they’re peaceful?”

“Pfft,” Grandfather rolled his eyes. “Spare me this nonsense. I’ve fought in wars against them and slayed more than I can count. They can claim to have changed all they like, they’re not fooling me.”

“So you went to war with orcs in your day, Grandfather,” she rolled her eyes at repeating in your day, which had become a habit ever since the two had started travelling together. “Do you know much about their history?”

Grandfather snorted. “What more do I need to know? Is there something I missed out on beyond learning how to fight them?”

“I should think a great deal!” Reltanna snapped back. “Okay, granted, sages today of all peoples, even the orcs themselves, aren’t exactly sure on their origins, but most of the posited theories aren’t pleasant. But although they’ve fought with humans a lot, I wouldn’t call it the norm, at least not anymore with the greater knowledge we have today. For instance, there are the honourable orc warriors of the north, the forest-dwelling orcs of the west, the —”

“You studied a lot, I get it,” Grandfather interrupted. “But if there are orcs here, you can bet good coin that they’ll be hostile, so be prepared.”

“Fine, fine,” Reltanna shrugged. “I’ll prepare for the worst, if it makes you happy.”

“It’ll keep you alive,” Grandfather went back to the window.

A few minutes later, their carriage came across structures in the swamp, with a gate barring their progress down the road, and a pair of towers on either side of it. As Reltanna and her grandfather got a good look at them, a rough voice called out to them.

“Human travellers,” said the voice, which, when they looked up, could see belonged to an orc warrior standing outside the left tower, flanked by two others. “You are trespassing within orcish territory.”

“What did I tell you?” Grandfather whispered as he reached for his sword.

“Oh, for the love of —” Reltanna began whispering back, before turning to look outside. “We’re sorry!” she called out. “We didn’t know this was your territory and we mean you no trouble. If you let us through, we’ll be on our way.”

“Either way,” the orc shrugged. “You still have to pay the toll.”

“…pay the toll?”

“Ten of your gold coins will do it.”

Reltanna frowned. She did not like giving up coin when she did not have to, but reached into her purse anyway.

“What are you doing?” Grandfather asked.

“I’m paying them.”

“I can think of a different kind of payment —”

“Grandfather, do you want to keep fighting orcs?”

“It’s not that I want to…”

“Well, how do you expect them to remain peaceful if we wander through their territory and not pay any heed to their rules? Besides, it’s not too much…”

“Since when do you care about following rules?”

“Rules are inherently stupid,” Reltanna said, somewhat defensively, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll break them for no reason. Same with not getting into fights for no reason. Plus…if we fight here, we’ll probably have to fight lots more orcs before we get out of the swamp.”

“So? We could take them.”

“It’s not about —”

“I repeat, ten gold coins!” called out the gatekeeper again.

“Yes, yes, we have it right here!” Reltanna quickly gathered ten coins, against her grandfather’s silent protests, and handed them to the orcs.

“All there,” the gatekeeper counted. “Right, on your way, then.”

He went back inside the tower. A clunk was heard, the gate swung open, and the carriage passed through.

“See?” Reltanna told her grandfather. “That wasn’t so bad!”

“They’ve gotten even worse than in my day…” Grandfather muttered.

“What?!”

“Don’t you see what they did instead of attacking us?” Grandfather grimaced, and Reltanna could not tell if he was about to laugh or cry out in terror. “They have taxes now!”

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