Redd has been keeping this habit for many days.
After the construction tasks and cleaning work during the day, he would walk up to the wooden tower alone at night to observe the situation around the camp, paying attention to the area where light and darkness meet outside the wall.
He never relaxed his attention to what was happening below the ground.
This concern was not due to fear or excessive caution, but because he knew that the orcs had enough underground digging capabilities to approach the camp without disturbing the surface.
Douglas mentioned in the last report that the distribution of the orc tribes and underground passages is more complicated than marked on the map.
Redd was not sure when they would take action, but he was sure that they would not give up completely because of one failure, especially since their altars and transmission channels were still intact.
He tapped his fingers twice on the edge of the railing, and then turned his attention to the area behind the camp assigned to the Demon Dragon Legion.
King Ghidorah is lying on a flat ground specially cleared for it, with its three heads facing three directions, and the middle one is slightly raised, as if listening to the weak airflow changes in the air.
Other Demon Dragon are distributed behind King Ghidorah. Some have closed their eyes and entered light sleep. The sound of breathing presents a low and continuous resonance in the silence.
The fire in the camp is still burning, and the soldiers are taking turns to watch the night. The sentry on the wall will report peace every once in a while. The sound passes through the area illuminated by the fire and reaches the center of the camp, forming a short but stable human voice communication line.
Redd stood for a while longer. The footsteps of those shifts kept moving in a fixed direction in the camp. No one made any unnecessary noise. No one raised his head to look at the top of the wooden tower where he stood. Only the occasional firelight swayed and cast a slender shadow at the base of the tower. The inclination slightly changed with the direction of the wind, and then returned to its original outline.
He walked smoothly as he left the stairs at the top of the tower. The sound of his boots on the wooden steps was even and spaced, as if he was being pulled in sync with a steady beat until his figure completely disappeared in the middle of the tower.
In the following days, the work and rest in the camp almost maintained the same rhythm. Cleaning and construction were carried out during the day, and the progress of the day was sorted out before evening and plans for the next day were arranged.
Redd never relaxed his surveillance of the underground. He would take some time every day to walk to the filled-in empty space at the edge of the camp and squat down, placing his palms against the trampled ground for a few breaths to feel the movement below.
The feedback from the ground has never changed. It has remained quiet and stable, with no new vibrations or continuous ups and downs. It is like a complete plate that has been completely compacted and no longer has anything moving underneath it.
This kind of calmness itself makes Redd feel some kind of unexplainable uneasiness.
The orcs emerged from the ground on such a large scale, and their level of organization and ability to cooperate in combat indicate that there is a command system behind them.
The orcs lost a large number of soldiers in the first battle but did not show any movement the second time. This either means that they are waiting for someone or a specific opportunity, or that they are preparing another way of attack.
Redd's thoughts will continue to think like this in some late nights, but he will not come to a new conclusion, so he can only continue to maintain the existing defense arrangements and patrol density, waiting for the moment when things really happen.
It wasn't until the day the fleet appeared on the horizon that the atmosphere in the camp changed significantly.
That morning, the lookout on the sentry tower noticed the silhouette in the distance during his routine inspection.
He stood on the observation platform at the top of the tower and visually inspected the size and course of the fleet. After confirming the flag and canvas characteristics of the incoming ship, he turned and shouted down the wooden ladder, "The transport fleet, there are probably more than ten ships."
Redd was in the camp area and confirming the storage location of the new batch of wood with the officer in charge of timber storage. After hearing the shouts on the sentry tower, he raised his head and glanced in the direction of the port.
He could no longer see the outlines of the ships clearly, and could only see a few dark spots slowly getting bigger.
He stood at a slightly higher position in the camp and waited for a while. The outlines of the first batch of ships became clearer and clearer. The posture of the bows breaking through the water and the number of masts were identified one after another. The speed was stable and there was no abnormality.
When the last few ships in line docked, the figure of Douglas appeared on the side of the first ship.
He looked thinner than when he set off, with a darker complexion. There were a few slightly darker marks on his cheeks and bridge of his nose that were left after repeated exposure to salt spray and sea breeze. The old cracks on his lips had not yet completely healed. Before disembarking, he was lowering his head to talk to the crew next to him to confirm the position of the mooring cable.
After his ship docked, he stepped neatly over the side of the ship, walked a few steps on the trestle, made sure that the bitts were locked, and then walked towards Redd in the camp.
"It's earlier than expected," Redd said, "How was it on the road?"
"We didn't encounter big waves," Douglas put down his hand and patted his sleeves stained with salt grains. "The wind direction was suitable most of the time. It only deviated a bit near Valyrian Peninsula.
Smoking Sea There are fewer steam columns in the depths than when we came out, and several places where the steam used to come out have completely stopped. The sea is calming down."
He took off his gloves, took out a list wrapped in oilcloth from his arms, and handed it to Redd, "This is the list of supplies shipped this time. Most of them are grain, and there is also a batch of kerosene, tools and building materials.
In addition, I brought some craftsmen and laborers from Volantis, all of whom have done heavy work, and should be able to help with the construction of the camp."
Redd took the list, opened it, scanned it, and then closed it.
His eyes moved towards the port.
The second batch of ships is docking, and several smaller transport ships are slowly adjusting their angles to adapt to the distance between the newly built trestle and berths.
"The supplies are being shipped faster than I thought. Those governors didn't waste time this time?"
Douglas stood still, turned his head and glanced at the fleet that was unloading. "The fate of the last batch of governors has been spread to every corner of every City-States.
This time the officials responsible for requisitioning grain worked much faster than before, and some even started transporting grain to the warehouse before my order was officially delivered."
He paused and then added, "However, they do have no other candidates to replace them. The list of the last batch of executions is still hanging on the city gate of Volantis.
If they don't want to get another gallows, they have to turn over the empty warehouses layer by layer to refill them."
Redd did not respond immediately after listening.
He glanced down at the list in his hand and confirmed that the items on it were consistent with what Douglas reported verbally. He handed the list to a guard waiting nearby and asked him to store it. Then he turned to Douglas and motioned for him to continue.