As he continues, a group of orcs and lizardfolk sit at a makeshift tavern, drinking and sharing tales.
"I heard one of the minotaurs broke a training dummy clean in half," an orc rumbles. "Just with a headbutt!"
The lizardfolk flicks his tongue thoughtfully. "Who would've thought that we monsters would have a day like this."
The orc leans back, his drink sloshing slightly in his mug. "Do you know the appearance of our king? He made all this, made us live comfortably. We should at least remember his face, we don't even know our king's name."
The lizardman shrugs, his scaled tail curling lazily. "No one knows the appearance of our king. There's a rumor, though that the capital city of the kingdom is so majestic that soldiers say it's like something out of a storybook."
The orc grunts, a hint of envy in his tone. "That's right. I tried to apply to become a soldier, but I didn't pass. Those who make it into the capital never want to leave. Must be something to see."
