The biting north wind howled through the fortress's crenellations. Stanford stood before the heavy city gate, watching the caravan slowly approach in the distance.
When the black carriage bearing the Alda flag came to a stop, a familiar figure lifted the curtain— Scholar Alvis's face was pale from the cold wind, but his sharp blue eyes remained unchanged.
"Old friend!" Stanford strode forward and helped Scholar, who was about to get out of the car. "Looks like you're doing well in Northwest Bay."
"That's right, I've gained a full 15 pounds since I left Black Worm Nest!"
The two walked side by side toward the fortress command room, the newly installed steam heating pipes on the stone wall humming softly. Alvis suddenly stopped, looking at the soldiers training on the parade ground —the human soldiers in blue uniforms practicing coordinated combat with Forest Orcs hunters, a rather surreal scene.
"It seems a lot has changed here in the year I've been gone," Alvis said softly. "Are more and more Forest Orcs willing to serve you?"
"I serve Lord Glaeman!" Stanford corrected him.
Stanford pushed open the iron door to the command center, and a wave of heat mixed with the aroma of coffee rushed out.
"Speaking of which…" he handed his old friend a steaming cup of black coffee, "how come you've come back with the expeditionary force again? Didn't Lord Glaeman arrange a warm office for you in Lakeheart Town?"
Alvis pulled a letter of appointment from his pocket. " A letter of appointment personally signed by Marquis. I am now the chief advisor of the expeditionary force."
After reading the letter of appointment, Stanford asked with concern, "When you were in Northwest Bay, did you encounter Gabella's pursuit?"
Alvis's fingers unconsciously traced the lines of his teacup, the hot tea long since cooled. "I've encountered them before. The assassin found me during an academic conference."
The sound of wind and snow outside the window suddenly became clear. Stanford leaned forward: "And then?"
"She almost succeeded!"
"she?"
"Yes, a female assassin."
Alvis smiled wryly, "Luckily, the Marquis was there with his guards."
Stanford exclaimed, " Lord Glaeman was there too! They're incredibly audacious. Has that female assassin been brought to justice?"
Alvis's expression turned unnatural. "Well... she has already... submitted to the Marquis."
"Surrender?" Stanford slammed his teacup down on the table. "That assassin who almost killed you, just like that, was pardoned by the Marquis?"
Alvis's expression became subtle: "It's not just submission." He chose his words carefully, "Now her relationship with the Marquis is closer to... or already is..."
The fire crackled and popped, and an awkward silence enveloped the command room.
"This isn't like the Marquis," Stanford murmured. "He's always been very strict about separating public and private matters. According to Alda's laws, that woman should at least be convicted of attempted murder, shouldn't she?"
Alvis nodded. "That's right. Theoretically, she wasn't pardoned, but considering her sincere repentance and the letter of understanding from the victim—that is, me— the Marquis Glaeman sentenced her to three years and four months in prison, which he personally supervised. In short, everything was in accordance with procedure."
Alvis couldn't explain it clearly; he couldn't talk to Stanford about magic or anything like that. Spellcasters were still a secret entity in Aldor.
As for the relationship between Frostine (also known as Coleridge ) and Paul, he himself was confused. He was quite certain that Frostine and Paul had no interaction before, but when the two mysteriously disappeared for a week and then returned, the two became very close. Old Scholar's experienced eyes could tell at a glance that the eye contact between Paul and Frostine was as natural as that between a couple who had lived together for many years.
At that moment, the door to the command room was pushed open, and Baron Andrew strode in.
"Your Excellency, please forgive my late visit. There are some matters to attend to at the barracks." He gave a crisp military salute. "The vanguard of the expeditionary force has arrived as planned."
Stanford rose to greet him: "Welcome, Baron Andrew. The entire North Three Territories will fully cooperate with the expeditionary force." He pointed to the battle map on the wall, "The granaries and ammunition depots are open to your command, and my men are ready to be deployed at any time."
Andrew took off his gloves and rubbed his hands by the fire: "The Marquis specifically instructed that we should thank the North Three Territories for their support. I think the Forest Orcs know their distant relatives as well as a scout regiment."
"It's all for the sake of ending this war as soon as possible." Stanford handed over a cup of hot tea. "If you need any support, just let us know."
The three sat around a wooden table covered with military maps, the firelight from the fireplace flickering on the papers.
Stanford tapped a vast blank area on the map with his finger, frowning. " Baron Andrew," he said, "while I am delighted by your arrival, I must say that it is unrealistic to think that 15,000 men can control the entire Great Prairie. Moreover, the orcish tribes are elusive; we haven't even caught a glimpse of them. Our only strategy so far has been to burn down patch after patch of pasture."
Baron Andrew said, " Let Scholar Alvis explain, and Marquis took his advice."
Alvis unfolded another yellowed sketch on the table.
" What Lord Stanford just said is exactly the crux of the problem. So we intend to wait and see."
His fingertips pointed to several winding blue lines. "Before the orcs invaded Aldor, many merchants went to the grasslands to trade. We gathered them and collected various information about the grasslands. One of the results is this hydrographic map in front of us."
"Did you notice? The grassland may seem boundless, but the number of suitable drinking water sources is relatively limited."
Stanford bent down to look closely and found that the map was marked with rivers and lakes.
Alvis said confidently, "Lord Paul has approved the 'Net Strategy.' We will build fortresses and set up cannons at key water sources. Then, with a company stationed at each stronghold, we can control a pastoral area within a radius of fifty miles."
"But the orcs won't just sit and wait to die." Stanford stretched out his finger and poked the largest lake marker.
"That's exactly what we want." Alvis revealed a sharp smile. "Let the Orc Cavalry abandon their mobility advantage and launch a full-scale attack on our fortress. At that time, each Cannon will be able to exert ten times the firepower of its field battles."
"We will adopt a step-by-step approach, and will only move on to the next area after we have completely controlled one area."
"In the process, we will strengthen our power, and the orc tribes that surrender to us will gain access to water."