Inside the large tent made of animal hides, Abar sat upright on a bone seat covered with wolf skins, a bronze battle axe resting on his lap.
When Viscount Acosta was brought in, a dozen or so orc eyes all stared at the small, thin human.
"Great Chieftain!" Acosta's knees buckled, and he almost knelt at the tent entrance.
He recognized several renowned orc generals— Kalem was coldly scrutinizing him with his single eye; young Aijile was toying with a dagger, a disdainful smirk playing on his lips; and old shaman Otasi was tapping his bone staff lightly on the ground, producing a chilling sound.
Abar gestured for him to come forward, a simple gesture that sent a chill down the Viscount's spine, soaking his silk shirt. He trembled as he handed over the scroll: " A list of provisions ordered by Leimoste Duke Bradley."
The old orc Eugene took it from his hand, unfolded it, glanced at it hastily, and suddenly sneered: "Is this all? Not even enough to feed the vanguard!" His broken fangs gleamed yellow in the firelight.
Arroyo slammed his fist on the table and stood up abruptly, startling Acosta into taking two steps back: "Humans are all misers! I think my warriors should go to their granaries and take what they need!"
A burst of rough laughter erupted from inside the tent.
Acosta looked up, trembling, and met Abar's unfathomable gaze— the Great Chieftain appeared calm, but the Viscount clearly saw the blade of the battle axe pointing directly at his throat.
Abar leaned forward slightly, the blade of his bronze battle axe shifting subtly to the side, his rough fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of the bone base, producing a dull sound.
"Your Excellency, there is no need for you to be so tense." Abar's voice was deep and steady, as if he were soothing a frightened colt. "My army has come here to liberate the people of Yellow Earth Land from the tyranny of Aldor."
He gestured to a servant to bring a glass of mare's milk wine, which he then personally handed to Acosta.
"The provisions you have gathered are only temporary requisitions, a necessary measure for longer-term peace."
Acosta accepted the gilded silver cup with trembling hands, the wine swirling in the glass with tiny ripples.
He noticed that the generals in the tent had different expressions— Kalem was wiping his battle axe with a cold smile; Aijile was playing with a dagger; and old Eugene was squinting as he continued to look at the numbers in the provisions ledger.
"Thank you so much, Great Chieftain, for your concern." Acosta took a sip, the sourness of the mare's milk wine almost making him choke.
When Abar waved for him to leave, Acosta hesitated, not seeming to want to go.
Abar's brows furrowed like dark clouds, and his bronze battle axe trembled slightly on his knee.
"Human, you pace back and forth in my tent like a frightened rabbit." His voice echoed like thunder within the animal-skin tent. "Speak now, what else is there?"
He changed his previous gentle tone, because the Great Chieftain disliked such indecisive behavior.
Viscount Acosta's knuckles turned white from the effort as he finally pulled a yellowed letter from the silk lining. The letter was soaked with cold sweat, its edges curled like withered leaves.
" Great Chieftain," his voice barely audible, "this is a letter secretly delivered to me by someone from Duke Bradley. I'm not talking about Leimoste Duke Bradley, but the former Duke Antigone Bradley."
Abar's rough fingers slowly unfurled the damp letter, and as his one eye swept over the trembling handwriting, a sharp glint flashed deep within his pupil.
" Stone Bridge Town gathers, Laois is empty." He read the words aloud, his deep voice like distant thunder, each syllable sending chills down Acosta's spine.
However, the contents of the letter also clearly state that it is fake.
Viscount Acosta confessed nervously, "This is false information that Antigone Bradley asked me to deliver to the Great Chieftain."
Aijile's dagger traced a silver arc in the firelight: "Father, the cunning humans have set a trap! By the way, that old fox has already escaped to Lakeheart Town! The real mastermind must be that guy named Paul Greiman."
Upon hearing this name, Kalem's eyes narrowed into slits as the humiliating memory of being defeated by Alda's army on Blackstone Plain resurfaced; their commander was none other than Paul Greiman.
A sinister smile spread across his face: "It seems Glaeman wants to lure us to the city of Laois, where we'll bleed to death in his trap."
Abar held the letter close to the brazier, where it curled into ash in the flames, and his face appeared as hard as granite in the rising smoke.
Great Chieftain's bronze fingers tapped the bone armrests, producing a dull thud. "Interesting," his voice was like the grinding of gravel, "why did old Bradley choose you to deliver this letter?"
Acosta's cheeks flushed crimson, as if scorched by the heat of a brazier. He nervously twisted the hem of his clothes, the silk fabric making a soft tearing sound between his rough fingers. "Because...because," his voice was barely audible, "I am his illegitimate child."
A burst of rough laughter suddenly erupted from inside the tent. Kalem slapped his knees, a mocking glint in his single eye; Aijile continued toying with his dagger, the tip slicing back and forth across Acosta's shadow.
"Even stranger!" Abar leaned forward, the blade of his battle axe reflecting a dangerous light. "Since you are connected by blood, why would you betray him?"
Acosta suddenly knelt down, his forehead pressed against the cold, muddy ground. "Great Chieftain!" his voice was distorted with fear, "My loyalty to you is as bright as the stars of the North—"
"You're lying!" Old Shaman Otasi slammed his bone staff down, the runes on its tip suddenly glowing eerily. "Excuse me, I should put it another way: it's not entirely because of your loyalty to the Great Chieftain!"
Acosta trembled, finally raising her head, her eyes flashing with genuine fear: "I...I'm scared. Leimoste killed Joanne. After my father escaped, I'm next. He's got no good intentions in making me gather provisions! I want your protection in return!"
Abar suddenly burst into laughter, the sound causing the snow on the tent roof to fall in a flurry.
"Gods above!" He wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes.
He didn't finish his sentence: "What kind of offspring did old Bradley have? A treacherous patricide, a cowardly informer."
A rare hint of regret flashed in Great Chieftain's one eye. "Only that Joanne is a decent man."
The crackling embers in the brazier illuminated Acosta's flushed face.
The orc Great Chieftain suddenly slammed his bronze battle axe into the ground: "You did very well this time. As a reward, I will protect you. Leimoste Bradley won't do anything to you. "
"Go back and try to inform Antigone Bradley that I now believe what he wants me to believe!"