Obstruction

"Enough, Garithos!"

At the front of the formation, a warrior with short golden hair turned around. He twitched his brows, his gaunt face etched with impatience. The man shouted at the young man who was preparing to draw his sword, "By the Holy Light, power should not be a tool for showing off!"

"The Archbishop and Prince Alvin will be here soon. Do you intend for them to see you entangled in a squabble with a Gnoll?"

This seasoned warrior, who clearly held a position of some standing, possessed great authority. His words made the hot-headed youth realize something—he had abandoned the comfortable life of a baron's heir, left his hometown of Blackwood Town, and enlisted in the kingdom's service for the sake of his family's honor and his own future, not to pick fights with this beast!

"My apologies, Baron Maxwell Tyrosus. I apologize for my recklessness."

The hot-headed youth suppressed his impulses and bowed to the captain who had warned him. However, once the other man turned away, he shot a fierce, sidelong glare at the Gnoll shaman, as if threatening that he would make her pay for making him lose face sooner or later.

Escorted by a large group of knights, an old carriage circled the small fortress and appeared beneath the high tower from behind the waiting soldiers. Through the open carriage window, the Archbishop and Alvin, both possessing keen perception, had clearly witnessed the conflict that had just transpired.

"It seems that Gnoll shaman is not having a very pleasant time."

The old man turned his head to look at the boy, who wore an innocent expression. "Have you thought about how to subdue those newcomers? The ordinary soldiers do not seem very friendly toward them."

The boy shook his head at the old man, indicating that he did not have a foolproof plan. It was not shameful to honestly seek help in front of one's elders; although the world was constantly changing, the experience of the older generation always had its uses.

"Survival is the basic demand of all people. I believe the Trolls will help us turn those Gnolls into true vassals. However, how to ensure their continued loyalty in the future is a question you must ponder yourself."

The Archbishop was not angry at the boy's performance and spoke with a cheerful smile. Then, without giving him time to react, the old man rose and walked straight off the carriage, arriving before the formation led by the golden-haired young warrior.

Without lingering, the old man simply waved his hand gently, beckoned the warrior standing at the front, and led Alvin, Kel'Thuzad, and Abberton into the tower, leaving only the Gnoll shaman outside the watchtower.

Unlike the watchtowers in games where a wooden staircase spiraled along the inner wall to the top, the first two floors of this tower were built entirely of stone. Due to the rushed construction, Alvin could clearly feel the uneven texture of the stones beneath his feet, and there were no decorations like those often hung by nobles and knights in the halls and corridors.

The stones on the ground floor were fused together, and there were no windows. In the absence of light, the entire ground floor hall appeared rough and gloomy. The second floor was divided into several compartments of varying sizes. Led by Maxwell Tyrosus, the group entered a small conference room on the second floor.

Maxwell Tyrosus—Alvin had some impression of this name. However, the boy only knew that this man would become a member of the Order of the Silver Hand in the future, and would also form the Argent Dawn when the Scourge ravaged the land, recruiting champions from races other than humans to fight against the Scourge together.

Therefore, when this temporary commander of the Northland Fortress introduced himself, Alvin's first thought was: This is a man without too many racial prejudices; perhaps the work of incorporating the Gnolls could proceed quite smoothly.

However, cruel reality dealt the boy a heavy left hook. When Archbishop Faol discussed with Maxwell the specific plans for how to utilize the Blackpaw Gnolls who had already surrendered, this experienced warrior raised his objections.

"Compared to ordinary people, Gnolls possess great strength and sturdy bodies, but they lack sufficient training and have no basic tactical discipline. In large-scale battles, they cannot provide effective support to friendly forces, and may even disrupt the realization of our own tactical intentions due to chaos, or even damage our own morale."

Having commanded battles on the scale of thousands, Maxwell was different from everyone else present. He pointed out the wishful thinking and the key difficulties of the plan without mercy: "I believe you also saw the situation just now; our ordinary soldiers mostly have feelings of repulsion toward those Gnolls. I fear it will be difficult to treat these beasts as reliable comrades-in-arms."

At this point, Maxwell stopped. He did not yet have the authority to completely reject the Archbishop's proposal and could only do his best to avoid situations unfavorable to the kingdom.

The entire conference room fell into an awkward silence. Among those present, Kel'Thuzad looked unconcerned and composed, Abberton kept a stony face without changing his expression, and the Archbishop did not state his position, instead turning to look at the boy who was bowing his head in thought.

Finally, after pondering for a short while, the boy looked up at the rugged-faced man and said clearly: "Baron Maxwell, I have some questions I would like to ask you."

"In the previous battle against the Blackpaw Gnolls, did Logul make a sufficient contribution to the outcome of the battle? Were the sacrifices of Lordaeron fewer than expected?"

Alvin's eyes were clear, and his voice carried a hint of youthfulness, but the young commander felt an indescribable pressure. Facing the boy's burning gaze, Maxwell nodded and spoke with difficulty.

"Indeed, the intelligence provided by this Gnoll shaman was of great help to our arrangements. Because the battlefield was chosen well and the tactics were correct, the casualties among our soldiers in this battle were indeed much lower than we had initially estimated."

"So, we must admit that they have the ability to take on the responsibilities of scouts in the forest?"

The prince pressed on, not intending to give the commander any room to breathe.

"I fear," the man's expression turned unpleasant; he wanted to refute but found no opening, and in the end, he had to agree with the boy's statement, "that is correct."

"So they still have value, at least their work as scouts can be done well."

Seeing that the other party was about to speak, Alvin quickened his pace, "If it is a problem of coordination and cooperation, we can organize the Gnolls into separate units, and before trust is established, we can try to avoid having their forces on the battlefield exceed the deterrent power of our Lordaeron soldiers."