At the darkest hour before dawn, Alba made his decision.
He stood outside the royal tent, gazing at the barely visible outline of Stone Fortress across the lake. Firelight illuminated his stern face.
There was no need to probe any further, nor to hesitate. The Aldo People had declared their control of the lake with their gunboats. The four fortresses had been linked into a single whole. They had to strike like thunder, shatter one point, and tear open this iron curtain.
"We'll start with Stone Fortress." The Great Chieftain issued the order, his voice like cold iron leaving its sheath.
The grassland's war horns sounded at daybreak, low and tragic, like the roar of an ancient giant beast. They instantly tore through the silence along Blackwater Lake. The orcs' assault had begun.
From camps in every direction, a flood of orcs began to gather. They were not elite veterans, but recruits from the various subordinate tribes of the grasslands—young warriors, hunters yearning for glory, and herders fighting for their tribes' survival.
Their clothing varied, and their weapons were a jumble, but the same flames burned in all their eyes: awe of the royal tent, hunger for wealth, and fanaticism for driving out the invaders.
Alba stood on a high platform, his war banner snapping in the wind. He raised his battle-axe toward Stone Fortress across the lake and his voice rolled across the grasslands like thunder. "Kill! Take that stone fortress! The wealth, the women, and the glory all belong to the brave!"
"Kill—!" tens of thousands of orcs roared in unison, their voices surging into the sky and startling flocks of birds from the lake.
The charge began.
Like a black tide bursting through a breached dam, the orc warriors surged toward the South Wall of Stone Fortress,