Thanks to our two friends, Departed-Solo Dance and Silent-Moonlight's Lament, for their tips. While I'm at it, please add this book to your favorites. Today's weekly member views are frighteningly high, twice last week's, but the favorites count hasn't budged. Everyone reading, don't forget to favorite the book.
The night was hazy, yet Southshore shone brightly. Countless torches and magical devices made the town look like an enormous lamp radiating light.
But the sight turned the Orc Commander's face livid. Cries of battle and slaughter kept reaching his ears. Standing outside the Southshore Wall, he could plainly hear the fighting within. I've been tricked. That was his first thought. The gates had suddenly closed, splitting his army in two, and light had flared into the sky. If all that still wasn't enough for him to understand what had happened, he might as well die.
"Retreat!" The Orc Commander knew when to commit and when to let go. The enemy had seen through his scheme and turned it against him. With morale at its lowest, a full-scale assault would only end in another defeat, perhaps even a rout. He decisively ordered a retreat. As he looked toward Southshore, his heart bled. Those two thousand elite orcs had been the foundation of his strength, and now they had all been wiped out. All he had left were some broken wretches who had spent years imprisoned in the Refuge.
Broken wretches-that was what the Orc Commander called his imprisoned kin. Even the bravest warrior would lose his edge after nearly ten years of confinement and sink into despondency. There were almost ten thousand of these wretches, but in a real battle, they certainly would have been no match for his elite orcs. He now hated Southshore. Before, attacking the town had merely been