Chapter 13: Rainy days and misunderstandings.
The elves that now lived freely within the safe walls of Vibhurik slowly started getting comfortable with their Orcish saviors. Malach had split the Elves into small pairings based on the skills they had, which was various, and had them begin to work within the kingdom. Cyrus and Hiase were sent to work with the blacksmith, having had experience making clothing they were put to work on cleaning hide and tailoring.
Urzul, the head blacksmith, was very friendly and very loud. She was a brickhouse, sepia skinned with blue eyes and white hair. She worked the forge with her son, Bumph, and her daughter, Szak along with the skilled Hide worker named Gruul.
The work was strange for them at first, having never actually prepared fresh hide, or worked with leather. The elves however, learned very fast. And due to their life of servitude, they were able to complete their tasks faster than their instructors.
The first few weeks the elves of Nual had lived in Vibhurik were a bit of an adjustment, but as the orcs and the elves began to understand each other, the elves began to feel at home. They formed friendships, and some even began flings and romances within the short period of time. The elves had begun practicing the use of their magic with the supervision of the Shamans as well, making use of their ability to cast flames to help around the kingdom.
Cyrus had continued to hear Syaket on occasion when near his statue, and after speaking with his other kin, he was the only one to have experienced that. The head Shaman, which he learned was referred to as Moiety, mentioned that with their shackles off, they may experience strange things as their magic begins to come through after being held mostly dormant for so long.
Cyrus' vivid dreams had begun to calm down, and his fear of Malach was replaced with a respect for him as he learned more about him from the others in the kingdom. The opinions of Malach were mixed, regardless of his brutal reputation most of his kin see him as soft hearted, but he is someone who will do what it takes even if he doesn't like it. But there is a lot of confusion around his behavior, before he took the throne Malach was said to be a happy, and eccentric person, but anything else aside from that he was told to ask Malach directly. Which made Cyrus even more curious as to why Malach changed.
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Today the season was starting to show its welcoming of the soon to come winter, the air was beginning to chill and the elves had their first rainy day within Vibhurik.
Inside the blacksmith's workshop, Cyrus and Hiase worked on softening wolf hide they had been tanning, pulling together on opposite sides to stretch the hide as it dried. Once they finished with that they sewed the skin to make it a pouch before they brought it to Gruul to smoke it.
"Mmph. Good work, this is a big one so it'll take a bit longer." They both stayed as they expected her to give them more work, Gruul crinkled her pierced nose and huffed. "Scram for now, more work tomorrow. Even you magical folks need rest."
Hiase somewhat laughed, "I'm enjoying this kind of work, and winter is right around the corner right?"
Cyrus rubbed his chin and looked around thoughtfully. "I'd hate to not be working fast enough for the preparations we have to meet before winter. Durlag mentioned before that it gets very bad over here."
Gruul had started preparing the smoker in the midst of their talking. "Aye, it does get pretty nasty. During the thick of the cold we all huddle in the mead hall, be times we do the longhouse as well."
"I thought Orc's were able to survive the freezing cold?" Hiase earned a soft elbow jab from Cyrus.
"Tch, oh we can. Everyone has their limit and the nature 'round here will push ya past it. Just cause we can endure it, don't mean we should or have to. Especially our pups, they ain't quite as thick skinned 'till they get older." Gruul got the hide smoking and turned her large figure around and looked down at the 2 elves she towered over.
Hiase's lips formed a thin line as she stood there a bit embarrassed, to which Gruul gave the girl a pat on the back, almost knocking her over. "Calm yerself girl, you can ask questions, aye ain't gunna snap at you." Gruul was smiling widely, her thick tusks pulling at her bottom lip.
"Right, sorr-" Hiase covered her mouth, having been told to quit apologizing so much. "Thanks?"
Gruul laughed. "That works girl. Now both of you scram, don't worry bout the winter planning, with the help of you lot we are doing just fine. More than fine actually."
Cyrus and Hiase said their goodbyes and began leaving the workshop before Gruul remembered something. She snapped her greenish gray fingers at them and motioned them back over. "Aye, I forgot. Can one of ya bring this to Malach'karh? Can't leave the smoker unattended, and he is gunna want it sooner rather than later." She picked up a paper wrapped parcel with string tied around it. Handing it to Cyrus as Hiase pretty much refused it.
"Oh, and make sure he tries em on and write down any adjustments he needs. Stubborn lout always gives me the run around." Cyrus took it a bit nervously, but accepted the task.
"I'll bring back whatever he says in the morning, get some rest soon, Gruul." She huffed at them both, sitting at her workspace as they left.
It was still daylight, and dinner had not yet been served in the mead hall so the streets around the market areas were quite busy. It was raining outside so Cyrus stuffed the parcel the best he could under his arm in his coat and opened his coat on the other side to try and shield Hiase from the rain while avoiding as many puddles as he could.
"Where are you heading now Hiase?" "Well, to the mead hall to help with cooking if they need it, that's where Shireen is anyway."
Cyrus hummed in response, his curly orange gold hair was starting to cling to his head with rain water, drooping over his eyes. He shook his head and hurried with her to the mead hall, which she arrived to mostly dry. He took a moment under the eaves out of the rain, slicking back his wet hair he checked on the parcel, his thick coat having protected it from the rain so far.
He waved at a familiar face walking by on their way to the training area, Arug, a strong orc warrior who he had met a few times. "Arug, do you know where Malach is?"
Arug wiped some of the rain off his ruggedly handsome face and clicked his tongue as he looked at the soaked elf. "He's training with the younger warriors." "In the rain?" Arug scoffed, a chuckle rumbling from him. "O'course. Battles can happen in any weather. Come, Arug will shield you from rain." He took a couple long legged steps over to Cyrus and beckoned him under his cloak which covered most of his large green body.
Cyrus ducked into his cloak, and walked with him, luckily, Arug kept his pace slow enough for him to keep up. The training area was a large enclosure on a grassy field, with an area that was filled with hearty pine trees meant for punching and kicking. There were also large heavy logs, massive stone balls, iron kettlebells in various sizes, bars and ledges for them to pull themselves up to build strength.
There were about 50 or so young warriors who seemed to be in their teenage years, not quite as bulky as the other orcs, but big enough to be seen as a real threat in a fight, at least that's how Cyrus saw them.
Malach had them all brawling each other while he barked over their grunting. They were tossing each other in the mud, punching, kicking, wrestling.
"War is kill or be killed. Strike to kill! We show no mercy, use everything we have and we keep fighting until we can no longer. Today we train with our brothers and sisters in arms, pull your punches, learn your weaknesses!"
With a cocky laugh Arug chimed in with a roar as he left Cyrus to sit under the eaves of the weapon storage which was a safe distance from the brawling. "As if we have many!"
This earned boisterous roars of agreement from them all, Malach gave Arug a rough pat on the back. Standing with him as they both observed the fighting. Malach wasn't wearing a mask like usual, and his long hair was braided down the middle and tied up in a high ponytail. He was wearing light leather armor that still fully covered the rest of his body.
To Cyrus, it seemed they were just going at it ruthlessly. But he caught a few moments where the warriors had stopped their attacking and checked on their practice partner, or withdrew their next hit when someone went down.
There was however a light green skinned orc who tackled his partner into the mud and looked like he wasn't going to stop hitting him. Cyrus saw the boy's fist rear back as the boy yielded, the pit of his stomach burned with anxiety as he flinched while watching. Luckily, Malach quickly darted over and kicked him off, sending him crashing into the mud and rolling. Cyrus covered his mouth, worried now that Malach kicked the boy too hard.
"I have warned you about this before Vayzek. A warrior who cannot listen is of no use to me."
The brawling was stopped at this point, the young reddish brown skinned orc that had been under Vayzek was helped up by Arug as Malach walked over to Vayzek, who growled and spit into the mud as he got up.
"You put me against a weakling and expect me to hold back just because he yielded? I'm strong enough to train with the older warriors and you know it!"
"Thykin is not weak. When we practice, we respect the need to yield and hold back. The older warriors know this."
"Bah! We are not wimpy elves. We are orcs! I have proven my prowess to you time and time again. I should be fighting stronger opponents! Shit, half of us should be fighting stronger opponents." Cyrus was no longer worried and was somewhat offended at being called wimpy, even if it was probably true.
Malach could sense that some of them agreed with him, but he knew better. Arug stepped closer to him and growled lowly near his ear. "Let Arug put him in place."
Malach was tempted, but declined. Looking at Vayzek, who stared him down in a challenging way through the rain, he crossed his arms and intensified his expression and tone. "If you want to fight stronger opponents without holding back, then fight me."
He saw the panic rise in him, the corner of his mouth curling a bit as he waited for an answer.
"No holding back?" He asked. Malach nodded. There was a growing worry he could sense from the other warriors, but it became overshadowed by their rising excitement.
"Malach will kill you!" "No way Vayzek will be fine!" "Who cares who wins? I wanna fight the winner!" The group of them were mumbling and picking their sides. "Tear him apart!" One girl roared, having no idea what side she was on.
"Tch. I'm not going to stop when you yield just because you're the king." His voice had the slightest tremble in it from nerves, making Malach chuckle a bit.
Cyrus was just watching as he couldn't believe what was going on but knew he shouldn't get involved. He chewed his thumb as he watched anxiously. "Couldn't this be done nonviolently?" He muttered under his breath, the rain didn't keep it from reaching Malach's ears but he paid no mind to it.
Malach rolled his neck and didn't bother moving from that spot, letting the others move if they wished. "I don't yield. Now come on, we don't have all day."
Vayzek hesitated before he charged at Malach, his ego was a bit inflated from the encouraging hollering from the group of warriors.
Growling madly with each powerful swing he threw at him, all Malach did was keep just out of reach with carefully timed movements. This pissed Vayzek off, he became more aggressive with his advances.
"Stop running from me you coward!"
Malach dodged another swing before he planted a foot behind him in the mud and grabbed the incoming fist, yanking him closer as he head butted him. As he was stumbling backward trying to regain his senses Malach dropped low, and tackled him from below, pinning him as he violently flailed around in the mud. Despite Vayzek's attempts Malach was much stronger, and moved him into a rather embarrassing position to further his shame of losing.
Vayzek was ass up and face down in the mud with Malach's foot pressing his shoulder down as he held his arm in a threatening lock. "You have 2 options here. 1, you yield and stop with your high and mighty attitude, or 2, you can keep your shit up and I won't show you any mercy. Make your choice boy."
He growled in frustration, choking on the mud. "Yield! I yield!" Malach dropped his arm and released him. Standing up he wiped the mud and rain off his face, flicking it onto the ground.
Looking at the warriors who were shocked at how quickly Vayzek gave up, they hooted and shouted their excitement over the outcome. Malach huffed. "I have no use for warriors who cannot listen. You will not only get yourselves killed, but those who fight alongside you as well. We will continue tomorrow evening, clean up and get to the mead hall."
He left Vayzek laying in the mud, Arug picked him up from the ground and smacked his back a few times before he stormed off, his pride bruised. Cyrus watched him with a bit of pity as he passed by.
Arug hooked his arm over Malach's shoulders. "Cyrus is here for you. Isn't he cute when soaked from rain?" Arug chuckled as Malach rolled his eyes and shoved his arm off his shoulder.
Arug waved bye at them as he left them alone. Malach looked at Cyrus who stared at him with a red face as he clutched his coat tightly, having heard Arug call him cute. "Everything alright Cyrus?"
Cyrus cleared his throat, patting his coat where the parcel was. "Gruul sent me with something for you, said for me to have you try them on, see if they need adjustments."
Malach opened the weapon storage and pulled out his cloak he stuffed in there earlier and plopped it onto Cyrus. "Come on, let's go inside before you get sick."
"I'm not cold, just wet." Cyrus accepted the cloak that was put on him anyway, following Malach to the longhouse. The rain was dying down, but it was getting dark. "Have you never gotten sick from rain?" Malach asked him curiously as he glanced at him.
"No, storms in Nual were usually the worst on the beach, at most we got light drizzles and we usually were kept inside." Malach tsked, hopping down the steps first he held his hands out for Cyrus to help him not slip on the stone steps. "Well, rain can make you sick if you stay in it."
Cyrus took one of Malach's hands as he stepped down, almost slipping but was kept steady. "Well, you are in the rain, have you gotten sick from it?"
"No." Cyrus tsked at him this time, enjoying this less tense atmosphere between them. He followed him inside the warm Longhouse, sweeping his wet curls out of his eyes.
Malach raised his brow at Cyrus. "I don't get sick, I can be in the rain." Another tsk came from Cyrus, he began to lead the way to Malach's room as he was followed by a grinning Malach. They were seen by Malach'karh's parents, who noticed they were growing friendlier with each other since Cyrus got over his fear of him.
"So much sass from such a small elf." "Humph, I am not that small, and you started it. 'I don't get sick', well I very rarely get sick, and usually it's from food." Cyrus somewhat mocked him and upped the sass, waiting for him to open his door as he stood there looking at him, both of them soaked. Malach shook his head, sucking his teeth as a grin tugged at his lips, without responding he just opened his door and thrust his hand through the doorway to urge him inside first.
"Well, I guess we will have to see if you get sick from the rain now won't we? So what did Gruul send you with?" As Cyrus walked inside he immediately went to the hearth on the farside of his room, tossing in a log from a pile beside it and ignited it with ease. He then pulled out the parcel from his coat which was wrinkled, and damp. He placed it on Malach's desk and went to dry himself off by the fire.
He had been inside Malach's room a few times, usually to bring things from the Blacksmith or bring letters from the front gate, being made into Malach's 'elf paige', as Durlag and Thera liked to call him.They found it exceptionally humorous to bring up the times Cyrus slapped him.
His room had a lot of Cluttered papers and leather bound books on shelves and in trunks, practically spilling out. Weapons and armor on racks along one wall, the other wall led to a closet where he kept his clothes. His bed was always a mess. If given the go ahead Cyrus would organize the room immediately.
"I'm not going to get sick." Cyrus huffed.
Malach huffed right back at him.
He started removing his gauntlets and tossing them on the ground in a corner before he opened the parcel, which had 3 long sleeved tunics in it. 1 dark green, 1 deep blue, and 1 red. "Hmm. She always makes my tunics fine, why would I need to try them on?"
Cyrus shrugged, watching the fire. "She said you always 'Give her the run around.'" Malach snorted, putting them down as he started removing his armor, which was more of a pain in the ass since he was soaked. Cyrus learned from Gruul that Malach didn't like being looked at while changing. Didn't stop Cyrus from flushing at the thought.
All he could hear was Malach undressing, and it was very distracting especially when he grunted. Cyrus said the first thing that popped in his head that wasn't about Malach's undressing. "Does that boy often give you problems?"
Another grunt and a heavy thud echoed in the room as he got his breastplate off. He then huffed, pulling off his gambeson and tossing it as well. "Yea, happens a lot with the young ones."
"Do you often have to fight them?" "Only if I need to assert dominance." Cyrus didn't agree with it, but he didn't voice his opinion.
Malach dried himself with a towel before he put on the first tunic. He knew Cyrus was holding something back. As he moved his arms around in the tunic he didn't feel anything off with it. "I know you don't like my methods."
"I didn't say that." "You didn't have to, but you don't have to be quiet about your opinions." "It's not my place to judge."
Malach snorted, taking the first tunic off and quickly throwing on the second. "You voice your opinions any other time, why not now?" "I know nothing about fighting, our cultures are different…So, I don't want to offend you."
"Offend me?" He chuckled. Cyrus' rubbed the back of his wet neck awkwardly and stayed silent.
Malach got the red tunic on, wasting no time in trying them on, his wet hair leaving dark spots on them. He let out a harsh sigh. "Could I have gone about it differently? Yes. But there are times where being kind and gentle is not effective. I gave him what he wanted, a fight with no holding back. If he hates me or fears me, so be it, I'd rather have someone fight alongside me out of fear, than a fool who will try to undermine me out of cockiness. Orcs respect strength, our strongest are our leaders. It may be barbaric in some eyes, but that is our way."
"I get what you're saying…" Cyrus seemed a bit stiff, it was clear he still didn't agree, but he didn't have to.
Malach huffed, noticing the red tunic's bottom hem was a bit lopsided. "I know you don't like it. We can change the subject. The hem on this is a little off."
Cyrus turned around and saw Malach inspecting the tunic hem, the red fabric was different than what he normally wore, Cyrus felt his face heat up as he thought about how handsome he looked in it. He removed his wet coat, laying it near the fire to dry and rolled up his sleeves as he walked over. He pulled out a writing tool and set it on the desk just in case.
"Hmm. Spread your arms and hold them up." As Malach did so, Cyrus lightly held the left side of the hem where it seemed to hang a bit lower than the right side. His fingers traced along the inside of the hem to the inner seam at Malach's hip, checking to see where the mistake was made.
"The hem wasn't properly folded when it was sewn, an easy fix. I can do it for you now while it's on you if you want." Cyrus hadn't really thought over his words carefully before saying them, embarrassment rising in him as he gave it more thought.
"Do I have to keep my arms up?" Malach somewhat grumbled.
"Oh, no you can drop them. I'll just need to grab a needle and thread." 'And sit crotch level while I sew the hem. No big deal.' Cyrus couldn't bring himself to say that out loud.
Malach dropped his arms, opening a wooden box on his hectic desk that had multiple needles and some thread. "Those work?"
Cyrus peeked in it and grabbed out what he needed. "Oh, yes. Thank you. I'll be quick." He quickly threaded the needle and as nonchalantly as he could muster, he got on his knees in front of Malach, cutting some of the stitches out to resew them.
Malach tensed up, looking down at Cyrus only for a moment before he cleared his throat and looked away, focusing on literally anything else.
Cyrus held the fold in the hem between his fingers as he sewed neatly, his wrist brushing against Malach's groin over his damp pants with each stitch. Cyrus internally cursed himself.
Malach's ears twitched as he heard the mead hall horn blown, signaling the time to eat. He also heard footsteps coming through the longhouse towards them, it was Thera. Malach didn't want to rush Cyrus but knew their current situation could be easily misunderstood. As Thera got closer to his door he softly groaned with dread.
"Ok, just a few more stitches then I can-" "Malach! Why aren't you at the- oh. Uh. Am I interrupting?"
From where Thera could see at the door, the angle of Malach's desk somewhat hid Cyrus, but showed enough of him that Thera could see this face near Malach's crotch while on his knees. Cyrus turned deep red as he saw Thera. Malach, whose back was mostly to her, looked over his shoulder and scowled at her.
"He is fixing a hem on my tunic…" Cyrus cleared his throat and quickly finished the last stitch and tied it off, breaking the remaining thread off before scrambling to his feet. "Yep... And it's all done."
Thera burst into laughter, whipping the tear from her eye. "Oh! Oh that was a sight to walk in on! I didn't think you two would move so fast!"
Malach rolled his eyes, looking at the hem he seemed pleased. He gave Cyrus a pat on the shoulder before he pulled a throwing knife out of his belt and chucked it towards Thera, the blade landing just beside her in the door frame.
Thera stopped laughing, mostly. "So grumpy. Get your asses to the mead hall, you can shine each other's knobs after you eat."
As she turned to leave she yanked the knife out of the door frame, waving the blade at Malach as she left. "I'm keeping this."
Cyrus nervously put the needle and thread back into the box. "Well, if there is nothing else."
Malach raspily hummed, "No, go eat. I'll be there shortly." Cyrus looked for the writing utensil he placed on the desk earlier, the mess of it making it hard to find. " Right… after I find that tool…"
Malach looked at the desk and lifted a paper, revealing the tool. Cyrus grabbed it and tucked it into his vest. " You know, you are kind of a slob." Malach looked at him like he was just slapped. " Excuse me?"
Cyrus just motioned his hands around vaguely. "It's a mess. How can you find anything in here?"
"I know where everything is." "Do you really?" Cyrus raised his brows at him and crossed his arms. Malach snorted. "Yes really. Now shoo. I know you're just itching to organize it."
Cyrus went to get his coat and pulled it on. "I am, that shelf is making me anxious." He motioned to the hellish shelf of books.
"Tch. They're put away, what's the issue?" "They're falling out!" "They are not." A book does happen to fall onto the floor with a few stray papers that fly away. Cyrus just aggressively points at the book.
"Tch. Clean it if you want, just don't throw anything away without asking." Cyrus picked the papers up and the book and set them on the desk.
"I'll start tomorrow." He sounded rather excited about it, leaving Malach's room. As he went down the hallway he let out a ragged breath and his cheeks burned once more.
Malach watched him leave, catching himself smiling as he cleared his throat and ran a hand down his face. His chest was a bit tight, his teal skin flushed. He was about to remove the tunic and change into pants that weren't covered in mud and rain.
His rough fingers rubbed gently along the stitching Cyrus did, and despite feeling a sliver of happiness, his blue eyes filled with melancholy once more. He changed his pants, and pulled on a cloak and made his way to the mead hall with everyone else.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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