The Eve

Elune hung high in the sky, drifting through thin clouds as her cold moonlight spilled over the earth like a pool of clear water. Having finished his dinner, Alvin climbed to the top of the watchtower, gazing far toward the glowing encampment to the east of the fortress.

The chilly evening breeze swept across the tower top, tousling the boy's shoulder-length blonde hair and clearing his head, which had been slightly muddled after he snuck a taste of Thunderbrew by the campfire. That single barrel of Thunderbrew was a gift brought along by the knights who had escorted the Gnoll captives to Northland Fortress—a rare treat specifically intercepted from Brewfest, a 45-year-aged Thunderbrew vintage, brewed by Dwarves with special hops and cellar-aged for many years.

Brewfest followed closely on the heels of the annual Harvest Festival. Alvin had never heard any accurate rumors about this holiday, nor had he seen any verified records of it in the Royal Library.

The origins of this festival were a subject of much debate among the common folk, and the only plausible explanation was enough to make one laugh and cry at the same time—

It was said that during a Harvest Festival banquet, a Dwarf from Dun Morogh got into a dispute with the local residents of the Kingdom of Lordaeron over the taste of Thunderbrew versus ale, and in the end, everyone decided to hold a tasting competition after the Harvest Festival.

The result was predictable: before the excitement of the Harvest Festival had even faded, every participant in the tasting competition—Dwarf travelers and human residents of Lordaeron alike—ended up dead drunk. In the end, everyone declared the match a draw and agreed to hold an "exchange" of spirits on the twentieth of September every year. This was the legendary origin of Brewfest.

Before the army set out, the soldiers who had been busy and tense at Northland Fortress were finally granted a moment of celebration. Young soldiers gathered around the campfires, their loud, resonant songs spreading throughout the fortress, even drifting into the ears of the boy standing atop the tower.

About to step onto the battlefield, they were using this special method to release the confusion and fear in their hearts. No one knew if they would leave that man-eating forest alive, but the call of the Kingdom and the blood feud they held against the Trolls had made them resolutely join this war.

Fortunately, at the start of the war, these soldiers from northern Lordaeron would have a large number of qualified Gnoll cannon fodder before them. This measure would add a heavy weight to the scales of war for the Kingdom of Lordaeron, while significantly reducing their own casualty rates in the conflict.

A strategist once said: in a war, tactics are one part, strategy is another, and logistics are the rest.

The massive army gathered formidable combat power, but it also placed a tremendous burden on logistics. Even though the Kingdom of Lordaeron had been preparing for the coming war since before summer, and Stratholme had stockpiled a vast amount of supplies, the sheer number of soldiers still put immense pressure on the operation of the entire supply chain.

Supplying ten thousand people required a constant stream of one hundred wagons, and that was only the daily requirement. Fortunately, battles in the forest were mostly infantry duels, so few cavalry units were involved; otherwise, the burden of warhorses alone would have crushed the entire army. One must know that a qualified warhorse consumed twelve times as much as an ordinary soldier every day!

To cope with this war against Zul'Aman, a steady stream of grain and supplies had been slowly converging on Stratholme and Northland Fortress from other kingdoms of the Lordaeron continent since the summer. Faced with glittering wealth, merchants from different kingdoms and even different races had exerted all their efforts to bring goods acquired from various regions here. By the time of the Harvest Festival, the endless caravans had almost filled every warehouse in Northland Fortress with grain.

According to Archbishop Faol, in order to obtain a larger share of supplies from the humans, the High Elf lords rooted in the Ghostlands, represented by the Windrunner Family, traded a large amount of enchanted equipment to the Kingdom. These enchanted items produced by the High Elves were all high-end goods in the human world, and their value significantly reduced the financial pressure caused by the Kingdom's frequent logistical mobilizations and stockpiling of supplies this year.

Rich logistical reserves, a large number of Gnoll cannon fodder, and the terrain maps provided by the Blackpaw Gnolls—everything told Alvin that this would be a flawless victory. However, the boy, who had never witnessed a real war, still dared not draw a conclusion—who knew if the Mossflayer Trolls of Zul'Aman would call for reinforcements from the Amani Trolls?

One had to remember that the distance between Zul'Aman and Zul'Aman was not far; even at a full march through the forest, it was only about a half-month's journey. Although the Trolls of these two clans seemed to have little interaction, and the Amani Trolls were currently playing hide-and-seek with the High Elf ranger troops in the Ghostlands, this remained a potential trouble.

With the Orc war about to break out, Alvin did not want Zul'jin and his Amani Trolls to shift their gaze from the High Elves to the humans. Not everyone wanted to experience the feeling of driving a starving wolf out of the backyard only to have a tiger jump in, not to mention the lion lurking at the front door, watching with greedy eyes.

This should be a swift war of annihilation, and it had to be a quick one. Otherwise, the massive logistics and potential variables would cause the situation to spiral out of the control of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. The boy squinted, shivered in the cold wind, and turned to look at the guard behind him.

"Abberton, how is the effect of the samples sent by that Goblin?"

"The power is immense. If a high-tier warrior were at the center of the explosion, they would suffer minor injuries, and warriors of mid-tier or below would likely suffer severe injuries."

Not bad. The Goblin merchant Fizzle, whom Alvin had previously sent to contact the Steamwheedle Cartel, had brought him good news. According to the Goblin merchant, the Steamwheedle Cartel was very willing to establish a trade partnership with the Kingdom of Lordaeron. To show his sincerity, that Trade Prince had even gifted him a batch of items in a private capacity: enough high-explosive bombs to fill an entire wagon.

In Azeroth, the Goblins and Gnomes were two milestones in engineering technology. Short and physically frail, they knew they lacked the physical strength compared to other races. Therefore, most of them spent their time researching mysterious spells and divine arts. As for those without arcane talent, they poured all their energy into the delicate science of engineering.

No matter which world it was, those who spent all day in laboratories always had all sorts of peculiar hobbies. Gnome engineers were always fond of tinkering with strange inventions that had bizarre functions. In contrast, the fun for Goblin engineers was much simpler; there were only two words in their dictionary—profit and explosion.

This batch of high-explosive bombs was a fine product developed by the Goblin engineers of Booty Bay—with an effective blast radius of about 10 feet, the power at the center of the explosion was enough to cause fatal damage to low-tier warriors, and even mid-tier warriors would not have a good time if caught within the blast range.

ps: Thanks to book friend Nuhuqiliu for the 100 Qidian coin tip, thanks for the support!