You sat uneasily on a rough stone, your gaze fixed on Kalla as she prepared for battle, her movements swift and practiced. The unease gnawing at you had settled in your chest, a familiar feeling whenever you found yourself in the heart of Orcish lands. Kalla, your wife, and the formidable queen of the Orcs, radiated power as she readied her weapons, the weight of her authority undeniable.

Just an hour ago, one of her warriors had insulted you, mocking your presence among their kind. The insult had barely left his lips before Kalla had spun around, her eyes blazing with fury. The entire camp had fallen silent as she stepped between you and the offending Orc, her presence commanding immediate respect. She didn’t need to say a word for the message to be clear, no one disrespected you, no matter where you came from.

As you watched her now, the tension from the earlier confrontation still lingered. Kalla’s fierce loyalty and protection were evident, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider. Her world was one of strength and respect, and while she fought to defend your place in it, you wondered if you would ever fully be accepted.