Diversion
Translator: Cinder Translations
...
"Look! That's a human village."
Gardi pointed excitedly at the distant village.
The village was home to a few dozen households, and it was evening with smoke rising from chimneys in every house.
"It really is different from the grasslands!" Uen responded from beside him. "Look at that smoke, humans are starting fires to cook."
Gardi grinned widely. "If I remember correctly, this should be your first time in human territory, right?"
Uen nodded. "Yes. Centurion, have you been here before?"
"Yes," Gardi replied. "I'm somewhat familiar with this area. Ten years ago, when I was still a slave under Lord Nathaniel, I passed through here with him. We came through the territory of the Stonemason clan."
His eyes filled with memories and disgust. "Damn dwarves, greedy dwarves, they only allowed us to pass through those winding tunnels, and even then, they took one-third of our spoils before letting us go."
Uen said, "Now their whole clan has to rely on us. I think Lord Eugene is too merciful, they should all be made slaves, not allies or subordinates."
Gardi shrugged. "Well, you know, if they cause trouble in those tunnels, it'll make things very difficult for us up here. The dwarves have been digging those tunnels for over a thousand years, who knows how many there are. If only we had something that could collapse their tunnels. Even if we just collapse the entrance, that would suffocate them."
He flicked his horsewhip. "Enough of that. We're here now, how do you feel about human territory?"
Uen answered, "It's peaceful, very calm, with forests, fields, and hills, very rich, not like the grasslands, which are empty and monotonous."
Gardi laughed heartily. "If you like it, you can bring your family here to live—once we conquer this place. As a warrior in the king's camp, you have that right."
Uen's face darkened. "My family... they returned to the spirit of the grasslands during the White Disaster."
"I didn't mean to bring up your painful memories," Gardi apologized sincerely.
"It's fine, Centurion," Uen said, a determined look on his face. "I now fight for all Orcs."
Gardi patted his shoulder. "When our people migrate here, life will get better."
Uen eagerly asked, "Centurion, when will we launch a large-scale attack on human territory?"
"Don't rush. Our current mission is to harass them, draw their attention away from the Watcher Fortress. When that happens, the chief's attack will face less resistance. Of course, after the Watcher Fortress is under attack, we'll join in, like a pair of pincers, clamping down on the northeast of the Aldor people."
Uen didn't understand what pincers were, as tools made of iron were rare on the grasslands, but he understood what Gardi meant.
He eagerly awaited that day.
"Alright!"
Gardi glanced at the sinking sun, which cast a fiery red hue over the western sky.
"It's hunting time. Uen, sound our horn!"
The long sound of the horn echoed through the forest.
Along with the horn, the rapid sounds of hooves followed, and a large number of figures emerged from the trees, galloping across human land.
The Orc cavalry had launched an attack on the human village.
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"This month alone, there have been nine raids!"
Knight Arthur looked sternly at the people in the room, all high-ranking officers of the Watcher Legion.
"Nine villages have been ravaged by the Orcs, with heavy losses—food, money, people. The land we protect is bleeding!"
With a loud slap, he slammed his palm on the table in front of him.
"My lords, please allow me to lead a force to clear out the Orc bandits ravaging the northern mountains!"
Arthur's disregard for etiquette made many of the generals in the room uncomfortable.
"Cough!" His knight instructor, Sir Hal Duke, coughed heavily.
Sir Duke, also the vice commander of the Watcher Legion, was highly respected in the legion.
"Arthur, please leave for now."
Knight Arthur bowed deeply and left the room with large strides, though the door slammed a bit harder than usual.
"Hmph, that former squire of yours has quite the temper," Sir Colin remarked unhappily.
Sir Duke said, "Arthur's anger is from his strong sense of duty as a knight and a soldier."
"However, the Orc activities this year are unusual. Gentlemen!"
He surveyed the room. "In the past, only in winter would small groups of Orc raiders cross the Rocky Mountains and infiltrate the north to raid, but this is not winter—it's highly abnormal. And according to eyewitnesses, their numbers are much greater than before."
"Could it be..." someone speculated, "The Orcs have found a way to cross the Rocky Mountains in large numbers?"
"If that's the case, then it's bad news!"
"Impossible, the dwarves on the mountains would never allow large numbers of Orcs to pass. They're well known for being stubborn."
The room erupted into discussions.
"Sir Duke!"
An old voice spoke up—it was Duke Morton, the commander of the Watcher Legion.
Everyone turned to face him.
"Orc activities behind us have me feeling uneasy," the old duke said.
"We can't just let this go unchecked. Do you think we should take some troops from the fortress to guard the Rocky Mountain direction?"
"That..." Sir Duke hesitated.
The royal family had dispatched many knights southward to quell rebellions, and they hadn't "returned" yet.
After thinking it over, he finally said, "Your Grace, according to intelligence, the Grassland King's forces are focused on Gabella."
"I believe the pressure on the Watcher Fortress is not as great as before, so perhaps we can spare some forces to secure our rear."
The old duke nodded. "Then go ahead, we can't ignore the plight of those raided civilians."
"Yes, Your Grace."
After the meeting, Sir Duke stayed behind.
"Hal, is there something you want to discuss with me?"
"Yes, my lord."
Sir Duke's face turned serious as he looked at his superior.
"My lord, the Orcs are growing stronger, and I think it's time we deal with those bastards."
"Are you referring to..."
"Those bastards smuggling military supplies to the grasslands. If we don't stop them, the Orcs will soon become powerful enough that we can't control them."
The room fell silent.
"Sigh..."
The old duke sighed heavily, a sense of sadness in his tone.
"Your words remind me of Schroder,"
(End of the Chapter)
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