The Coming Storm

"The natives are trying to organize a joint army, and this is their invitation." A slight breeze swept across the wilderness, making Hert's wild, long hair flutter.

His tone was solemn, but Richard wasn't affected by it.

"Well, well, quite capable, aren't they?" Richard chuckled. He was wondering if the natives really managed to organize themselves, whether it would be more appropriate to call it a joint army or a bandit gathering.

Common sense dictated that, aside from desperate times when they banded together for plunder, natives rarely united.

"My lord, before you arrived, a group of Kobolds lived here. Their leader was a rare Kobold Shaman who commanded the power of fire elements, knew divination, and was skilled in herbal medicine. He held great prestige among the surrounding tribes," Hert said, pointing to the wooden building on the hill.

Richard suddenly understood. When he first arrived, he was confused why such a prime location, excellent in every aspect, was occupied by a group of Kobolds. Now it all made sense.

The scarcity of medical skills in the wilderness was imaginable; turns out there was a high-level, multi-talented individual among the Kobolds.

"After the tribe was severely hit, the Shaman held a grudge and used his prestige to rally a tribal allied army, and their target is—" Hert paused, then continued, "You!"

"Me?" Richard's expression instantly became very interesting.

"Yes, the natives in the wilderness have always rejected outsiders, especially the nobles of Pompeii. This is a long-standing tradition because once outsiders gain a foothold, they encroach upon their living space."

"Then you guys…" Richard scrutinized the Centaurs without blinking.

"We are lonely souls forced to leave our homeland, unwilling to fall into degeneracy and associate with the natives in the wilderness, thereby letting our descendants become bandits and thieves. The Gale Clan is willing to join High Mountain Keep and from now on will raise our swords for your honor." After Hert finished speaking, there was a soft clatter of hooves, and twenty-one Centaurs stepped back and placed their hands over their chests.

This display caught Richard off guard, but he quickly nodded. "On behalf of High Mountain Keep, I welcome your joining."

Another person might have inevitably suspected it was a double-cross by the natives, but for him, there was no such concern.

Just think about it—the system's acceptance criteria surely weren't as simple as mere verbal allegiance. Those with hostile intentions who feigned loyalty would inevitably fail. Since he had now received the Centaurs' application to join, it was enough to prove they weren't two-faced traitors.

This was an implicit benefit brought by the system; High Mountain Keep would become a place where one wouldn't have to worry about traitors and spies.

He led the Centaurs up the hill. The barbarians were quite enthusiastic, high-fiving each new comrade in welcome.

One lie often requires ten thousand lies to cover it up.

Since he had tricked the barbarians with flour balls as potions before, he now had to go all out and trick the Centaurs again. Richard returned to his room and, like counting beans, counted out twenty-one of the leftover ones from last time, giving them to Gunther to use for his testimony.

This would be more effective, and most importantly, it would avoid any slight unease on someone's conscience.

Richard watched as a few barbarians spun wild tales, and the Centaurs, half excited and half skeptical, swallowed the flour pills, one by one passing their application to join.

Compared to the barbarians' simple, brutal heavy infantry melee route, the Centaurs had much richer potential for advancement. Starting from the lowest-tier Centaur Herdsman, they could advance to Centaur Recruit, then Centaur Guard.

Further advancement led to two branches: one was the Centaur Skirmisher and Centaur Eagle Archer route, positioned similarly to human mounted archers; the other was the Centaur Shock Lancer and Centaur Vanguard route, equivalent to heavy cavalry.

Once this kind of troop tree, suitable for both ranged and melee combat, and emphasizing both infantry and cavalry, took shape, it would greatly enrich the troop composition of High Mountain Keep's army, completely changing the current awkward situation of lacking cavalry and relying on javelins for ranged combat.

What Richard found a little regrettable was that the quality of these Centaurs was so uneven.

When the barbarians first joined, they were all Tier 3 soldiers, and their combat effectiveness was already quite good. But the twenty Centaurs were divided into three tiers—two Tier 3 Centaur Guards, nine Tier 2 Centaur Recruits, and the rest were all raw Centaur Herdsmen.

This level could only be said to be slightly better than militia, only having some combat effectiveness due to their racial talent. An adult Herdsman, even without combat training, could easily defeat two skilled human soldiers.

However, Hert, as a hero, was on par with Gunther, and even had a high trading skill. Looking at his honest, simple face, one wouldn't guess that this seemingly honest person could be the most ruthless when it came to swindling people.

Richard saw the people in the distant merchant camp pacing uneasily. The coachman had even hitched the carriages, but hadn't yet decided to set off.

They had heard the sentry's warning but still didn't know what had happened. They didn't know the origin of the suddenly appearing Centaurs, nor whether High Mountain Keep's attitude towards them had changed, anxious like prisoners awaiting judgment.

Richard vigorously waved towards the camp, signaling them to come over quickly. The situation was currently uncertain, but Annie took a deep breath and walked towards the hill, followed by four or five brave mercenaries who chose to escort their employer.

The barbarians in the way automatically parted, making a path for Annie and One-Eyed Dragon. When the third person tried to follow, they were squeezed from both sides by two barbarians, stumbling back two steps and finally losing control, landing on their backside.

"Wait here!" The barbarians laughed boisterously.

Although the Centaurs didn't know why the barbarians were laughing, they joined in with hearty laughter. The effect of such a large group of strong men laughing simultaneously was earth-shattering. The remaining mercenaries' faces flickered with uncertainty, their hands gripping their weapon hilts until their knuckles turned white, but they ultimately didn't dare to draw them.

"Be polite to our guests." Richard rolled his eyes.

The two barbarians exchanged glances and sighed simultaneously. One helped the fallen mercenary up, while the other brushed off the dust and grass from his clothes. "We didn't mean to, sorry, brother."

"Miss Annie." Richard, accompanied by Gunther and Hert, walked into the wooden building and said in a low voice, "High Mountain Keep might soon face a war, a war with the natives."

"Soon? How soon?" The sudden news made the Half-Elf's face change.

The merchant caravan could only stay in High Mountain Keep for refuge now, and getting involved in a war that wasn't theirs was certainly not what Annie wanted.

"Dinner time," Richard said, taking the main seat at the long table in the hall. "Let's talk while we eat."

Upon hearing there was food, Gunther casually pulled up a chair and sat down. Annie and One-Eyed Dragon had no choice but to suppress their questions and silently sat on the other side. The Centaur Hert couldn't use human chairs, so he lay directly on the ground, roughly the same height as the others who were seated.