Today was a happy day

After having the freshly ground flour transported overnight from the mill to the abandoned granary south of the Whitewater River, Leonard arranged for several soldiers to dress as farmers and pretend to reclaim the wasteland along the riverbank.

Troggs might have been creatures of low intelligence, but they were not entirely brainless.

If several hundred pounds of flour suddenly appeared in an abandoned granary, they would certainly be suspicious.

With farmers now reclaiming the riverbank, the Troggs would assume the food stored in the granary was the civilians' provisions and plunder it without a second thought.

Ten kilograms of croton and powerful laxatives had already been mixed into the flour. To obtain them, Byron had scoured almost every small clinic in town and bought out their entire stock of such medicines.

Everything was ready. All that remained was for the Troggs to steal every last bag of flour from the granary.

At first light, the soldiers disguised as farmers carried hoes to the riverbank and worked hard at clearing the land.

Before long, unusual sounds came from the woods to the north.

Yawning, Byron hid in the bushes beneath a small hill several hundred meters from the granary.

"They're here." Leonard opened his waterskin and took a hefty swig.

The sharp smell of alcohol drifted into Byron's nose. He frowned. "Give me a sip too."

"Children shouldn't drink." Leonard took another generous swig of Alterac Sake to perk himself up, his gaze fixed on the granary ahead.

Byron gave Leonard a disdainful glance. "Stingy bastard."

Accustomed to throwing their weight around Morris Town, the Troggs charged straight out of the woods on North Mountain. There were about fifty of them, each carrying a battered axe or a weapon made from a stone lashed to a wooden handle.

The Troggs rushed toward the riverbank. Those at the front took stones from the tattered pouches at their waists and hurled them with all their might.

"Troggs like smashing idiots."

"Smash idiots!"

Dressed in ragged scraps of cloth, the bare-chested Troggs excitedly charged toward the granary.

Seeing the Troggs rushing toward them, the soldiers immediately dropped their hoes and ran for the hillside to the north.

The filthy Troggs had little interest in the humans. Seeing how fast the farmers ran, they had no intention of pursuing them to the bitter end.

Having driven away the humans by the riverbank, the meter-tall Troggs gathered around the granary, jostling one another as they fought over the flour sacks stacked against the wall.

"King Gorlick ordered us to take all the food back to the mine. No keeping any for yourselves!" shouted a Trogg holding a long axe as he stood atop the sacks.

Before he had finished speaking, all the Troggs stopped what they were doing. They huddled together and stared blankly at York.

About half an hour later, the Troggs had emptied the granary of flour. Before leaving, York, still holding his long axe, set the granary on fire.

And so a scene unfolded on the riverbank: short Troggs carried sacks of flour on their backs, trudging toward their lair with heavy steps and savage grins.

Behind them stood the blazing granary, along with soldiers and a Paladin whose smiles were even happier.

The plan had gone perfectly. Leonard brought word to the Whitewater River Smelter that the Troggs had plundered every last bag of flour.

Rowan rubbed his hands together. "Leonard, Byron, thank you for your hard work. It's still early, so get some rest while you can. First thing tomorrow morning, we'll launch an all-out assault on those damned Troggs."

With their rations prepared, their blades polished, and a good night's sleep behind them, the soldiers were ready to march early the next morning. Leonard and Byron had already scouted the route to the North Mountain Mine, and in less than three hours, thirty soldiers reached the abandoned mine where the Troggs lived.

The soldiers were brimming with confidence and eager for battle. Rowan, too, had a bellyful of pent-up anger. Standing directly in front of the mine, he was just about to order an attack when he suddenly spotted three Troggs staggering out of the entrance, their bodies stained with shit-yellow liquid.

At the sight of the human soldiers, the Troggs froze for several seconds. Then, with vacant expressions, they dragged their weakened bodies back toward the mine.

In the end, however, they could not bring themselves to go back inside.

"Idiots, all idiots! I'd rather be killed by human soldiers than go back and stink to death." Before the words had finished leaving the Trogg's mouth, a wet splat rang out, and muddy yellow liquid sprayed everywhere.

Splat, splat, splat. After the slightly shorter Trogg sprayed shit, the other two seemed to have had their fuses lit. For a while, a nonstop series of wet splats filled the air.

Byron struggled to hold back his laughter. He had originally wanted to go up and teach the Troggs who had wrecked the smelter a lesson, but seeing their utterly hopeless expressions swept away all his frustration.

The Troggs hiding in the mine came running out one after another. One wearing white fur, with a silver longsword tucked at his waist, caught Rowan's attention.

Before Rowan could make trouble for him, the white-furred Trogg drew his sword and shakily pointed it at Rowan's group. "You crafty humans! You actually poisoned the flour! Damn you, you'll pay for this!"

Gorlick raised his longsword and charged unsteadily, only for Leonard to send him flying with a sweep of his sword.

Leonard was just about to follow up with Execute and finish off Gorlick's miserable life, but Rowan intervened to spare Gorlick.

"Wait. I think killing them just like that would be letting them off too easily. Since they like living in mines, why not let them live in one forever?" Rowan had come up with a new idea.

"You mean to make them miners, young master?" Leonard asked in confusion.

Rowan nodded.

Byron eyed the Troggs sprawled all over the ground with contempt. "In their current state, can they even work as miners?"

"Byron, you're in charge of confiscating all their weapons. Then escort them to the river and have them wash themselves. Bring them to Morris Town tonight and report to me," Rowan said.

Pinching his nose, Byron walked over to Gorlick and took his silver longsword.

"Fuck, this stink is unbearable."

"You'd better fucking behave! Shit, I recognize you. You're the one who led the Troggs in attacking our smelter." Byron viciously kicked York to the ground. Another wet splat rang out, and York muttered, "Stop spraying, stop spraying. There's nothing left."

Though it was a miserable job, Byron was in a wonderful mood by the time he returned to Morris Town.

Byron and the soldiers escorted the Troggs back to Morris Town, where the townspeople lined the streets to welcome them, hailing Byron as the town's great hero.

The enthusiastic townspeople brought baskets of eggs and flatbreads made from white flour, pressing them into the hands of Byron and the soldiers behind him.

"Please, everyone, don't do this. We're a proper army. We wouldn't take so much as a needle or thread from the people," Byron shamelessly declared while stuffing eggs and flatbreads into his pack, pretending he could hardly refuse such generosity.

"Sir Knight, you're amazing," said the pretty young girls crowding around Byron, their faces flushed as they held out flowers bashfully.

"Please, it was only my duty, beautiful miss. Would you mind if we spent the evening..."

Amid the townspeople's enthusiastic welcome, Byron spotted Young Master Rowan standing at the far end of the square. He immediately pushed the flowers away with a solemn expression and returned the eggs in his pack, untouched, to the kindhearted townspeople.

"By the Holy Light, the victory in this battle belongs to our great Norwington Family and our esteemed mayor, Rowan Norwington," Byron said admiringly, giving a respectful knight's salute.

Standing beside Rowan, Leonard's lips twitched slightly. "Byron, the way you suck up makes me sick," he said in a low voice.

"How shallow!"

In short, everyone in Morris Town was happy that day.

Byron had become a great hero in the townspeople's eyes.

Leonard was happy that Young Master Rowan had resolved the troublesome Trogg problem without getting hurt.

The townspeople no longer had to suffer under the threat of the Troggs. They could finally lead happy, carefree lives.

Rowan was happy too. A hundred miners had fallen into his lap, and they were free laborers he would not have to pay.