Praise the Orc!

Chapter 199: Like a King, Like a Slave (3)

Chapter 199: Like a King, Like a Slave (3)

Far off, the spires of Orcrox began to appear.

"Crockta," the still-unidentified elf spoke.

It was rare for him to start the conversation. Crockta looked at him.

"Let me ask you a question."

"Sure, go ahead."

The elf stopped walking, and the rest of the group followed suit. At that moment, they sensed the elf would soon leave them. It was an inexplicable premonition. This question might as well be his last.

"What does this look like to you?"

The elf extended his hand. Then, something unfathomable happened. One of the lush water trees that were towering over Crockta and his companions began to bow its head slowly.

The tree gently lowered its arm-like branches toward them, moving with a dignified grace as if they were alive.

Crockta and his group were astonished with their mouth agape.

"Crockta, what do you think this is?"

A sparrow that was sitting on the branch flew down to the elf's fingertip. Both the tree and the sparrow seemed to move solely for his purposes.

"That is..."

Crockta observed it closely.

It was just an ordinary sparrow.

"... a sparrow."

"You’re right. It’s a sparrow."

The elf waved his hand, and the sparrow took flight but did not stray from his side. Instead, it settled on his shoulder and nuzzled its head against him.

"It might look like a brown-eared sparrow or a chickadee. Perhaps even a yellow-billed sparrow. The important thing is, it's definitely not a crow."

"Indeed. It is certainly not a crow."

"However..."

The elf looked directly at Crockta.

"If everyone calls this bird a crow, what would you do?"

Crockta was puzzled as he couldn’t understand the meaning behind the elf’s question.

"I’m not sure I know what you mean..."

"Clearly, this bird is not a crow. No matter how many times you look, and what angle you look at it from, it's not. But if everyone calls this bird a crow, what then? Too many—no, every single person in the world except you."

The elf lifted the sparrow on his fingertip again. The sparrow turned to look directly at Crockta.

This elf did not seem to have a malicious spirit.

Crockta could sense it. Otherwise, such a small bird wouldn't sit so calmly on the elf's hand and look at him.

The elf continued.

"The whole world, except you, calls it a crow. If you say that this is not a crow but a sparrow, everyone will turn their back on you. They might mock you as blind or beat you for lying. No matter how loudly you protest, no one will listen. You will be the only madman."

"Ah..."

"Crockta, even if that is the case, would you still call this bird a sparrow? Or would you conveniently agree it's a crow and look the other way?"

Crockta smiled. It was an easy question.

"Well, if everyone calls the sparrow a crow, I suppose I could indulge them that much. What's the big deal."

"Is that so..."

"But..."

Crockta fiddled with his greatsword's handle.

"If that sparrow tells me that it's indeed not a crow but a sparrow, then no matter what anyone says, I’m going to call it a sparrow."

"..."

"If people try to paint its beautiful feathers black because they insist it's a crow, I will stop them and insist that it's a sparrow, no matter what."

Crockta looked at Tiyo, Anor, and Zankus. They shrugged their shoulders.

Crockta grinned at the elf.

"Because a sparrow is a sparrow."

The elf shook his head.

"Then you will be alone. No one will want to be with you. You will become the weird one."

There was a hint of self-mockery in his voice.

Crockta burst out in laughter, his laughter echoing through the tranquil forest.

"You dress like a king but think like a slave."

"...!"

The elf's eyes widened.

No one had ever called him a slave before. Actually, it had always been quite the opposite. He possessed a power that nobody could belittle, dressed flamboyantly, and acted with dignity.

Yet, this orc was calling him a slave.

"You wear magnificent clothes. But you worry more about others, about the gaze of those around you than you do about your own beliefs. That's the mindset of a slave. If you’re so afraid of what others think of you, go ahead and call the sparrow a crow as all the others do. Say the red is blue if they say so. Call the day night and the earth sea. Everything definitely feels easier and goes more smoothly if you give up on yourself."

"I..."

"But if you truly wish to be your own master, remember this."

Crockta extended his hand.

The sparrow, after staring at Crockta's rough fingers intently, hopped lightly and landed on his fingertip.

Holding the sparrow gently in his grasp, Crockta continued, "Even if the entire world points their spears and swords at me, no matter what anyone says, this bird is simply a sparrow."

The elf looked at Crockta. Crockta’s eyes were filled with certainty.

An unwavering core stood straight within him.

"Is that so?"

A wrinkle of concern that had lingered on the elf's brow smoothed out. His troubled face softened, and he smiled faintly.

It was a beautiful smile.

"I was dressing like a king but thinking like a slave."

"That's right."

"Now that I realize this, I must not only dress like a king but also act like one."

"Indeed."

"Thank you for making me see this."

The elf looked at Crockta, then at Zankus, Tiyo, and Anor.

The elf spread his hands.

Then, the forest parted.

"...!"

The path to Orcrox unfolded in a straight line.

The trees moved their bodies aside, twisting their trunks and roots to pave the way for Crockta's party.

It was an unbelievable sight.

"You are..."

Anor spoke, his face showing he might have realized something.

The elf reached out to Anor.

A branch above them descended. As the elf moved his hand, the branch caressed Anor's cheek as if it were an extension of his hand.

"You've come so far and suffered so much, child."

He then looked over the rest of the party one by one.

"I tried to find the answers by seeing you. Yet, I found none. But in truth, it wasn’t that I didn’t know the answers; I was simply ignoring them."

He looked at Crockta.

"Just like a slave," Crockta grinned.

"Now you look like a proper king."

"Thank you."

The elf stepped back.

It was time for him to leave.

"I came dressed as a king but, in fact, thinking as a slave. Yet, as I leave you, I shall leave as a king again."

His body began to fade.

All of the forest's flora leaned toward him.

The wind bowed its head to him.

The great trees bent their branches in respect.

"We'll meet again. The child from the north sends his thanks, Crockta."

And then he whispered something.

But no sound was made.

That whisper wasn't meant for them.

Anor's eyes widened.

Crockta, Zankus, and Tiyo might not have heard the words, but all the elves of the world did.

* * *

"The World Tree, the god of the elves, has withdrawn from the war."

"What?"

"I don't know the details. The elves have started leaving."

"What’s going on now?"

"Those who came on their own accord are staying, but those who came because of the oracle are returning to their homeland. More than half of the elves have left."

"..."

Adantadore touched his forehead and then began to laugh.

"Interesting."

Arcran could only sigh.

The whisper of the World Tree that the elves heard was as follows:

‘The orcs have not conspired with the Ashen God, and they are not inherently evil. Crockta is exactly as known, a hero.’

However, other gods were different. They issued a new oracle urging their followers to quickly strike down the collaborators of the Ashen God. They even criticized the World Tree for losing its judgment.

This was not the behavior Arcran knew of the gods.

It was all too human.

"Things aren’t going to go too well in Arnin either."

"Seems like it."

They had just reached Arnin, the City of Elves. They received the news before they arrived at Arnin, so getting support from Arnin was also certainly going to be difficult.

"Let's give it a try anyway."

However, the result was exactly as they had expected.

No, it was even more disastrous.

Arcran had to feel the same feelings he had been feeling all this time while sitting in the office of Enyanis, Arnin's mayor.

"Do you see that vest?"

"Yes."

"It was worn by an orc. He was the first captain of the Plains Rescue Unit, Arnin's pride and joy. He founded the rescue unit himself."

Now, Arcran knew who it was without being told.

"It was Crockta, wasn’t it?"

"Yes. And he is also Arnin's honorary citizen who exposed the mayor who mocked the citizens with a false mask, a notorious murderer, and vile politicians."

The mayor also continued to tell Arcran that the story of Crockta was included in the textbooks of the schools in Arnin. He was an honorary and model citizen representing Arnin.

"Most importantly, the World Tree has stopped the elves from participating in the battle."

"..."

"I thought it would be meaningless to bring up the matter in the council, so I brought you here directly."

"I understand. I appreciate your consideration. Thank you."

If they had gone to the council, eggs might have been thrown at him just like back in Chesswood.

"I don't know how the matters of the gods are connected to this whole thing, but as someone who has experienced Crockta directly, not as a mayor, I will tell you. He is not the kind of orc you think he is."

"..."

"I didn't even know who he was at the time. I was just a plains administrator. But as I watched him hunt treeters on the plains and help the humans and elves around him, I realized. That orc, even when he’s doing nothing, shines."

"Shines..."

"A person who illuminates his surroundings. I too couldn’t have become a mayor without him. Clueless travelers would still be losing their lives to treeters and a wicked woman."

Arcran nodded.

"I understand what you're saying."

"You can stay for a day or even try to recruit volunteers if you wish. But I hope you'll consider what I've said carefully."

"For sure."

He left the city hall without gaining anything.

Arnin was a beautiful city. As Arcran headed toward the expedition’s campground, he stopped suddenly in Arnin's square.

There was a monument.

It commemorated the day when the demons of Arnin, Elsanad and Elwina, and the vile Ilya were expelled. It also expressed the city’s gratitude to its honorary citizen Crockta, a traveler who became a hero of Arnin.

"I am an honorary citizen!"

"Then I am a model citizen!"

"You just littered, didn’t you! I’m going to report you!"

Children were playing 'honorary citizen' games, running around.

Arcran murmured as he looked up at the sky.

"I don’t know anymore."

He shook his head and returned to the expedition’s campground.

The expedition was camped just outside of Arnin.

"I'm sorry, I wasn’t able to gain much."

"That’s what we were expecting, anyway.”

"Thank you for your efforts."

Despite returning without any gain, Adantadore and the expeditionary leaders simply nodded without any comments since it was the outcome they had expected.

They no longer had high hopes for the elves. Although secular elves who did not care about the World Tree volunteered, their numbers were not significant.

"With things as they are, how about making a detour to Quantes?"

"Gnomes don't believe much in gods..."

"Still, let's give it a try. We need to replenish our numbers since the elves have withdrawn. There are many villages on the way from Quantes to Orcrox as well."

"Let's do that."

Even in the middle of the meeting, Arcran kept silent, lost in thought.

The next day, they turned their horses toward Quantes.

Just before leaving Arnin, they could see the famous Plains Rescue Unit and the treeters.

And among them stood a towering rock.

"What's that?"

Arcran stopped.

Engraved on the rock were words as if someone had carved them directly:

?A warrior does not attack those who have laid down their weapons.?

It was the rock that Crockta himself had engraved, as mentioned by Enyanis. Though Arcran had still never met Crockta, he now felt oddly as if they were well acquainted.

And the Crockta he knew was a splendid warrior.

"What are you doing? Let's go."

Others shouted at Arcran from behind.

"Ah, sorry."

Arcran grabbed the reins.

The march continued. Arcran glanced back at the rock, but soon it was hidden by the wave of the expedition.

Arcran looked at Adantadore beside him, then at the leaders and nobles following, and the numerous expeditionary forces. Their faces were stern, probably because Orcrox was getting closer.

Arcran closed his eyes. They could not stop here. They had come too far.

The kind of person that Crockta truly was no longer mattered. All the gods had declared him a villain. That was enough reason.

Everyone gathered there sought to annihilate Crockta and the orcs. That was more than enough reason. The decision was not his to make. It was for the massive, collective will of the crowd.

He erased Maillard, Chesswood, and Arnin from his mind. In their place, he filled it with the oracle, the expeditionary force, and the uncontrollably inflamed hatred of the massive army.

Arcran opened his eyes.

It was a brief contemplation. He returned to being Arcran, the faithful paladin of the War God.

"War God, bless our path ahead."

A warhorse that started its charge never stops.