Vash, Muzgu, and Yanakh spoke little on the way north to Narzulbur. A few times they tried to distract each other from their worries, but the attempts seemed to wash over Vash without having any effect, and he saw from his friends' faces that they felt a similar way.

So it was that Vash felt short-tempered by the time they reached the stronghold. Preparations to mine the stone were underway; orcs clearing the earth, while Ghorza, the new forge-wife, was away seeking extra labourers. As Vash was surveying the works, the chief's aunts, Yatul and Bolar, approached him.

'One of the wives you found has run off already,' said Yatul.

'Forgive us, but she was too wilful to be a chief's wife,' said Bolar.

Vash ground his teeth. 'She's stronger than either of you,' he said. Nearby, he saw Yanakh moving to interfere, and Muzgu holding her back.

'Excuse me?' said Bolar.

Later, Vash supposed that this was the point where he could have backed down. In truth, in the moment, the idea never occurred to him. 'You're coddling him,' he said. 'Treating him like a child rather than a true chief. He is in no shape to fend off any real challenger. You've been lucky there. And do you think any new chief would keep you around?'

Bolar was spluttering with incoherent outrage, but Yatul nodded calmly. 'Speaking directly is the only way to speak,' she said. 'We did not think you had a spine. There is something to consider in what you say.'

Vash exhaled and relaxed his shoulders. 'I do not wish to be rude.'

Yatul's face twitched near something that could almost be considered a smile. 'Better to be rude and have us live, than be nice and come up the hill to find our heads on spears. Come, sister.' She led the still-grumbling Bolar away. From further up the hill, Muzgu gave Vash a thumbs-up and a grin.

Once inside the stronghold proper, Vash found himself talking to Chief Mauhulakh.

'You did well with Ghorza, Archmage,' he said, grasping Vash's forearm in a firm grip, his smile wide. 'She is a fine orc, a fine forge-wife. Malacath has blessed us, sending you to help our kind.'

'I'm sorry about Borgakh,' said Vash.

Mauhulakh shook his head. 'I do not hold you responsible for that,' he said. 'I liked her, I admit it, but she was not happy here. I would not keep her against her will, though it means I owe her father a debt. Her path lies elsewhere, I think.'

'That's what I wanted to talk to her about. Do you know where I might find her?'

'She only said she was going to drink until something happened.'

There was nothing else for them to do at Narzulbur. The stronghold was prosperous and seemed on its way to being even more so. Vash imagined it with stone walls, ensconced firm and immovable on the mountainside. A place to be proud of. Vash related what the chief had told him to Yanakh and Muzgu, who had been passing on the news about Largashbur to some of Narzulbur's other residents.

Descending the mountain, they at first enquired at the Braidwood Inn at Kynesgrove, but the barkeep there said that Borgakh had found the place too quiet and moved on, heading for Windhelm. Vash braced himself for entry into his least favourite of the hold capitals. Despite the years that had passed since the death of Ulfric Stormcloak, and High Queen Elisif passing decrees that allowed the Khajiit and Argonians into all the cities in Skyrim, Vash still always felt a moment of hesitation when the guards at Windhelm opened the gates for him, and their eyes upon him as he moved about their city. It didn't matter to them that he was the Archmage, that he'd saved the world alongside the Dragonborn; all they saw was the orc.

And now there were three of them at once. Despite those full-faced helmets, Vash was sure there were glares turned upon them as they entered the city.

'Isn't that the tavern right there?' said Yanakh, pointing at Candlehearth Hall directly before them.

'Not for people like us,' said Vash, and he led them down into the Grey Quarter, where a door in shadow opened into the warm welcome of the Cornerclub, a place where nobody gave them a second glance. The patrons were mostly Dunmer and Argonians, but Borgakh was clearly visible at back table, drinking alone. Vash slid into the seat opposite her.

She looked at him, then up at the forms of Muzgu and Yanakh standing behind him, and said, 'Shit.'

Vash raised his hands. 'We're not here to drag you back. Just wanted to see how you were doing.'

'I don't know how I'm doing,' said Borgakh. In his peripherals, Vash caught Yanakh guiding Muzgu away to sit at the bar and order themselves some drinks.

'I should never have made you go through with the marriage,' he said.

'No!' said Borgakh, very quickly. 'That was not what happened. The deal was made. I could have run away then instead of now. Perhaps I should have left years ago.'

'I don't think the regrets ever go away,' said Vash. He sat back in his chair and staired up at the ceiling beams. 'Largashbur is gone.'

'And you feel it was your fault.'

'I do.'

'Malacath would not have wanted you to be our saviour,' said Borgakh. 'The orcs would never stand for that. Your herd the goats. Sometimes the wolves come. You save as many as you can.'

'You're comparing yourself to goats?'

Borgakh smiled suddenly. 'Goats are stubborn bastards.'

Vash found himself smiling as well. 'I'm still sorry,' he said.

'Of course you are. You wouldn't have got the job if you weren't someone who cared.' She took a long swig from her drink. 'I thought… I thought I just wanted out of Mor Khazgur. I thought a different stronghold would make me feel different, but it was the same. I feel like I can't breathe in those places.'

'You could join the Legion,' said Vash, remembering the suggestions Yanakh had run through for the survivors of Largashbur.

'They could send me anywhere,' said Borgakh. 'For all its problems, Skyrim is still my home.'

'Mine too.' Without noticing, Vash had come forward to rest his elbows on the table, leaning closer to Borgakh. 'What about the guard in Winterhold? We're trying to build something there, a community.'

'Will they let an orc into the guard?'

'They let an orc be their Archmage.'

'Fair enough.' She drained the rest of her drink. 'I shall try it. I have dishonoured my father, and my tribe, but I would do so again. It was the right thing to do, for myself.' She rose to her feet. 'We should go. The people here in this bar are good, but this city sickens me.'

Vash nodded, rising to join her. 'It's like a maze,' he said. 'And the walls are too high.'

Borgakh grunted. 'You understand,' she said.

On their way out of the Grey Quarter, the four orcs ran into a trio of guards, who seemed to be waiting for them. Vash could not keep back a sigh.

'Mind stating your business in the city?' said the guard at the front.

'Mind stating yours?' said Muzgu. Vash held up a hand to gesture restraint. Muzgu rolled her eyes.

'We're keeping the peace,' said the guard. 'And so when four well-armed folks like you are stomping around the city, we have to take an interest. That's our business.'

'Stomping?' said Muzgu. 'I've never stomped in my life. An insult to my character, that is.'

Vash clenched and unclenched his fists, watching the white clouds above. He remembered how easy it had been to kill the bandits at Dushnikh Yal. The magic flowed through him like blood. Often it seemed like not releasing that energy was the more difficult option. It was just the flex of an unseen muscle. Barely a thought, and he could lay waste to the world. If any of these guards had the same power, Vash thought, would they hold back from using it?

'Our business is concluded,' he said. 'We are departing your fair city.'

'See now,' said the guard. 'A simple answer. Easy enough, isn't it?' He stepped back and made a wide gesture to indicate the way out of the city. Vash inclined his head and led the rest of the orcs out of Windhelm. When they were walking across the bridge, Muzgu came up beside Vash to mutter in his ear.

'You could have taken those guys apart,' she said.

Vash ground his teeth. Barely a thought. 'The day is young,' he said.

On the slow snowbound way back to Winterhold, Borgakh ended up slightly ahead with Yanakh, while Muzgu fell back with Vash.

'Look,' she said. 'The first time I said you were starting up your own little stronghold in Winterhold, I was mostly joking.' She ran the candidates off on her fingers. 'You've got Dushnamub at the forge, now Borgakh in the guard, and you tried to get Atub as well.'

Vash frowned at her. 'That's three orcs,' he said. 'Hardly a stronghold.' Images of the burning remains of Largashbur flashed through his head. 'Besides, the non-orcs in Winterhold still far outnumber the orcs.' There was silence between them for a time as they walked through the snow, the soft murmur of Yanakh and Borgakh's conversation drifting back to them.

'Still,' said Muzgu. 'You know I wouldn't say anything if I didn't think it was important.'

'Talking back to that guard was important?'

Muzgu snorted. 'Course it was. Can't let them get away with that shit.'

'I have a place to offer them when they have no place,' said Vash. 'Should I not help them?'

'I don't know, I started this and now I'm regretting it. My point is, you're the agent of Malacath. You're not a chief. You keep acting like one, the other chiefs aren't going to take you seriously no more. They'll think you're just in it for your own power.'

'Whereas they rule out of the goodness of their hearts.' He kicked at a particularly stubborn clump of snow. 'I know. I'll bear it in mind.' They were coming down the hill into Winterhold town itself then, and their companions had paused to let them catch up. 'Maybe it's just been a long time since there was another orcish face in town, since Urag died.'

Borgakh must have heard this last piece, for she turned and said, 'I had heard of Urag. A grumpy orc, obsessed with books.'

'That was him,' said Vash. Borgakh opened her mouth to say something else, but Vash pushed on through, walking into Winterhold. There were enough recent dead in his head without bringing up an old one.

'Come on,' he said. 'Let me show you what we're building here.'