A few more days passed, and the conflict between the two groups of Orcs became even more pronounced.
The cattle raised in Regar Territory were slaughtered overnight and stored away in Regar's Keep. The outsider Orcs nearly caused trouble, but Dranosh drove them back. "We raised those cattle ourselves. What does it have to do with you if we slaughter them all?"
"Tell us, where did you hide the beef?" But how could Orcs from the grasslands be reasoned with? As they spoke, they reached for their weapons.
Dranosh was no pushover either. Though they were rushing to harvest wheat, everyone carried weapons. When the outsiders came to stir up trouble, the Orcs harvesting nearby gathered together, each cracking their knuckles and preparing for a brawl.
So when the outsider Orcs pressed him, Dranosh did not back down. "If you want beef, ask whether the thing in my hand agrees." As he spoke, he swung the spear in his hand.
"You!" The outsiders had not expected the Regar Orcs, who had seemed weak and easy to bully a few days ago, to suddenly become so tough. They had meant to use force to pressure them into handing over some benefits, but now the other side stood firm and refused to yield an inch.
On the grasslands, reason was determined by whose fists were harder. Now that Dranosh had turned tough, they found it hard to make a move. But if they backed down, they would have to lower their heads whenever they met Dranosh and his people in the future. So they decided to fight back. "Either hand over the beef, or fight us."
"Then let's fight!" Dranosh stepped forward, making it clear that he was not afraid.
"Whoosh!" Both sides raised their weapons. A clash between nomadic Orcs and