22: Good guy? (Thanks to Lord Chaos for the recommendation)

In various works of art and literature, orcs have always been synonymous with barbarism, and the world of D&D is no exception.

These strong, violent, and bloodthirsty humanoids are a plague upon Faerûn.

They constantly reproduce and gather into tribes, plundering everywhere with their formidable strength.

Wherever they went, villages were burned, killed, and looted, livestock were slaughtered, and any humanoid who dared to resist could not escape their clutches.

After a rampage, they would loot everything they could carry, then set fire to the ruins, completely erasing all traces of civilization.

The Amn Empire faces two major orc threats: the mountain orcs of the Eastern Troll Mountains and the gray orcs of the Cloud Mist Mountains.

These orcs descend from the mountains to plunder almost every year, and even once captured cities and territories, establishing their own regimes within Amn.

Therefore, in the eyes of Amn people, orcs are equivalent to beasts; their only “value” is to be enslaved or sent into the gladiatorial arena.

In Arthur's memory, he had seen many orcs, but only from a distance, or watching them fight from the audience stands of the arena.

He rarely had the opportunity to converse with an orc at such close quarters; at this moment, there were only four or five steps between them, separated by just a barred gate.

The orc sat cross-legged, his eyes slightly closed. Even sitting, Arthur could tell he was tall.

His gray skin, sharp tusks, and black mane all indicated he was a gray orc.

This was good news, as gray orcs were calmer and easier to communicate with compared to mountain orcs.

“I heard you took down four people?” Arthur spoke first.

The orc slowly opened his eyes; they were like a Falcon Earl's, radiating a wild and fierce light.

He did not respond, only staring intently at this uninvited guest.

Arthur continued to ask, “I also heard you can speak Amn language?”

The orc remained silent.

Arthur sighed inwardly.

In his previous life, he had dealt with all sorts of people—rich people on welfare, poor people feigning wealth, gamblers full of lies, drunkards who boasted without thought, inactive officials, and teachers dedicated to mountain education…

But talking to an orc, this was a first.

To break the deadlock, he took out the necklace.

The orc's yellow pupils contracted sharply, his gaze shifting from Arthur to the necklace.

He saw this stranger place the necklace on the ground through the gap in the prison door.

After Arthur finished all of this, the orc finally spoke, “What are you plotting, human?”

It was standard Amn language, which truly surprised Arthur.

Usually, orcs communicate in their own language, and only a few intelligent chieftains and shamans can speak the common tongue.

Orcs who speak Amn language are even rarer.

“So you really can speak Amn language, interesting.” Arthur smiled, “I need a guard, are you willing to come?”

“Why do you think I would fight for you?”

“It's simple, I have a pardon here that can give you freedom. The condition is that you serve as my guard.

Of course, if you like it here, I can also arrange for you to continue being a gladiator.”

The orc slowly stood up and walked towards the prison door, his heavy shackles clanging.

Arthur then realized that the other party was even taller than he had imagined; he had to look up to meet his gaze.

He estimated in his mind that the other party was at least two meters tall, which was considered burly even among orcs.

The orc came closer and closer to him.

Arthur saw the other party's bulging muscles, the taut muscle lines seemingly carved from rock, and the deep gray skin covered with scars of varying depths.

The orc bent down to pick up the necklace, then looked up to meet Arthur's eyes.

At this moment, only a prison door separated the two.

The guards and slave owners standing not far behind Arthur watched nervously.

“Thank you.” The orc said.

Among all the possibilities Arthur had envisioned, a thank you was the least likely scenario.

He hadn't expected this necklace to be so important to the orc that it would make him express gratitude to a human, whom orcs usually hated.

Arthur seized the opportunity and asked, “This necklace means a lot to you, doesn't it?”

“This is the only relic my mother left me.”

“You are very special.” Arthur remarked, “In my understanding, most orcs view women as property, and few care about them.”

“I was born in the arena of Askartra, and I don't know much about my own people.” The orc carefully put away the necklace.

“No wonder.” Arthur said thoughtfully, “So, are you willing to come with me?”

The orc was silent for a moment, then nodded: “You are also very special, human.”

“Haha, likewise. By the way, my name is Arthur, what's yours?”

“Number Seven.”

“Number Seven? What kind of name is that?”

“They've always called me that.”

“Alright, we'll talk about names later.”

With that, Arthur called out to the guards standing in the distance, ordering them to open the prison door.

But no matter how he demanded, the guards were unwilling to unlock the orc's shackles.

Finally, Bending Blade had to step forward and persuade him, “My Lord, why don't you take the key and unlock him outside.

For earth mother's sake, if this beast goes wild here, we can't afford it.”

Arthur helplessly pointed to the crossbowmen standing ready on the second floor, “He's a carbon-based life form made of flesh and blood, goddammit.

I don't think he can withstand a volley from those crossbowmen, and besides, your men already hurt him when they snatched the necklace.”

Bending Blade didn't understand the first half of Arthur's sentence, but the second half made him instinctively glance at the bandage on the other's waist.

Even so, he still insisted, “I beg you! If you need slaves later, I can give you a ten percent discount. No, no, twenty percent, how about twenty percent?”

Arthur sighed, said no more, took the key, and walked out.

He had originally intended to unlock the shackles here to test if the orc was truly willing to follow.

Once the orc was unrestrained and went wild, the arena guards could intervene in time.

Although a normal person wouldn't act in such a situation, an orc cannot be judged by normal human thinking.

So, Arthur had no choice but to bring this burly orc outside the arena.

Bending Blade thoughtfully draped a cloak over the orc to prevent him from attracting unnecessary attention on the street.

After walking a short distance, Arthur dismounted and took out the key, “Alright, buddy, let's unlock these jingling 'accessories'.”

“Aren't you afraid I'll kill you, Arthur?” The orc asked in a booming voice.

“Afraid, of course I'm afraid. But constant fear is useless. Besides, I'm not much different from being dead right now.”

The orc raised his hand to cooperate with Arthur, “Why do you say that?”

“Have you heard of Qingfeng Valley?”

“The Cursed Land.”

“Exactly, the Cursed Land. I'm about to take up my post in that damned place.

So, if you want to make a move, do it quickly, don't make me suffer too much.”

The orc said no more, took the key, and began to unlock the other shackles.

At the same time, Arthur chanted a spell, casting a healing spell.

The magic greatly surprised the orc, and he couldn't help but exclaim, “You're a shaman?

My mother said that the wisest orcs in the tribe can guide the power of heaven and earth. Those powers can both destroy the world and bring people back to life.”

After finishing the spell, Arthur replied, “I can neither destroy the world nor bring people back to life, but healing your injuries is fine.”

The orc touched his waist; the original wound had disappeared.

He hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand to Arthur, “Drax, my name is Drax.”

Arthur was startled at first, then also extended his hand.

Their hands clasped tightly together.

Then, Arthur cried out, “Wow, you're really strong!”

-----------------

At the same time, the slums of Wolf Den City.

Airo moved quickly between the densely packed, overlapping dwellings.

For newcomers, the intricate alleyways here were like a labyrinth, leading people unknowingly to their death.

Airo, however, navigated skillfully, turning from one small alley into another dark one, like a fish in water.

She didn't head straight for the black market, but instead came to a dilapidated house.

She carefully pushed open the decaying wooden door; the air was filled with a nauseating stench of decay.

But within it, there was also blood...

Airo instinctively dodged, the short sword, like a poised viper, poked its head out of the shadows.

The female thief quickly steadied herself, her eyes fixed on the area behind the door, dagger and hand crossbow already in hand.

Dark vision allowed her to clearly see the attacker.

She put away her weapons and greeted, “Looks like you're still alive.”

A scruffy, thin man emerged from the shadows, “You too. I went to the prison to look for you. They said you left with a noble…”

He looked Airo up and down, continuing, “Looks like they weren't wrong, you're living quite well. So why risk coming back to find me?”

“I always keep my promises. But now there's a better way, no need for fighting.”

“Tell me.” The man put away his short sword, leaned against the wall, and slowly sat down, every movement appearing incredibly difficult and painful.

“The noble who rescued me from prison, he can help.”

“To hell with him!”

“Listen to me, he's different, very different. He's the most special person I've ever met.”

“I make a living by killing nobles!” The man said sharply, “I've killed no less than a hundred nobles. I know them better than you.

I don't know what kind of spell he cast on you, but for me to cooperate with a noble, it's impossible!”

“It's not too late to draw conclusions after you've met him.”

The man shook his head wearily, pointed towards the door, and said, “Go, you don't owe me anything, there's no need for this.”

Airo sighed, took a few silver coins from the money pouch Arthur had given her, and placed them on the table.

“Go see a doctor, your injury can't wait any longer. Also, listen to me, don't act rashly.

Give me some time, he's completely different from those other nobles, he's a good person, he'll help.”

With that, Airo quickly walked out of the house.

-----------------

The Red Hook Tavern owner tremblingly placed a large platter of roasted meat in front of the voraciously eating orc.

He had seen many nobles and merchants bring orc slaves as guards, but without exception, those orcs wore shackles.

The owner glanced at Arthur, who was sitting opposite the orc; the young noble's eyes were vacant, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Originally, he had wanted to discuss with the young noble about having the orc eat outside.

Because with such a fierce-looking individual sitting in the establishment, many customers had been scared away, greatly affecting the tavern's business.

However, the courage he had mustered was completely eroded as he approached this orc.

He could only silently pray, hoping the orc would leave quickly after eating his fill.

At this moment, Arthur was not in deep thought, nor did he notice the unusual atmosphere in the tavern.

He was staring at a peculiar piece of information, trying to figure out why it had changed.

After the countdown disappeared, the information about the slave escape turned into entirely new content.

He remembered that this piece of information had a “follow-up” entry, meaning there was indeed subsequent content.

Blue Intel: You quelled a riot without bloodshed, and your good deeds changed the slaves' attitudes towards you:

Catherine Cromwell thinks you are different, but still can't fully trust you.

Joe Muli finds you interesting; as long as he is given the freedom to research, he doesn't mind following you to Qingfeng Valley.

Philip admires your good deeds and is very willing to follow you.

Newt is very shaken because you are very different from the nobles he has seen before.

Iron Shovel chooses to continue observing; he has lived too long and seen too many hypocritical people, believing you are just putting on a show.

Old Hutu only cares about animals.

Arthur put away the panel and glanced at the orc who was still eating voraciously, falling into thought.

After looking through the files of these six people, he finally understood why they could become slave leaders—each of these six possessed unique skills.

Catherine and Joe, needless to say, were probably the most knowledgeable and intelligent among this group of people.

Philip, who admired him the most, was originally a fisherman and later became a water bandit.

The file described him as utterly wicked and universally condemned, which was clearly an exaggeration.

Newt is a half-elf, and Iron Shovel is a dwarf; both are demi-humans.

In Amn, demi-humans are only considered second-class citizens, especially half-elves, who face severe discrimination.

They were sentenced to death for gathering in the mountains and killing nobles in Falcon Earl's territory.

If these two were handed over to the Evil Wolf Family for trial, they would surely be promoted and given noble titles.

The last one, Old Hutu, was a deranged druid, sentenced to death for illegally casting spells within Amn.

And Olaf's so-called ship riot also had its reasons.

Arthur had questioned many of the Barracuda's crew members, and most of them believed that the slave riot was caused by Olaf and his subordinates constantly raping the female slaves.

In Arthur's view, these six people did not deserve to die; if guided properly, they might be useful to him.

After eating three servings of food, the orc finally put down his knife and fork.

He patted his stomach contentedly and said, “I haven't eaten so much in a long time.”

Arthur brought his thoughts back, asking curiously, “I heard you were undefeated in the arena and earned a lot of money for your previous owner. Did they not even feed you enough?”

“We are different from those human gladiators.” The orc explained, “We are beasts. No matter how much we win, we only get some scraps.

They don't care whether we live or die. I only get to eat my fill before and after matches, and I only fight once a week.”

Arthur couldn't help but sigh inwardly: hungry for four days, full for three days, these feudal nobles really could rival those wicked capitalists.

“Drax, can I ask you a question?” Arthur asked.

The orc nodded.

“Since you know what Qingfeng Valley is, why did you still choose to follow me?”

The orc replied without hesitation, “Because you are a very good person.”

Arthur waited for more, but found that the orc had finished speaking.

“Yes, because I am a good person.” He murmured distractedly.

He really hadn't expected that merely doing what any ordinary person would do would make him be considered a good person.