"Forest of Fortune?" The envoy frowned; this place name had never been marked on Royal Tent's battle map.
"Many years ago, large ships belonging to humans appeared at the mouth of the Blackwater River."
Grum's voice was filled with deep worry. "At first it was just a few trading posts, but then their camps spread like mushrooms through the forest. Our scouts went there and said that those humans wore strange clothes and carried two banners, both with a crimson background. One banner had a pentagram surrounded by gears, and the other had black dragon patterns. Even more serious is that our distant relatives in the forest have been subdued by them, either through coercion or enticement. Those humans possess great power."
The Royal Tent envoy suddenly remembered something: " Alda, Glaeman?"
As someone who had personally clashed with the Northwest Legion, he was familiar with the two flags described by the old chief; the first was the so-called Northwest. The flag of the Customs Union, and the flag of the Northwest Legion, which evolved from the coat of arms of the Gleiman Family.
Grum nodded heavily: "The name you mentioned is frequently mentioned by the Forest Orcs. Those humans have not only taken over the forest, but they've also recruited warriors from the local orc tribes, and now even the edge of the plains is no longer safe."
The old chief pointed to the approaching fire line, "This is the third time such an attack has occurred since the Great Chieftain began his war with humanity. They come and go without a trace, never engaging our warriors, always striking stealthily when we are not paying attention."
A young orc warrior interjected, "These humans who emerge from the forest may not dare to fight us head-on, but they possess incredible patience and resilience. They'll lie in wait for three days and three nights, just to find an opportunity to burn down a pasture!"
The messenger unconsciously clenched his fists. He suddenly realized that Great Chieftain Abar was probably facing not only a war to conquer the south, but also harassment from the rear.
...
Black Worm Nest, in the dawn mist, the sound of orderly footsteps awakens this nascent port city.
The orc fisherman Baturu pushed open the creaking wooden window, and his pupils suddenly contracted—more than a dozen giant ships were moored at the dock, and a dark mass of soldiers surged onto the dock like a tide.
These were not the human caravans or caravan guards he was familiar with, but an army, a real army.
"The spirits of our ancestors are above," he murmured in amazement, dropping his pipe onto the muddy ground.
On the street, orc women frantically picked up their children and hid in stone houses.
Through the crack in the door, they saw squads of human soldiers marching in unison, their boots clattering on the cobblestones like war drums.
The brass buttons on the dark blue uniform gleamed coldly in the morning light, and the steel jungle of bayonets swayed slightly with each step.
Even more chilling were the steel monsters dragged ashore by mules and horses. The mysterious machines covered with tarpaulins revealed a grotesque corner as they were jostled: dark cannon muzzles and ammunition boxes bearing the Alda military factory emblem.
Without a doubt, that was a Cannon. Many people in the Forest Orcs had seen the Cannons of the human armed caravans, but the Cannon passing by now was thicker, bigger, and more frightening.
...
Stanford sat behind his desk, his fingertips lightly tapping on a newly delivered battle report. Outside the window, the winter winds of Lucky Forest howled, but the fire in the fireplace warmed the room.
"So, the grassland orcs have started to fight back?" He looked up at the dusty scout captain in front of him.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
The reconnaissance captain unfolded a hand-drawn map with several red markings on it. "The Ironjaw, Bloodhoof, and Greymane tribes have jointly organized about eight hundred cavalrymen. The day before yesterday, they attempted to cross the Black Pine Forest Trail and head straight for our border outpost."
Stanford's lips curled into a slight smile: "And then?"
The scout captain smiled and said, "Then they crashed into the Ironthorn Fortress, bleeding profusely. The Forest Orcs ' poisoned arrows, combined with our cannons, caused them to retreat before they even reached the walls."
Stanford got up and walked to the window, looking north through the glass. Three years ago, this place was a wild wasteland, but now a strong defensive line has been built.
"casualties?"
"No one on our side was killed, only two soldiers were grazed by stray arrows. The native soldiers lost five hunters." The scout captain paused. "As for the Orc Cavalry... we counted 127 bodies, and we estimate that twice as many wounded were taken away."
"Your Excellency, news has arrived from the Black Worm Nest!"
His secretary hurriedly pushed open the door, "A fleet has arrived at the port, bringing with it an army of 15,000 men—our army!"
Stanford's hot tea swayed slightly. He slowly set down the cup, his brow furrowed. "Are you sure it's the military, and not immigrants or anyone else?"
"Absolutely true, sir," the secretary said. "This army is under the command of Baron Andrew, and at least twenty transport ships are unloading Cannons and warhorses."
The officials in the office exchanged bewildered glances, and Stanford stood up, uttering a question involuntarily.
" Has Lord Glaeman gone mad? Shouldn't we be concentrating our forces on dealing with Abar's main force? Why are we sending troops here?"
The secretary handed over a letter. "This was delivered by a messenger; perhaps the answer is inside."
Stanford's immediate letter, with the Glyman Family crest clearly visible on the sealing wax, made him look serious.
Upon opening the envelope, the familiar handwriting of Old Ford, Director of the Political Affairs Council, immediately came to mind:
To His Excellency Stanford, Governor General of the North Three Territories:
Marquis is well aware of your concerns regarding the Black Worm Nest landing operation. Therefore, I hereby explain the strategic deployment—
Firstly, following a full mobilization, Northwest Bay has recruited 36,000 new reserve soldiers, 70% of whom are veterans with prior service experience. The Alda arms factory operates day and night, capable of equipping eight newly formed regiments simultaneously.
Secondly, although the orcs suffered a setback at Stone Bridge Town, their heartland of the plains continued to produce a steady stream of elite cavalry. Passive defense would only prolong the war, so Marquis was determined to launch a two-pronged offensive to completely crush Abar's war potential.
Thirdly, General Andrew's expeditionary force will be carrying out the grassland campaign. We expect full cooperation from all levels of the North Three Territories, especially in securing the supply route from Lucky Forest to Black Worm Nest.
Stanford's fingers trembled slightly, the strategic vision on the letter making his blood boil. He could almost see countless human soldiers surging like a tide into the depths of the plains, and Abar's Royal Tent crumbling under the combined attack from the north and south.
"I see…" he said softly, passing the letter to the officials beside him to read.
" Lord Glaeman is not dividing his forces, but rather doubling the size of his army."