Second Orc War (14)

Sunlight spilled across the earth as tens of thousands of Werewolves receded like the tide, leaving the Fragrant Mountain Plains in ruins.

This place had once been rich with fragrance. The spices produced by the Fragrant Mountain Plains had flowed throughout the world through the Northern Trade Guild, but after this war, filth and stench could be seen and smelled everywhere.

Devastation was a simple description of the land after the war, but written words could never capture what war truly looked like.

The fire oil had been ignited, and black smoke still filled the Mountain Forest that had burned through the night. Charred trees and foul earth lay everywhere. Inside the fortress, there were scorched corpses and the ruins of collapsed buildings. The flames had been extinguished, but the choking smoke still left the slaves clearing the battlefield with clouded eyes.

Melted snow and blood had mingled together in the black soil. Ryan frowned as he looked over the ruined Fragrant Mountain Plains.

"The Orcs could return at any time. The fortress must be rebuilt as quickly as possible."

"Tell the craftsmen to speed up. The resources sent by the Empire will be wasted if we do not use them. And those mages—pay them to reinforce the fortress."

Ryan's gaze turned toward the Northlands. Something had clearly happened among the Werewolves.

They did not seem to be on such harmonious terms with the deity that had driven the Werewolves berserk during last night's battle. Were they rejecting that wildness that robbed them of their reasoning?

Thoughtfulness filled Ryan's eyes. He was preparing to write a letter to Giant Stone Castle, where Count William resided.

It was not merely because of the strange events happening to the Werewolves.

Northlands, Silvermoon Royal Court.

From the Fragrant Mountain Plains Fortress, countless densely