Chapter 085: An Old Soldier's Longing

That afternoon, Jess packed his herb-gathering cloth bag and tools, along with his warlock's bag containing the imp and a bottle of Shadow Protection Potion. He picked up a staff and set off.

He'd originally planned to visit Westfall to gather herbs, with a possible detour to look for murlocs and find out what Ursula wanted to know about their shadow magic.

But after talking with his teacher—especially after learning about the important Orcish exam coming up—the mana potions no longer seemed quite as urgent.

He'd need to devote the next month to serious Orcish study. If he didn't also need to practice magic, he wouldn't have gone out at all.

After getting used to traveling with the dwarf, riding quietly along the roads of Elwynn Forest alone in a merchant caravan felt strangely uncomfortable.

At dusk, Jess rested at Westbrook Garrison. He hoped to buy an unwanted weapon from someone there. One older soldier with an odd manner immediately demanded to know why Jess needed a weapon. Only after Jess repeatedly explained that he wanted something for self-defense—to frighten off the occasional wild animal—did the man agree to sell him one.

Jess followed the soldier to a tent some distance from the others. Inside lay a pile of battered old metal in one corner.

“Take your pick.” The soldier pointed at it. “Ten copper a weapon. If you find one that still works, consider yourself lucky.”

Jess searched for a long time before choosing a knife that looked usable.

Bare-chested, the soldier bent down and began sorting through the weapons Jess had disturbed.

“Where did all these come from?” Jess asked.

“Found them. Worn them out. Lots of them belonged to gnolls or murlocs.” The soldier turned with a smile. “Want an orc weapon? We've got those too. They're more expensive, but most can still chop firewood. Some might be too big for you, though. Maybe you could use a short sword or knife with both hands. You look about strong enough.”

His expression seemed deliberately mocking. Jess took the hint and shook his head.

He remembered how thick the orc shaman's staff had looked up close in Redridge. Seen from far away in the orc's hands, it had seemed like a pitiful little branch. That alone gave Jess a good idea of the size of orc weapons.

“Do you run into many murlocs around here?” Jess asked.

“These past two years, pieces of shipwrecks have washed ashore now and then. Waterlogged cargo and all kinds of things. It's attracted murlocs from the western coast, so we've had more trouble. Before, you wouldn't see murlocs unless you actually went to the western shore.”

“What ships were wrecked?”

“Warships, of course. Some from Kul Tiras, some from Stormwind. There have even been orcs.”

“Orcs?”

“That's right. Once, on patrol, we saw murlocs roasting orc meat.”

“How did you know it was orc meat?”

The soldier tapped his head. “I can recognize an orc's head at a glance. I'm more familiar with them than I'd like to be.”

NovelPhoenix is where the author publishes this chapter, and this copy was made without their consent.

“So you've seen orcs in person,” Jess said. “You're a veteran of the Orc Wars, then?”

“What do you think?” The man laughed. “I wasn't just in the Orc Wars. I was among the first soldiers King Llane ordered into the swamp. Hardly any of the men in those early groups made it back. I was one of them. Back then, I was full of anger and wanted nothing but revenge. Later I crossed Baradin Bay and fought with the Silver Hand at Hillsbrad.”

“Then you must have had a high rank.”

Jess realized his mistake as soon as he asked. A man selling rusty old weapons out of a tent didn't exactly look like a senior officer.

“No. I deserted at Hillsbrad,” the soldier said frankly.

“But where could I run? There were orcs and trolls everywhere, and wolves bigger than cattle. So I went back. I'd earned some honors before, and the new Stormwind needed people to rebuild, so they didn't execute me. I came back and helped with the work. Later, they called me into the army again to handle supplies. I've been a soldier for half my life. I don't know how to do anything else.”

Jess looked at him. It was hard to imagine what a man who'd survived being hunted by orcs in the Black Morass could have gone through at Hillsbrad to make him flee.

That battle had involved death knights and red dragons. Unless someone had truly taken part, who could claim they would have held their ground until the end?

Yet the veteran spoke of things that might haunt a person forever as if they were someone else's stories.

“What are you looking for murlocs for?” the old soldier suddenly asked.

“Oh, I'm planning to visit the northern coast. I want to know where the murlocs are so I can avoid them,” Jess replied. “If I'm heading that way, where should I go first? Is there somewhere I can stay?”

“Cross the bridge and head west. Follow the road for several miles and you'll see an abandoned village. Nobody lives there. There's a farm not far from it—the Furlbrow family's place. They grow pumpkins. A little farther north there's a fishing village, only four families. From there you can see the shore. You ought to find somewhere to stay along that route.”

Jess thanked him and was about to go when the veteran spoke again.

“By the way, are you going to that fishing village?”

“I'd like to take a look.”

“My wife was born there,” the old soldier said. “Come to think of it, it's been a long time since I've seen her. If you go, give her a message. Tell her I'm doing fine.”

“I can do that. What's her name?”

The veteran said nothing. He only watched Jess for a while, then turned and left through the tent's other entrance.

Jess wasn't surprised by the strange response. He'd felt from the beginning that the man wasn't quite right in the head.

And he did want to help the unfortunate fellow. But without the soldier's name or his wife's, how was he supposed to deliver the message?

After he left the tent, the conversation began to feel increasingly strange.

A fishing village. Murlocs. A wife. A veteran who wasn't quite sane.

Don't tell me I'm walking into some kind of Shadow over Innsmouth story.

There had been no bizarre fishing village in the game, and no Cthulhu-style incident in Westfall. There were certainly a few abandoned shacks along the northern coast, though.

If the village really had only four families, finding one whose daughter had married a soldier shouldn't be too hard.

Jess remembered the veteran talking about revenge and anger. Perhaps his wife had died during the war. Maybe that was what had damaged his mind, led to trouble on the battlefield, and made people call him a deserter.

If so, at least he could tell her family what had become of him.

Jess spent the night at the garrison's way station and set off early the next morning.

He'd heard of Furlbrow's farm because it existed in the game. But he couldn't remember any abandoned village or fishing village in the area.

Westfall was huge, perhaps much larger than Elwynn. The last time he and Gred had come here, they'd spent a full day and night just reaching Sentinel Hill, never mind Moonbrook farther south.

And on the map, the wagon road from Westbrook Garrison to Sentinel Hill crossed only a small part of Westfall's eastern half.

Perhaps the region held many tiny settlements he'd never heard of. Some might even have been well known before the Orc Wars and the opening of the Dark Portal, only to disappear after the orcs swept through.

By noon, Jess was getting hungry. He was wondering whether to stop for food when he finally spotted a farm.

Its crops had already been harvested. Judging by the dried leaves beside the fields, it had probably grown pumpkins.

Was this the Furlbrow farm the soldier had mentioned?

He hadn't seen any small towns or villages along the way.

“Hey, you there! Here to buy pumpkins? In October? Harvest Festival's already over!” somebody called from a distant house.

Jess looked over and saw a tall man in a brown coat.

“I'm not here to buy pumpkins, sir!” Jess called back as he walked closer. The speaker was a young man.