Louis gave the smith a tusky grin. ‘As you can see, I don’t have my coin purse on me,’ he said, gesturing at his makeshift kilt. ‘But if you’ll hold the sword, I’ll fetch my brother.’
The smith looked nervous, perhaps anxious at the thought of a second, bigger orc turning up. Or maybe he was just unaccustomed to an orc being so polite. Even so, he forced a smile and nodded. Louis handed the sword back and gave the smith a very firm handshake before wandering off to find Warwick.
Louis wasn’t sure why he was so pleased with himself for not stealing the sword. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have thought that was the sort of thing that deserved merit. He’d never felt the slightest urge to steal before. Nevertheless, he was reassured to know that despite all the new orcish urges, he was still himself at heart.
That said, he had spent the last hour or so doing some very un-Louis-ish things. He’d never shown an interest in swords before. He usually didn’t like to go out without a shirt on, let alone wearing a single piece of cloth tied so precariously he had to hike it back up every few minutes. And only two days ago, he was so frightened by his new power that he had sworn never to use it again. Yet here he was, indulging in a brand new body. He couldn’t deny the orc in his mind had an influence on him.
Perhaps it was simply down to how he felt in this body. He couldn’t imagine anyone suffering much anxiety when you were this big and strong. Or perhaps he, Louis, had changed in more ways than just his flesh. He had had an interesting few days, more interesting than all the years that had come before. He had fought, killed and proven himself stronger than he’d suspected. Maybe this newfound confidence was coming from himself and not the orc.
It didn’t take long to find Warwick. His stand was far from the largest, but he made up for this in volume. Just like in Westriver, Louis was able to track him down by listening for his voice.
‘Fresh poultry! Get yer beef! Fine wool, for you madam, perfect for spinning!’
When he found him, in one of the far corners of the market, Louis hung back and watched. If the men were still shaken about the strange happenings the night before, Warwick certainly wasn’t. He was doing a roaring trade, laughing and chatting with the customers, and clearly enjoying the coin he was making. Louis waited for a lull in the crowd -which took several minutes- before approaching.
‘Hello, Warwick,’ he said in his rumbling voice.
Warwick’s reaction was a beauty to behold. First, just like the smith, he gulped when he saw an orc approaching his stand. Then, when he recognised which orc it was, he collapsed back against some chicken crates, yelping, ‘Gods Almighty!’
Louis couldn’t help laughing. Being the youngest of the brothers, it was normally them scaring him. ‘Relax,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘Warwick, it's me!'
This time, Warwick realised the orc knew his name. But he still eyed Louis with suspicion as he got back to his feet. ‘You know me?’ he said.
Louis looked over his shoulder. It was one of the quieter parts of the market and nobody was looking. So he turned back to Warwick, shut his eyes and concentrated on his head. Slowly, gradually, he felt it deflate. His tusks pulled themselves back into his mouth. His beard disappeared back beneath his skin. His bald head sprouted tawny hair. When Louis opened his eyes, he had his old human head again, but it was perched atop his new orc shoulders. He grinned when he saw Warwick’s look of horror.
‘I’m getting the hang of this,’ said Louis. That being said, he found it difficult to hold this halfway form for long. After a few moments his head suddenly ballooned back into the orc’s, making him feel light-headed for a moment. By the time the world had stopped swimming, Warwick seemed to have most of his wits back.
‘Y-You…’ he spluttered. ‘You’re not a werewolf?’
Louis sighed. ‘That’s what I’ve been saying!’
‘Then… what *are* you?’
Despite Louis’s blasé attitude, Warwick seemed very ill at ease. This surprised Louis, because Warwick had taken the wolf transformation pretty well. Maybe it was harder for him when he didn’t have an explanation. At least people had heard of werewolves.
‘Don’t know,’ Louis shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it. ‘It was the same with the orc as it was for the wolf. I killed it and then it was in my head, wanting to come out.’
‘Can you still do the wolf?’
Louis shut his eyes. Slowly, his nose blackened and pushed outwards into a snout.
‘Okay, okay, I get it…’ said Warwick.
Louis blinked. His snout quickly returned to his broad, orcish nose. But Warwick still looked uneasy, staring up at his little brother that was now taller than him.
‘Anyway,’ said Louis, keen to be done with this conversation. ‘Can I borrow some money? I wanna buy a sword.’
‘A sword!?’ Warwick balked. ‘You’ve become some kind of demon shapeshifter and that’s what you came here to ask?’
Louis rolled his eyes. ‘You were all in favour of my shapeshifting when you thought you could sell it. You made me come here so you could trick me into becoming a circus act. And you were the one who made me use it to save the convoy. After that, I think the least you owe me is a sword.’
Warwick said nothing, but looked like he’d been slapped in the face. He scowled at Louis and said, ‘Fine. Where’s this sword?’
Louis led Warwick through the market, towards the blacksmith’s stand. They shared a very tense silence as they walked. Finally, after what seemed like an age, Louis found the right stand and greeted the smith with a smile.
‘I’m here to collect my sword,' he said, elbowing Warwick who got out his coin purse.
The smith stared at Warwick. ‘This orc is your brother?’ he said.
‘Uh, yes,’ muttered Warwick. ‘Adopted.’
‘Ah.’
‘Makes for an interesting family reunion.’
The smith laughed nervously and Warwick handed him a few gold pieces. Then the smith took out the sword and handed it, grip first, to Louis. He gave it a few test swings. It really did fit him perfectly, like an extension of his own arm.
After a moment, he caught Warwick watching him. ‘What?’ he said.
‘It’s like you’re a different person.’
Louis felt his face blush a darker shade of green. Had he really changed that much?
‘Listen,’ said Warwick. ‘If you’re not worried about this, I can let it be. I can’t pretend it hasn’t come in useful. But I want something in return.’
Louis was apprehensive. ‘What?’
‘I brought you here to make use of this new gift of yours. I have just the thing to do it.’