Translator: CinderTL
Lamost slowly rose from his seat.
"Fifty thousand gold coins! Chieftain!"
He looked at Yulga. "That's all I can pay as a deposit!"
"This..." Chief Yulga scratched his head. "Alright, fifty thousand gold coins it is. I want it now, and I'll count it myself!"
"Very well!" Lamost turned to the attendant beside him.
"Take Chief Yulga to the treasury to collect fifty thousand gold coins." His voice regained its usual authority as he turned back to the Orc Chieftain. "Yulga, this is just a deposit. If your warriors perform well in battle, I'm willing to pay a commission even higher than the one you requested—one hundred thousand gold coins!"
"Hehehe!" Yulga licked his lips with delight. "Duke, we won't let you down!"
The attendant led the Orc Chieftain out of the council hall.
Finance Minister Horn gasped. "Duke, one hundred thousand gold coins is nearly a third of our..."
"It's worth it," Lamost said suddenly, his voice rising. The flames in the gilded candelabra flickered.
"The Bradley Family's legacy cannot end with me!"
He paced to the window and pointed at the distant silhouette of the towering city walls. "Windbreath Fortress's walls are twenty feet thick, and the outer moat is fed by flowing water. The cellars are stocked with enough provisions to last two years."
Turning around, a feverish flush rose on his pale face. "Abal's army excels at open-field combat, but they've never seriously defended a city. That's why Grayman's forces advanced so swiftly. But in truth, urban warfare favors the weaker side. Windbreath Fortress has been fortified by the Bradley Family for a century, rivaling the Watchers Fortress in strength. With proper planning, we can hold out against an enemy ten times our size."
"No matter how powerful Grayman's firearms are, they still need soldiers to breach the city to achieve final victory. After crossing three moats and scaling the high walls, by the time they reach the inner city, every street and alley will become a slaughterhouse. If the Northwesterners could hold Stonebridge Town against the Orc horde, surely we, with our superior defenses, can replicate their miracle!"
His voice grew increasingly impassioned, his hands waving involuntarily. "Let those mud-crawlers witness what true urban warfare truly means!"
Turning his head, Lamost saw that Langfero was still pale. He walked over and patted his shoulder. "My knight, your previous failure won't be repeated. In open terrain, cavalry is indeed no match for muskets. But on the narrow battlements?" He flashed a confident smile. "Grayman's soldiers won't grow four arms—two for climbing ladders and two for firing muskets, will they? They won't have their hands free. Our fully armed knights can cleave down ten of those soldiers each!"
Lamost was the type of man who, once he saw a glimmer of possibility and convinced himself of it, would immediately swell from bottomless despair into fierce confidence.
He now believed he could achieve his goal. Of course, his goal wasn't to defeat the kingdom's army outright, but to inflict such heavy losses on them that Aldor would be forced to grant him lenient terms, allowing the Bradley Family to continue ruling this land as lords for generations to come.
"Gentlemen!" Lamost raised his goblet, the crystal catching the candlelight and reflecting a blood-red glow. "Let us give Paul Grayman a lesson he'll never forget!"
In the Black Bone Tribe's camp, a dozen iron-bound wooden chests were brutally pried open.
The moment the lids flipped back, a golden radiance flooded the tent, dimming even the hearth fire.
"Hahaha! Look at these shiny little treasures!" Yulga scooped up a handful of gold coins, letting them clatter through his fingers back into the chest.
With a sweep of his massive arm, dozens of coins rained down on the watching Orc Warriors, who erupted in a deafening roar and scrambled to snatch up the rolling gold.
A young Orc Warrior caught a coin and bit down hard on it between his tusks, his brass earring clinking with the movement.
"Chieftain, how many barrels of ale can this buy?" he asked excitedly, his furry face flushed with excitement.
"Enough to soak you all in ale barrels!" Yulga roared with laughter and kicked open another chest, spilling out a fresh cascade of gold coins. The Orcs went wild, hacking open the remaining chests with their battle axes. Some even dove headfirst into the glittering pile, rolling around in the coins.
In the corner, Shaman Goruk frowned. "Chieftain, are we really going to stay and help those humans defend their city?" He rubbed his gaunt fingers over a gold coin bearing the image of the human king. "The Northwest Legion's muskets are no joke..."
"Defend their city?" Yulga suddenly burst into thunderous laughter, throwing an arm around Goruk's shoulder and spraying the shaman's face with alcohol fumes. "My dear Goruk, when have you ever seen a wolf guard a sheep?"
The laughter in the tent abruptly ceased. Young warrior Brock scratched the scar on his head. "But you promised that pale-faced human..." He had accompanied Yulga to the Bradley Family castle.
"I was just stringing that fool along!" Yulga grinned triumphantly, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. He unfastened a heavy leather pouch from his waist and tossed it to Brock. "Go, distribute these to the sentries and tell them to keep the gates locked tight. No outsiders are to approach our camp. I need to discuss a grand plan with Goruk!"
The shaman looked puzzled. "What grand plan?"
"To seize all the Bradley Family's gold!"
"What? This..."
Yulga sat cross-legged on a hide rug, his rough fingers dipping into ale to sketch crooked lines on a wooden chest.
"Pay close attention, old friend!" he whispered, a greedy gleam in his eyes. "The vault lies beneath the western tower of the castle, guarded by three iron gates."
Goruk narrowed his eyes, tracing the ale-stained route with his finger. "Guards?"
"Three hundred iron-clad fools," Yulga scoffed, gnawing on a piece of meat from his belt. "But when the Northwesterners approach, at least two-thirds will be sent to defend the walls—I overheard their conversation."
Outside the tent, the drunken singing of the Orc warriors perfectly masked their conspiracy.
The Shaman's lips curled into a sinister smile, revealing jagged yellow teeth. "Need some knockout smoke? I've concocted a new formula that could bring down a mammoth."
"Of course, the more the better!" Yulga pulled a grimy scroll from his tunic. "And this—I've been observing the nearby tavern for days."
The unfolded paper revealed the castle guards' shift schedule.
"So you've been eyeing the Bradley Family vault all along!"
Their eyes met, and they exchanged a low, guttural laugh.
(End of the Chapter)
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