I woke up hungry.
Like insane hungry.
Like my stomach was trying to eat my organs in alphabetical order.
I opened my eyes.
Mud roof.
Smoke.
Cold air.
Still baby.
Still orc.
Still completely screwed.
I was wrapped in rough cloth that felt like sandpaper and sadness.
I tried to sit up.
Failed.
I tried again.
Failed harder.
Being a baby is actually the worst class in any world.
I rolled over and crawled to the doorway.
Outside was the village.
If you can call it that.
Half the homes were just holes in the ground with wood stuck on top.
Mud everywhere.
Puddles everywhere.
People everywhere looking like they hadn't eaten properly in weeks.
A cart came in.
Everyone rushed it.
Rations.
A sack got cut open.
One guy swore.
"Stones again."
Another guy grabbed a handful of grain and just laughed.
"Nice. Premium rocks. We moving up."
I stared.
They were mixing stones into food.
This place wasn't poor.
This place was rock-bottom poor.
Then two big orcs walked through the crowd.
Better armor.
Better boots.
Not starving.
One of them shouted, "Tax collection in two days."
Tax???
From this village???
On what???
Mud income???
Nobody argued.
Nobody even looked surprised.
My new mum came out and picked me up.
She looked exhausted.
Like she hadn't slept in years.
But when she looked at me, she smiled anyway.
Then a voice behind us said:
"There's the lord's little mistake."
I turned.
Some manor steward-looking guy stood there with a smug face and clean clothes.
He looked at my mum like she was dirt.
He looked at me like I was less than dirt.
My mum lowered her head. Said nothing.
He snorted and walked off.
I stared at her.
An old woman beside us muttered quietly:
"Don't mind him. Everyone knows."
Knows what?
She looked at me.
"You're the minor lord's bastard. Not a real son. Don't forget it."
Oh.
Ohhhh.
So that's the build.
Not noble.
Not common.
Just inconvenient.
I looked up at the ridge above the village.
You could see the manor lights up there.
Real walls.
Real roofs.
Real food, probably.
And down here?
Mud.
Stone grain.
Taxes.
And everyone one bad day away from violence.
Then horns sounded in the distance.
Low. Long. Ugly.
Everyone in the village went quiet and looked toward the border.
Someone whispered:
"Humans are gathering."
Another answered:
"Good. We're done starving."
Then the same line passed through the crowd like a prayer.
"War is coming."
I sat in my mum's arms, tiny green hands, zero control over anything, and one very clear thought:
I got isekai'd into a famine village as an illegitimate orc baby right before a race war.
Amazing.
Truly elite luck.