Inside the Animal Hide Tent, Alba sat upright on the Bone Throne covered with wolf pelts, the Bronze Battle Axe resting across his knees.
When Viscount Acosta was brought in, more than a dozen pairs of orcish eyes fixed on the undersized human.
"G-Great Chieftain..." Acosta's knees went weak, and he nearly fell to his knees at the tent entrance.
He recognized several renowned Orcish Generals—Kalem was sizing him up coldly with his single eye; the young Aguirre toyed with a dagger, a mocking sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth; Old Shaman Aotaxi tapped his bone staff lightly against the ground, producing a chilling sound.
Alba raised a hand and motioned for him to come forward. The simple gesture drenched the Viscount's silk undershirt in cold sweat. Trembling, he handed over a scroll. "Duke Leimuster Bradley ordered me to prepare this grain and provisions list."
Old Orcish Eugene took it from him, unfurled it, and gave it a cursory glance before suddenly snorting. "This is all? It isn't even enough to feed the Vanguard Force!" His chipped tusks gleamed yellow in the firelight.
Arroyo abruptly slapped the table and rose, making Acosta stumble back two steps. "Humans are all misers! I say we should send my warriors to take what they need from their granaries!"
A burst of rough laughter erupted throughout the tent.
Acosta raised his trembling head and happened to meet Alba's unfathomable gaze. The Great Chieftain appeared calm, but the Viscount clearly saw that the axe's blade was pointed straight at his throat.
Alba leaned forward slightly. The Bronze Battle Axe shifted away by a few inches without drawing attention, while his rough fingers lightly tapped the Bone Throne's armrest, producing a dull sound.
"Viscount, you don't need to be so nervous." Alba's voice was