Milk Powder

Translator: Cinder Translations

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The chieftain of the Zarg tribe, Abal, is exactly thirty years old this year, which is the peak physical condition for an orc in his lifetime. He has an exaggerated physique, astonishing brute strength, and a clever, if not cunning, mind. His long brown hair almost covers his entire face; while some orcs trim their hair for aesthetics or even shave their faces bald (making them look like rugged barbarian humans), Abal has never done so, allowing his body hair to grow freely, making his already robust frame appear even more imposing.

"My fledgling!" This is how Chieftain Abal addresses Calem.

Calem has just turned 26 this year, and for his position as a Warlord, this age is rather young, so Chieftain Abal always refers to him as a fledgling.

Being so young has also subjected Calem to quite a bit of criticism; many people secretly speculate whether he is the chieftain's illegitimate son. However, anyone who thinks about it for a moment would realize this is impossible, as the orc culture doesn't recognize the concept of illegitimate children; this term comes from humans.

Another downside is that, at the beginning, there were always doubts about his abilities. Of course, Calem's military achievements have gradually silenced these voices.

"My fledgling, come here quickly!" Abal called out to him.

Following the chieftain's command, Calem walked around the fire pit and approached the chieftain. At this moment, he noticed that there was a small fire burning in front of Abal, with a clay pot perched above it. Something white was boiling inside, and a stranger was adding firewood underneath; Calem didn't seem to recognize this person—was he a new cook for the chieftain?

"Look here!" Abal's voice boomed like a gong, causing the tent to vibrate. "I told you Calem would definitely win. That fool Babaka thought he could escape the attacks of the chieftain's warriors by relying on winter's shelter, but my fledgling did not play by the rules. He launched an attack despite the harsh cold, and indeed, they were completely unprepared, easily becoming our captives! Hahahaha!"

Calem reported his battle achievements, "Chieftain, Chieftain Babaka is willing to pledge his loyalty to you. As a price for his earlier disrespect, he sincerely offers you five hundred slaves, among whom a hundred are the strongest warriors of their tribe."

The chieftain was overjoyed and praised, "Calem, well done. Treat those warriors well and make them willing to serve us."

Calem pressed his hand to his chest and replied, "As you command, Chieftain."

Abal pointed to the boiling clay pot. "Calem, there is something very exciting I want to share with you. A clever little guy from the Grosso tribe— that young fellow over there named Aru—has invented a new food that can greatly enhance the long-distance combat abilities of our warriors."

"Oh? What kind of invention is it?"

Calem became interested and turned his gaze to the pot. From the aroma wafting through the air, he could tell they were boiling milk. He was puzzled as to why they would continue boiling the milk; wouldn't it just need to be heated a little before it could be consumed? For orcs, the best milk is freshly squeezed, still warm.

What was this new food the chieftain mentioned? Was it something cooked in milk?

"Hahaha, I want to keep you in suspense for a moment," Abal laughed loudly, and the surrounding orc leaders joined in the laughter.

Calem, who had just returned and didn't know the joke, wasn't angry; he could take a joke. He found a spot to sit down and quietly waited to see what would emerge from the pot.

The milk continued to boil, sending white vapor into the air, and gradually, the amount of milk in the pot decreased.

Finally, there was no liquid left in the pot, only a layer of white substance left on the inner wall.

"Chieftain?" Calem looked at Abal, puzzled.

"My fledgling," Abal pointed at the pot. "Do you see that layer of white substance? That is Aru's new food invention. It's called—milk powder!"

"Oh?" Calem looked back at the pot.

"Quick, Aru, let our Warlord taste your milk powder," Abal urged, stroking his own hair happily.

Aru carefully scraped the milk powder from the pot's inner wall, placing it in a bowl and respectfully presenting it to Calem.

"Please taste it, Lord Calem."

Calem stared at the white powder in the bowl, hesitating for a second or two, then extended a finger, dipped it into the bowl, and placed it in his mouth.

As soon as this white powder called milk powder touched his tongue, his saliva instantly soaked the powder, and a rich milky aroma filled his mouth.

The taste seemed quite good!

He picked up the wooden spoon Aru had handed him, scooped a generous amount, and brought it to his mouth, chewing it.

"Chieftain, is this what comes from milk?"

"Yes, in my opinion, the essence of milk is these powders. By using the power of flame to remove the moisture, the essence is retained."

"Chieftain, this is a great invention." Calem became excited. Milk is an important food source for the grassland orcs. Besides drinking it directly, they also make cheese, cream, and brew milk wine. However, these items are all difficult to transport, whereas this powder—milk powder—is undoubtedly very easy to carry. More importantly, it is particularly easy to produce. One must realize that during long military campaigns, resupplying can be quite troublesome. The emergence of milk powder is undoubtedly a significant contribution. Just imagine, after a long march, warriors can simply pull out a bag of milk powder, mix it with water, and instantly recover their strength without even dismounting their horses.

This is far more convenient than dragging a herd of cows or sheep into battle.

"Yes, I think so too," Abal said, happily rubbing his own hair.

Aru added with a smile, "Chieftain, if we add sugar to the milk powder, it will taste even more delicious, sweet and fragrant."

"Hahaha!" Abal laughed heartily.

"You really dream big. Even in the human kingdoms, sugar is a luxury, yet you want to mix it into the milk powder. However…"

Abal's tone shifted, and a glint of coldness flashed in his eyes. "That dream will become a reality sooner or later. One day, the sugar of the human kingdoms will all belong to us, just like their other riches."

(End of the Chapter)

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