Inside the Council Hall of the Lord's Manor in Lakeheart Town, the flames on the candelabra flickered violently.
Paul Greiman unfurled the parchment scroll sealed with Orc blood lacquer. On it, aggressive words had been sketched in ink.
"By the name of War Wolf and thunder! Abaal Zalge, chieftain of the Zalge Clan, lord of the Orc Royal Court, and chosen of the Spirit of the Prairie, condemns you for harboring and indulging fugitives."
"Your despicable actions have severely harmed the interests of the lords of the Yellow Earth Land. As their current protector, the Great Chieftain must intervene in this matter!"
Catherine stood beside her husband and read out the outrageous demands word for word. "Cede the Blackstone Plains and pay an annual tribute of one million silver coins." Her voice suddenly tightened like a drawn bowstring. "Otherwise, the Northwest Bay will be turned into scorched earth."
The old knight Schroeder slammed his fist onto the table with a loud clang, sending ripples through the liquid in the inkwell.
"Arrogant beasts!" His graying beard trembled with rage. "They've forgotten how they were sent fleeing with their tails between their legs by muskets and cannons in the Blackstone Plains last time!"
Paul's fingers lightly brushed over the rough writing on the parchment. Each symbol looked like the mark of a battle-axe slash.
"Looks like Abaal understands the art of negotiation." Paul suddenly chuckled and tossed the scroll onto the table. "Start by making impossible demands—"
His gaze swept across every general present. "Then the bloodbath that follows will seem justified."
Scholar Alvis, who had been invited to attend the meeting, stroked his beard and sighed. "Well, how should I put it? The orcs' behavior is beginning to resemble that of us humans. In the past, they wouldn't have bothered inventing