The Young Orc Commander
Translator: Cinder Translations
...
Calem extended his tongue and licked his chapped lips. In the winter grasslands, the biting cold wind cut against his face like a knife, as if it would peel his skin away.
Even for an orc, such a cold wind was hard to bear.
Calem wrapped his fur cloak tighter around himself, took down the wine pouch tied at his waist, uncorked it, and gulped down a few swigs. The alcohol's warmth spread through his stomach, easing the chill in his body.
Almost there! Soon he would be back at the chieftain's tent! He shook the reins, urging his steed to quicken its pace.
Ah, soon he would enjoy sizzling roast meat dripping with fat and warm milk wine that could melt one's heart. Just thinking about it made Calem salivate.
He turned and shouted to his warriors, "Soldiers, speed up! The warm tent awaits us!"
"Whoa—! Whoa—!"
His subordinates raised their arms in response to their leader.
"Move faster!" The warrior in charge of guarding the captives whipped the lash down on those who were about to become slaves.
This orc troop, besides the mounted warriors, included a large group of captives bound by ropes around their arms, also orcs.
Compared to the warriors, these captives were poorly dressed, some bearing wounds, looking utterly miserable. Yet their faces showed no signs of resentment or hatred; they merely obeyed the orders of their captors, struggling to keep up with the speed of the horses. Orcs in the grasslands revered the strong, a tradition that had persisted for centuries. They would willingly offer their loyalty to those who could conquer them by force. However, once the conqueror displayed signs of weakness, they would not hesitate to turn their weapons against their former master—just like the changing of the alpha in a wolf pack.
Calem was a young leader of the Zarg tribe, tall and strong. Growing up in the harsh conditions of the grasslands, he had developed impressive combat skills and a keen mind. Thanks to these strengths, Calem gained the trust of Chief Abal of the Zarg tribe, starting as a bodyguard and gradually learning military tactics from him. When Chief Abal announced the restoration of the Zarg tribe's glory and the establishment of a new generation of the chieftain's tent, Calem was finally appointed as a centurion.
To establish the authority of the chieftain's tent, Chief Abal skillfully subdued the neighboring orc tribes, applying force against those who resisted. During these battles, Calem shone as a rising star under the chieftain's banner, earning remarkable achievements for Chief Abal. The chief was just, and Calem was promoted step by step to captain, and recently, he was elevated to commander of ten thousand troops. This meant Calem had become a significant figure in the chieftain's tent, with only five commanders of ten thousand under Chief Abal, including him.
Calem was returning to the chieftain's tent after conquering a tribe.
After marching for half a day, they finally saw the walls of the chieftain's tent.
This generation's Zarg chief, Abal, after solidifying his position, broke away from the traditional nomadic customs of the grassland orcs and ordered the construction of a city for the orcs. Initially, it was a small castle with a very rough architectural style, and then more buildings were erected around it. With the joining of newly conquered tribes, the population increased, and the area expanded, eventually forming a town. Of course, the ecology of the grasslands could not support large cities, and the orcs' production at this stage relied on nomadism. Thus, the population of Chief Abal's city fluctuated between forty to fifty thousand, housing the chief's direct army and the leaders of the conquered tribes, along with the shamans who were revered throughout the grasslands.
Around this town, various orc tribes still maintained the traditional nomadic lifestyle.
As they approached the town, Calem dismissed his army. The orc warriors returned to their respective tribes with their spoils and slaves. Traditionally, this would be a time for a triumphant ceremony, but Calem had chosen an unconventional winter campaign, and no one wanted to participate in such a ceremony under the biting cold. Moreover, at home, their wives and children urgently needed the spoils they had gathered.
Less than a hundred orc warriors remained by Calem's side; they were his personal guard, the same ones who had followed him since he was a centurion.
Calem escorted the remaining captives into the town as a gift for Chief Abal.
The orc town lacked proper planning; from a human's perspective, the layout of the buildings was chaotic. However, there was a wide, straight avenue leading directly to Chief Abal's large tent—yes, Chief Abal mostly lived in a tent to show he respected tradition, even though his tent was set up in the town.
Calem and his subordinates proceeded straight to the front of the large tent, where the guards welcomed him and conveyed the chief's orders. After handing over the captives, he entered the tent to meet the chief. After giving his subordinates a few brief instructions, Calem stepped inside.
"Oh! Our young eagle has finally returned to its nest," a booming and familiar voice welcomed him.
Inside the chief's tent, a large fire blazed, warming the space comfortably. A whole skinned fat cow hung from a rack above the fire, and servants were turning the spit, causing grease to drip into the flames with a sizzling sound.
Calem twitched his nose; the smell was irresistible.
The tent was adorned with exquisite carpets from the human kingdoms, and a circle of orc leaders sat on the ground, all broad-shouldered and robust. Only those who were trusted by the chief could enter this tent.
Seated in the prominent position facing the entrance was a larger orc than the others, the one to whom Calem was loyal—the supreme ruler in the eyes of the orcs, the unquestionable king of the grasslands: Chief Abal of the Zarg tribe.
(End of the Chapter)
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