Part 22

“Don’t you ever laugh, Greza?”  Burana asked.

“I laugh.”

“I’ve never seen you.”

No, she didn’t laugh.  There was nothing to laugh about. 

“You couldn’t have been born so austere,” Burana said.

“Perhaps I was.”

She finished putting on her boots and then grabbed her pistol bandolier. 

“Guard duty again?  Are you scheduled every night?”

“The lieutenant has taken a liking to me,” Greza said.

“Well, you did kill at least twenty men.  As far as we know.  That sort of thing doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“I don’t need the medal.”

“You’re getting the medal whether you like it or not.”

“And now the Lieutenant’s jealous?  How petty.” 

She bid Burana good night and left their small, two-person tent and stood up straight.  She looked around the camp, lit up by lanterns and camp fires of soldiers that didn’t like to turn in early; which was most of the veterans. 

The veterans usually gathered and shared stories of past campaigns.  Some she had heard so often that she might as well have been there.  Almost always the stories were humorous.

She donned her helmet without bothering to strap it down and began walking the perimeter.  She knew the challenge code to say and she knew the camp well by now.  They’d been there a week after the battle and were allowed within the city in small groups.  Not surprisingly her name hadn’t come up yet.  Lt. Tezana had seen to that. 

Greza walked a distance away from the camp and kept her eyes sharp.  She had to stay alert at all times but even then she needed something to keep her mind occupied.  So, she ran a philosophical puzzle through her head.  If a boat called “the Sea Witch” was taken apart piece by piece, and the old pieces taken to a different location and reassembled slowly over time, does the boat with all new pieces cease to be the same boat?  Is the boat with all the old pieces the true boat and the new one false?  Are they both the Sea Witch?  If they are not both authentic Sea Witches, at what point does one boat stop being the Sea Witch and the other start? 

She ran this puzzle all through her mind attaching it to different scenarios and objects. 

Around midnight she heard a noise and stopped.  Her ears quickly picked up the direction and she cautiously moved that way. 

It was a group of fifteen riders heading away from the camp and toward the city.  She stepped out into the road. 

“Halt and identify yourself,” she said. 

The riders halted.  In the moonlight away from the fires and lanterns of camp she saw that it was a group of mostly civilians with a few Chimera men in armor.  Some of them were women in voluminous dresses and elaborate hairstyles.  For a second she wished she could have dresses and hair like that and suddenly felt rather inadequate in comparison, like a weed compared to a flower. 

“What’s this now?”  One of the women said in a nasal voice. 

One of the Chimera men rode up.  As he got closer she saw that it was unmistakably Duke Verin himself.  She stood straighter and tried not to look nervous.

“I’m the Duke, soldier.  I can vouch for these people,” he said. 

“Of course, my Duke,” she said and hastily got out of the way. 

He didn’t seem to recognize her from the library.  Perhaps it was the helmet or perhaps she hadn’t been important enough to remember. 

“Is that an Ork girl?”  One of the civilian women asked. 

“I hear Ork females do the same work as the men.  Can you believe that?”

“Orks are horrid creatures prone to ignorance and brutality.”

“Simple creatures only understand survival and violence,” a man said. 

Her hand tightened on the butt of her pistol as she held her tongue.  She was used to such insults from her masters, but not since she had become a free woman and had joined the ranks of the Chimera Company. A free woman did not have to put up with insults such as this.

“Leave the creature alone,” another man said. 

“Hold on, I want to ask her something.”

One of the women rode closer to her and leaned toward her.  She had thick locks of blond hair and skin as white as ivory.  Her dark red dress clung tight to her body until it reached her hips where it expanded into huge proportions. Gold buttons went up and down the front of the dress in parallel rows.

“Ork girl, some philosophers nowadays are saying that Orks are just as intelligent as any other race: that it’s their upbringing that determines their behavioral violent lives. Tell me, would you agree with this statement?”

“Yes,” Greza said.

The woman laughed.

“Such an eloquent statement infused with undeniable evidence!”  The woman said to the laughter of the other civilians. 

Greza looked to the Duke to see if he’d stop these insults.  He was sat silently by and watched with humorless eyes. 

“Ork girl, can you support your bold statement?”  The woman asked.

“Yes,” Greza said. 

“So direct!”

“You ask direct questions and I’ll give you direct answers,” Greza said.  “If you want something more elaborate I suggest you ask a more open ended question.  As to the question of whether Orks are violent because of birth or upbringing I will say that it was not Ork society that taught me to be violent, but Imperial nobility, the ones that claim civilization that taught me to be a savage.  As Denaria, the mystic philosopher of Old Alasatra wrote, is it not the simple person that loves liberty and peace and the governments of the aristocracy that want chaos and war?”

The woman looked at her with confusion all over her face.  She glanced back to her fellow nobles for support but they were as confused as she was. 

The woman then turned to the Duke. 

“You let all your soldiers treat nobility with such insolence?” 

“You asked her a question.  She gave you an answer,” Duke Verin said with little interest.  “I fail to see the insolence.”

The woman turned her attention back to Greza. 

“Remember your place, Ork.  You may pretend at learning and culture, but you’re just a green skinned brute like all your kind.  You’re a common soldier and will never accomplish anything of renown.  You’ll die unremembered and unimportant.”

The nobles all laughed and rode off. 

She wanted to punch the woman and all her friends in the face.  They didn’t care that she was educated.  They only saw an Ork and no matter what she did, she’d never change their minds.  They were set in their ignorance. 

And to her own frustration, the woman’s words stung.  All her life she had been called a brute.  All her life she had struggled to learn all she could and it seemed that no matter how educated she became, she’d never rise above the status of a barbarian animal and slave. 

She watched the group ride off toward the city and all she could do was stand there and smolder.  It was the fact that she had no power to change any of it that angered her the most.

As a slave she knew exactly what it was like to not have any power.  She had coped with it and lived.  But now that she was free she found it intolerable.  She was a free woman with every right and privilege that entailed; just like anybody else.

And the Duke had just sat there and let it all happen.  He allowed them to insult one of his own soldiers.  Had all the good feelings she had toward him been misplaced?  If he was as truly noble as she had thought, then shouldn’t he have come to her rescue? 

Important men like Verin rescued damsels and ladies.  Greza was no lady.  She was and always would be “just an Ork.” 

She clinched her fist and punched the nearest tree.  The bark shattered and flew in all directions and the frail, small tree fell to the ground. 

“Easy, soldier,” Duke Verin’s voice said from behind her. 

She instantly straightened up and stood at attention. 

“At ease,” he said with a small wave of his hand.  “What’s your name?”

“Greza.”

“Ah, yes.  I remember you from the library.  You seem upset.”

“No, my Duke.”

“The tree would say otherwise.” 

“It’s nothing, my Duke.”

“Did you let that woman’s words get through your armor?”

“No, my Duke. You shouldn’t concern yourself with a simple grunt like me.”

“I don’t believe for a second that you’re simple.”

She didn’t know what to say so just nodded. Was that a compliment?  What did he know of her anyway?  Perhaps she was simple.

Duke Verin was watching her with calm but intense eyes.  He held his emotions in check but one look and she saw that underneath his frozen lake was a sea teaming with passionate thoughts.  She knew he was studying her but she couldn't tell at all what conclusions he was making.
It was as if he saw right through her.
“You must ignore, small minded people, Greza. You're better than them.  Good work, continue on.”

He then rode off to catch up with the others. 

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him approach.  Now she felt like a barbaric imbecile. 

The woman’s words repeated themselves over and over again in her head all through her patrol. 

When she was relieved she went back to her tent and crawled into bed. 

She was still angry when she awoke in the morning.