TL: Etude Translations
As the thirty-person group headed south by land, they unexpectedly encountered a heavy snowfall while crossing a grassland. Fortunately, one of the mbers discovered a deep hole half-buried in the ground on a mound.
Once inside, they were surprised to find a spacious cave supported by stone columns, clearly showing signs of human craftsmanship. They also discovered sothing resembling wall paintings.
“This is an underground palace, or rather—a tomb, but it’s obvious that it has already been looted, completely emptied,” a knowledgeable team mber pointed out.
Near the entrance, there were nurous animal bones and traces of fires, leading Stanford to deduce that the place had been used as a temporary campsite, and quite frequently at that.
To avoid the blizzard, they crawled into this cave, covered the entrance with animal skins, and lit a fire. The cave soon ward up, offering much more comfort than pitching tents outside.
The long journey had left the team mbers utterly exhausted. They sat or lay down, so dozing off, while others ate.
Stanford, dozing off beside the fire, was awakened by the need to relieve himself, so he stepped outside.
Returning to the present, Stanford fastened his belt and reminisced about the past days’ experiences. He planned to breathe so fresh air before returning to the cave.
Peering through the snowflakes into the blurry distance, he noticed sothing moving.
“Hm?” There seed to be sothing stirring in the horizon.
Imdiately alert, Stanford rubbed his eyes and looked again.
Indeed, despite the obscuring snowflakes, he saw sothing.
Stanford quickly turned back towards the cave.
“Wake up! Be on guard!”
He shouted as he lifted the animal skin covering the cave entrance.
“What’s going on, boss?” asked Orkut, the team’s vice-captain, in surprise. He was a forr naval gunnery officer who joined the exploration team to oversee the use of firearms on behalf of the military.
“There’s soone approaching this place, possibly locals. We need to be cautious,” Stanford warned.
Hearing their commander’s words, everyone in the cave tensed up and drew their assigned weapons.
The team was equipped with 20 iron swords, 10 iron axes, 10 crossbows, and 6 matchlock guns with socket bayonets.
“We can’t stay in the cave,” Matthew, holding a matchlock gun with sweaty palms, said nervously. He was actually quite young.
Stanford patted his shoulder. “Listen, stay quiet for now. I’ll go out again to check the situation. They’re still so distance away. If they’re just passing by, that would be the best. But if they’re heading here, we’ll go out and set up a defense.”
After speaking, Stanford once again crawled out of the cave, leaving the rest waiting silently, ready to rush out at any mont.
“They are heading towards this cave!”
Stanford’s heart grew heavier as he observed the approaching group, about 100 strong, riding on many creatures that seed to be livestock. Could they be orcs cavalry?
It seed they might have been attracted by the reindeer tied near the cave entrance.
Without hesitation, Stanford gathered his team, setting up a defensive formation on the slope, with crossbows and firearms aid at the approaching group.
The other group slowed down upon noticing the movent on the slope, but one rider approached quickly to investigate.
The rider stopped a few hundred ters away, observed for a while, and then returned to the group. Soon, another figure—possibly non-human—rode towards them.
“Don’t shoot! They may not have hostile intentions,” Stanford cautioned his n.
Outnumbered, the consequences of provoking the other group could be dire.
Relief washed over Stanford as the person halted their mount at a distance, dismounted, and approached with open arms—a sign of peace.
“I’ll go over,” Stanford said, wiping his face with snow he scooped from the ground, the cold sharpness bringing clarity to his mind.
As he stood up, ready to approach the newcor, Orkut, his second-in-command, expressed concern.
“No, I’ll go. That’s an order,” Stanford replied, adjusting his boat-shaped hat.
He had learned a few native phrases during a previous encounter with locals, like “hello” and “friend,” but wasn’t sure if they would be useful here, given the distance between the two places. His team, more focused on returning to the Northwestern Bay, hadn’t been as diligent in learning.
Stanford then released his grip on his sword, mimicking the other’s open-ard gesture, and slowly walked forward, noticing that the figure was indeed an orc.
Orcs were typically tall, muscular, covered in varying lengths of fur (so as sparse as those of hairy humans), with slightly pointed ears and prominent canine teeth, especially in males.
As Stanford was contemplating a greeting in the native language, the orc spoke first, startling him with fluent Ordo.
After a brief mont of surprise, Stanford replied, “Hello, I didn’t expect you to speak Ordo.”
The orc laughed heartily. “A traveling rchant must know many languages!”
Stanford was taken aback, “rchant?”
The orc replied with a hint of jest, “What, did you think we ‘savages’ only herded sheep or wielded swords?”
Stanford smiled apologetically, “If I’ve given any offense, I’m sorry…”
The orc waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, human. As a traveler, I’m used to such misunderstandings. Maybe a few years ago, it would’ve bothered .”
He continued, “Let’s talk about the present. As I said, we’re a caravan and an no harm. We just want to take shelter in the cave. It seems you’ve already found it. Hey, how many are you? Hopefully, the cave is big enough for both our groups.”
Stanford looked back at his team and then at the orcs caravan, laden with goods and large yellow-furred animals, likely the legendary “pack beasts” the orcs bred.
“Well, Mr…”
“Finn, call Finn.”
“Alright, Mr. Finn, I’m Stanford. I believe the cave can accommodate both our groups.”
Finn’s face lit up with joy. “Great! Let go back and prepare my brothers.”
“Please do. Vigilance is a virtue on these plains,” Stanford replied, watching the orc return to his caravan.
Reviews
All reviews (0)