Bignum looked down at Richard's plate, grabbed a chunk of meat, and bit into it without hesitation.
Beside them, the brawl only got worse.
Punches landed. Kicks thudded. Someone got headbutted so hard the table shook. A mug flew past and shattered somewhere behind Richard.
Bignum didn't even glance.
He chewed forcefully and focused like someone's gonna snatch his meat.
Richard stared at him, "…You're not even going to react?"
"No," Bignum said. "They will stop when tired."
"…Or dead."
"Also that."
Richard quietly slid farther down the bench—away from the chaos.
One orc got thrown across the spot he just left.
"…Good decision," Richard muttered, settling at the far end.
Then—
A voice cut through the noise.
Low. Rough. Almost a growl.
"Who permits you to fight in this place…you fools?"
It didn't sound loud.
But it carried.
Some heads turned.
Most didn't.
The brawl continued.
The owner of the voice stepped forward.
An old orc.
Hunched back. Hood tattered. One tusk broken. Around his neck hung small skulls—different sizes, different shapes, clicking softly as he moved. A staff rested in his hand.
He stopped, waited.
Yet no one listened.
He sighed.
Then—
He drove his staff into the ground.
The crack echoed.
Slowly, his back straightened.
And he grew.
Not just taller in body—but also in presence.
The air around him shifted.
Then he stepped in.
Fast.
Too fast for his age.
He grabbed one orc by the hair and tossed him aside like a sack. The orc tried to stood up just to be kicked in the face and dropped instantly.
Another tried to swing—caught by the shoulder, punched straight down, then thrown over two unconscious bodies.
One by one—
The troublemakers were picked, dropped, stacked.
Like someone cleaning up spilled trash.
Within seconds, the brawl ended.
Only groans remained.
The old orc clapped his hands together, dust falling off.
Then just as quickly—
He hunched again.
Picked up his staff.
And turned to leave as if nothing happened.
Then his eyes caught Richard.
"…Half-breed," he said, voice low again. "What are you doing here in the orc camp? You do not belong."
Richard straightened slightly.
"…I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know where my camp is."
The old orc frowned.
Before he could speak—
Bignum raised his hand slightly. "Half-breed telling truth, Elder Ozbull."
Ozbull looked at Richard again. Longer this time.
Then at Bignum.
"…Escort him back."
Bignum nodded. "Where?"
"Human camp."
Richard stood up—
And winced.
Pain shot through his shoulder again.
"Wait," Ozbull said.
Richard froze.
The old orc walked toward him slowly.
Then placed his large hand on Richard's injured shoulder.
"Stay still."
The hand glowed faintly.
Then—
Pain exploded.
"—Ah—!"
It felt like his bones were being crushed, reshaped, forced back into place.
"I said stay still," Ozbull said firmly.
Richard clenched his teeth hard.
Didn't move.
Cracks echoed faintly under the skin.
Then—
The pain faded. Slowly.
Until it was gone.
Ozbull pulled his hand away.
"Done. Go back to where you belong."
Richard blinked, moving his shoulder carefully.
No pain.
"…That's… actually amazing," he said. "Thanks, Mr. Ozbull."
The old orc didn't answer.
Didn't even look back.
He just walked away.
Bignum stood. "Let's go."
Richard rolled his shoulder once more.
"…He's kind of grumpy."
"He is old," Bignum replied.
"…Fair enough."
They left the tent, noise fading behind them, and walked toward another section of the camp.
Soon, the surroundings changed.
Cleaner.
More organized.
Tents aligned properly. Paths clearer. Fewer broken things lying around.
Human camp.
"…Wow," Richard muttered. "These people really like order."
Before Bignum could answer—
A man rushed toward them.
"Ruok!" he called out. "Where have you been? I thought you were dead!"
Richard blinked.
"…Ruok?"
Bignum frowned. "He is not Ruok. His name is Richard."
The man stopped in front of him, confused. "Richard? What are you talking about? Your name is Ruok. We grew up together. You remember, right?"
Richard hesitated.
"…I don't," he said honestly. "I don't remember anything."
The man frowned, then quickly pulled out a dog tag from under his armor.
"Look," he said, showing it. "Same insignia. Elmport."
Richard instinctively reached under his own armor.
Pulled out a tag.
Same mark.
He stared at it.
"…So my name is Ruok," he said slowly.
Bignum chuckled. "Name became worse."
"…Thanks," Richard muttered.
The man ignored Bignum. "How did you forget everything?"
Richard shrugged slightly. "My head was hit by something during the fight."
The man nodded, concerned. "Come. Let's get you checked."
Richard raised a hand. "You go ahead. I'll just… talk to Bignum for a second."
The man glanced at the orc, hesitation clear.
"…You shouldn't remember their names," he said quietly. "We don't know what will happen. Knowing people here…"
He paused.
Looked at Bignum.
"…It only leads to pain."
Then he turned and walked back toward the camp.
Silence settled.
Bignum spoke first.
"He is right," he said. "Knowing others here… like knowing dead people."
Richard looked at him.
Then nodded slowly.
"…Still," he said, "nice meeting you."
Bignum gave a small grunt. "You too… Little Dick."
Richard froze, "…What did you just call me?"
Bignum looked at him, confused. "Your name."
"No, it's not—"
"Ruok," Bignum said. "In elven tongue… means little devil."
Richard blinked.
"…Seriously?"
"Yes."
"…That's actually a worse combination," Richard admitted.
Bignum nodded once. "I go now. Take care, Little Dick."
Richard sighed.
"…Yeah. You too."
Bignum turned and walked back toward the orc camp, not looking back.
Richard watched him go.
Then turned toward the human camp.
"…Ruok, huh."
He looked at the dog tag again.
"…Guess that's me now."
Then he stepped forward.