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Catherine could finally understand why the elven elders had always recommended her against adventuring.
Though she had transformed into an orc, she was now a rarefied beauty among orcs.
Catherine had been standing idly beside Ambrose, intending on learning as he chatted up the barkeep.
But before long, she noticed quite a number of eyes on her, making her uncomfortable.
Had something gone wrong? Had she revealed herself?
She furtively examined the other orcs in the tavern and noticed the issue. She was too stiff.
No other orc would stand stock-still like Catherine. Their bodies tended to splay.
Those seated in front of the bar would lean forward, propping themselves up on their elbows. Those seated on chairs leaned back and spread their legs wide. Even those standing would lean against a pillar or slouch against a wall.
Catherine, however, remained poised and elegant, as was the wont of the elves. Maintaining a stable core and behaving with propriety had been ingrained into her very self. Doing otherwise would have been a show of utter disrespect in elven culture.
Catherine believed that this was why others were paying...
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