Chapter 5: Brethus City

The Gates of the Meeting Point

By the third day, their bodies ached from travel. Their supplies were almost gone. But finally, as the sun hung low on the horizon, the city of Brethus appeared before them.

It was nothing like the orcish strongholds they had known.

Instead of rough stone and crude wooden barricades, Brethus was a maze of towering walls, metal reinforcements, and banners of a dozen different factions. The air was filled with shouting merchants, distant music, and the clanking of steel.

The Meeting Point of All Races.

And yet, as they reached the main gates, they found their path blocked.

Two beastkin knights—massive figures clad in polished armor, their feline ears flicking with irritation—stood before them. The insignia of the Golden Fangs, the ruling force of Brethus, gleamed on their chest plates.

One of them, a panther-like warrior with piercing yellow eyes, crossed his arms.

"No token, no entry."

Druth'Rok frowned. "Token?"

The second knight, a tiger beastkin, sighed. "You need a token of entry from a Brethus citizen. Or a noble's invitation."

Ghaz'Rok scowled. "That's ridiculous. We just traveled for days."

"Not our problem." The panther knight shrugged. "Orcs cause trouble. No tusk, no tribe. No tribe, no guarantee you won't start a fight."

Druth'Rok clenched his teeth.

Ghaz'Rok tightened his grip on his axe.

They weren't going to be turned away now.

Then a voice cut through the tension.

"I'll vouch for them."

The knights turned, as did Ghaz and Druth.

Standing behind them was another orc.

He was broad-shouldered, taller than Ghaz'Rok by a few inches, with thick scarred arms and a long braid down his back. But what caught their attention was his face.

Or rather, his missing right tusk.

An exile.

Just like them.

The orc stepped forward, giving the knights a sharp grin. "They're with me. Let them in."

The panther knight narrowed his eyes. "Eluex… you sure? If they cause problems, it's on your head."

Eluex shrugged. "Then I'll deal with it."

The knights hesitated. Then, with a sigh, the tiger beastkin waved them forward.

"Fine. Don't make us regret it."

The gates creaked open.

And just like that, they had entered Brethus.

The moment they were inside, Eluex motioned for them to follow.

The city streets were packed. Humans, elves, beastkin, dwarves, and even a few scaled drakkin moved through the crowd. The air was thick with the scent of spices, roasted meats, and unwashed bodies.

Eluex led them through narrow alleyways until they reached a small shop with a hanging boar's skull above the door.

The sign read: Eluex's Butchery.

Inside, the scent of freshly cut meat filled the air. Thick slabs of boar, wolf, and even something that looked disturbingly like drakkin flesh hung from metal hooks.

Eluex leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

"So," he said. "Who are you two?"

Druth'Rok introduced himself first. Ghaz followed.

Eluex nodded, his gaze flicking to their missing tusks.

"Exiles. Same as me." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What did you do? Kill the wrong person? Refuse to bow? Piss off the chief's favorite son?"

Druth'Rok's jaw tightened. "Lost my arm."

Eluex raised a brow. "That's it?"

"In our tribe, losing a limb meant losing your worth," Ghaz'Rok said bitterly.

Eluex was quiet for a moment. Then, to their surprise, he grinned.

"Well, you got off easy. I got thrown out for marrying a woman from another tribe."

Druth'Rok blinked. "That's it?"

Eluex chuckled. "Orcs don't like mixing blood. The Blood Root Tribe exiled me, and her tribe refused to take me in." He shook his head. "Now, I'm just a butcher. It's not glorious, but it keeps me alive."

Ghaz'Rok crossed his arms. "And you helped us… why?"

Eluex shrugged. "Because you looked like you needed it. And us tuskless orcs gotta stick together."

After sharing a meal of roasted meat and ale, Eluex leaned back and sighed.

"You two need work if you're staying in Brethus. Got any skills?"

Druth'Rok frowned. "I can fight, but…" He gestured to his missing arm.

Eluex scratched his chin. "Fighting's not just swinging a blade. What about guarding?"

Druth'Rok narrowed his eyes. "Who would hire a one-armed guard?"

Eluex grinned. "You'd be surprised. I know a place."

Druth'Rok's Job Offer

An hour later, they arrived in front of a large, lavish-looking building.

The sign above the entrance was carved with a symbol of a crescent moon and a pair of delicate wings.

A succubus brothel.

Druth'Rok stared at it. "You've got to be joking."

Eluex smirked. "They need security. Drunk nobles. Jealous clients. Occasional demon hunters who think they're 'saving souls.'" He patted Druth on the back. "You just need to stand there and look scary."

Druth'Rok groaned.

But it was a job.

And he needed one.

Inside, the brothel was a mix of luxury and temptation. Velvet curtains, gold-trimmed furniture, and the scent of perfume hung in the air. A woman sat behind a counter—a demoness with deep red skin, curved horns, and golden eyes that gleamed like molten metal.

She smiled, slow and amused. "So, you're the one-armed orc Eluex sent me?"

Druth'Rok folded his arms. "I can fight."

Her smile widened. "Mmm. You look like you can do a lot of things." She tapped a clawed finger against her cheek. "Tell me, do you scare easy?"

Druth'Rok met her gaze evenly. "No."

She leaned forward, voice like silk. "Do you blush easy?"

Druth'Rok tensed. "Also no."

She chuckled. "Shame. I do enjoy a challenge." She slid a contract across the table. "Sign this, and welcome to the Moonlit Embrace."

Druth'Rok sighed. But he signed.

Ghaz'Rok's Trial

Meanwhile, Ghaz'Rok had different plans.

He wandered through the city, past blacksmiths and enchanters, past mercenary groups and bounty boards, until he found a place that felt right.

A guild hall.

The sign read: Brethus Adventurers' Guild.

Inside, warriors sparred, mages studied scrolls, and rogues sharpened daggers.

Before joining, he had to prove himself. A test. One fight against a seasoned adventurer.

Steel clashed. Ghaz'Rok's axe met his opponent's sword. A brutal exchange of strikes, dodges, and counterattacks. In the end, he stood victorious.

As blood dripped from his knuckles, he took the guild's oath:

"By blade and honor, by coin and contract, I pledge myself to the Brethus Adventurers' Guild."

And just like that, he was in.

By nightfall, both brothers had found their paths.

Their old lives were gone.

But their new lives had just begun.