Night shrouded Blackwater Lake. The surface was as dark as ink, with only flames blazing into the sky on the far shore.
Alba's camp spread across the prairie opposite Stone Fortress like a moving city.
Thousands of hide tents stretched across the land, while bonfires glittered like a river of stars fallen to earth. The low growls of war beasts and the clang of the blacksmiths' hammers blended into a grim, murderous atmosphere.
At the center stood the royal tent, sewn from an entire Giant Elephant Hide and towering like a mountain. A battle flag was planted atop it, bearing the wolf head totem of the Prairie Royal Tent.
Inside, braziers burned fiercely, illuminating Alba as he sat upright on the Wolf Skin Throne. He had not removed his armor, and his face was imposing yet composed.
Four orc elders from the West Lake Tribe knelt prostrate on the ground, trembling all over, their fur standing on end with fear. They had once been forced to offer food and horses to the Aldo Army. Now, having been captured and brought back, they had assumed they were certain to die.
"Rise." Alba's voice was low and gentle, carrying an irresistible authority. "I know you were forced into it. The humans had their artillery at your doorstep and controlled your water sources. You had nowhere to retreat. I have now pardoned your betrayal. You need not be afraid anymore."
The four elders raised their heads, their eyes filled with shock and disbelief. They had thought that, in Alba's eyes, submitting to humans was an unforgivable disgrace.
"Great Chieftain... we..." The oldest elder's voice trembled.
"Enough." Alba waved a hand. "I need your eyes and your ears. Tell me—how did those humans raise four iron-and-stone fortresses beside the lake in such a short