Translator: CinderTL
The arrival of the Watchers quickly stirred up a storm within Windbreath Fortress, especially among the orcs.
One evening, after serving his new master, Yulga returned to his temporary quarters and began to shed the tight-fitting human leather armor that constricted him. Suddenly, a distinctive three-long, two-short knock echoed at his door—the agreed-upon signal between Orc Clans.
Brock, who was with Yulga, unbolted the door, and Kargak, chieftain of the Bloodclaw Tribe, slipped inside.
Due to the Imperial Army's rapid advance, Windbreath Fortress had not only fallen into their hands, but many orcs from other tribes who had failed to evacuate in time were also trapped within its walls. Those who hadn't fallen in battle had been taken prisoner.
Following Yulga's example, many shrewd orcs had swiftly aligned themselves with Prince Yuriko, including Kargak.
"What brings you here?" Yulga asked.
Kargak, clearly agitated, cut straight to the point. "Don't you know? Those Watchers have been rounding up orcs these past few days! We need to act now!"
Yulga had anticipated this. His muscles tensed, but his expression remained impassive. He gestured for Brock to stand guard outside, then leisurely poured himself a cup of cheap ale.
"Us?" Yulga scoffed coldly. "Speak for yourself. I have no interest in robbing human peasants." He preferred to target wealthy nobles like Bradley.
In recent days, under Earl Duke's orders, the Watchers Legion had established a military tribunal in Windbreath Fortress to hear complaints from local residents and arrest Orcs who had committed crimes against human civilians outside the battlefield.
After rigorous vetting, several Orc criminals hiding among the prisoners had been exposed. They were swiftly dragged to the main road outside the fortress and hanged, their bodies left on display for passersby to gawk at.
Panic gripped the Orc prisoners in Windbreath Fortress.
"Fools!" Kargak wanted to shout but dared not raise his voice. "We're all Orcs. To that Duke, we're foreigners. Merely setting foot on Aldor's soil is an unforgivable crime in his eyes."
"Murder, looting... those are just excuses. As if human wars don't have their own share of such atrocities! He'll use one pretext to eliminate a group, then find another. Sooner or later, the Duke will slaughter every last Orc stranded here."
Kargak's words made Yulga's eyelid twitch. It wasn't impossible.
"Once they get their hands on me and kill me, you'll be next," Kargak said, his voice filled with despair and madness. "And then everyone else in your Black Bone Tribe!"
"So what do you propose?" Yulga retorted. "Storming the Watchers' barracks right now? With our current weapons and organization, that would be suicide!"
"Aha!" Kargak sneered. "I detect cowardice in your words. Of course, I wouldn't be so reckless. But we need all the Orcs of Windbreath Fortress to unite—including your Black Bone Tribe!"
"Kargak, I can't drag my tribesmen into a hopeless battle."
Kargak thumped his chest. "Relax! Besides our own tribesmen, I've secured a powerful ally—the Arcane Order."
Yulga's eyelid twitched again. "Wizards?"
He remembered that Abal had once collaborated with human wizards, who seemed to be the very Arcane Order Kargak was referring to.
When Yulga entered Goruk's chamber, the shaman was grinding herbs. Goruk turned to face Yulga, curious about the chieftain's late-night visit.
Yulga sat cross-legged and briefly explained Kargak's secret plot, the leader of the Bloodclaw Tribe having just departed. Though there was no wind, the bone bells hanging from the shaman's wooden staff leaning against the wall suddenly began to tremble faintly.
After hearing the story, Goruk silently spread out the hot ashes and blew on them. "I understand," he said. "Let us hope the Spirit of the Steppe grants us some insight."
The shaman lit the fire pit and retrieved three animal bone tokens from beneath his robes, tossing them into the flames. Goruk chanted indistinct words as the fire roared to life. As the bones charred, they cracked with a sharp, scream-like crackling.
Suddenly, a plume of ash erupted from the pit, briefly forming a grotesque wolf's head in mid-air before dissolving.
"A dire omen," Goruk muttered, his gaze fixed on the fire pit, his Adam's apple bobbing. "If the Black Bone Tribe allies with him, they may be walking toward a disastrous end."
Yulga hesitated. "Are you certain?"
Goruk rolled his eyes at the chieftain. "If every divination came true, I'd have conquered the world by now! The Black Bone Tribe wouldn't still be trapped here, unable to return home."
Yulga scratched his head in frustration. "Looks like I have a lot to consider."
On the continent stretching from the Neron Corridor to Windbreath Fortress, a squadron of Imperial cavalry advanced.
Suddenly, Derrick Heller reined in his warhorse, raising his right fist to signal the riders behind him to halt.
In the twilight wilderness, a figure cloaked in gray stood motionless in the center of the road, the shadow beneath their hood so deep it seemed to devour the light.
"Sir, is there something we can help you with?" Derrick asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as his restless warhorse stamped its hooves beneath him.
The cloaked figure slowly raised their head, their face still hidden in the darkness under the hood.
"I have been entrusted to deliver a message," the figure's voice drifted as if from a distant place, carrying an eerie echo. "A rebellion is brewing within Windbreath Fortress. If you don't handle it carefully, you might suffer a great loss. Heh heh."
The voice sounded young, yet airy, as if the speaker weren't genuinely warning them but rather enjoying the prospect of disaster.
Derrick's pupils narrowed. He spurred his warhorse forward to demand more information, but the figure had already turned and vanished into the gathering shadows.
"Stop him!" Derrick barked sharply.
Several Alden cavalrymen immediately spurred their horses forward, flanking the fleeing figure from both sides.
But then, something extraordinary happened. Despite the man's ordinary gait, he vanished in an instant, reappearing hundreds of paces away as if the earth itself had shrunk beneath his feet.
"Witchcraft?" Derrick gasped, his breath catching in his throat.
As a well-informed nobleman from Northwest Bay, Derrick Heller was aware of the world's unfolding secrets. Certain groups, long hidden in society's shadows, were now daring to reveal their true nature.
Horns Bay, Gabella, even within Marquis Grayman's inner circle...
He abruptly wheeled his horse around. "Full speed ahead! Send a rider to Grayman with the main force and report what just happened!"
On a distant hilltop, Nathan lowered his hood, revealing his face, and watched the Austrian cavalrymen disappear down the road.
"Honestly," he muttered bitterly to himself, "whose side are we even on anymore?"
(End of the Chapter)
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