When Hal Duke followed Paul Greiman into the room, he immediately recognized the man before him.
Antigone Bradley, the duke who ruled the northeastern territory of the kingdom!
Since the Watchers Fortress broke out, every sleepless night Duke has endured has been accompanied by a deep-seated hatred for Duke Bradley.
That hatred twisted him, drove him mad, and he swore countless times to personally cast that old bastard's filthy soul into hell.
The moment his enemy came into view, Hal Duke lost control of himself.
He immediately took a step forward and rushed to Duke Bradley in a few strides, reaching out his rough, calloused hand and grabbing the other man's collar fiercely.
Like a hungry brown bear catching a poor monkey, the short and thin Duke Bradley was lifted up by Duke.
"Let me see who this is!" His bloodshot eyes, filled with rage, stared intently at the old man. "Ah, it's Antigone Bradley, the one who would make even the maggots in the toilet sick! My great Father has finally answered my prayers; my enemy has actually come to me."
His tone was chilling, and anyone who heard it had no doubt that Duke would tear Bradley to pieces.
Bradley's murky eyes darted around, looking at the person who had grabbed him without a trace of anger.
" Hal Duke? Hahahaha, are you here to laugh at me? Haaaaah! I truly deserve it, I truly deserve it!"
Duke regained some of his senses at his enemy's strange reaction; he loosened his grip, and Bradley collapsed to the floor with a thud.
His servant, who had been too frightened to utter a sound, rushed over and helped his master up.
Duke then took a closer look at his enemy, and surprise overwhelmed his heart, which had been filled with hatred just moments before.
In his memory, Bradley was a typical old-fashioned aristocrat, well-dressed, with meticulously groomed hair and beard, and elegant in demeanor.
But now he is a completely different person.
His silver-gray beard hung haphazardly down his sunken chest; his once meticulously trimmed sideburns now resembled withered tree branches; and age spots were scattered across his unadorned face. His eyes were bloodshot and unusually cloudy, like two puddles of mud. Deep, knife-like nasolabial folds at the corners of his mouth connected with the loose skin of his neck, forming a cascading fold.
It wasn't just his physical condition that was appalling. He was dressed in a magnificent upper-class outfit, but the shoulders were torn, revealing the yellowed silk lining underneath. The gold thread embroidery had been stained a dark brown by something, and his clothes were covered in stains, making him look like a vagabond who had picked up a set of old clothes from a garbage dump and emerged as a nobleman.
In just over a year, the once vigorous ruler of the northeastern kingdom seemed to have aged more than ten years dramatically, as if he had been fleeing a long and arduous journey and had suffered greatly from the hardships of life.
Duke asked Paul curiously, "What's wrong with this guy?"
Paul cleared his throat. "Let me explain. Duke Bradley suffered a family tragedy that shattered his heart."
Through Paul's narration, Duke roughly understood the cause and effect.
Lemoster, the second son of Antigone Bradley, somehow instigated a conflict between his brother and the orcs. After a duel, Joanne Bradley lost his life, and Lemoster naturally became the heir of the Bradley Family.
The deeply grieving Duke Bradley wanted to demand an explanation from the orcs, but his second son, Lemoster, stopped him. Lemoster insisted that Joanne's duel with the orcs was fair, just, and in accordance with chivalry. He said that his brother's death was heartbreaking and regrettable, but the blame should not be placed on the winner of the duel.
This led to a huge conflict between father and son. Unexpectedly, during the argument, Lemoster suddenly summoned a group of his cronies, who tied up his father and sent him to prison.
Antigone Bradley spent three days in the cold cell before he realized, amidst his own excrement, that this was not a nightmare. Lemoster had undoubtedly betrayed him; he must have been in league with the orcs.
Recalling the gloating look in Lemoster's eyes before he was kidnapped, Antigone Bradley figured he probably wouldn't live to see the day his father and son reconciled.
Antigone cleverly used his remaining dukedom to escape from prison and, with his most trusted servant, raced all the way to Blackstone Plain, where he surrendered to the Northwest Legion.
In fact, even without experiencing this family tragedy, Antigone Bradley already harbored a deep hatred for orcs.
As originally agreed, the orc army was merely mercenaries of the Bradley Family to enter the northeastern region of the Kingdom of Aldor, expel the royal forces there, and then take their payment and return to the plains. The Bradley Family thus became the complete rulers of northeastern Aldor, just like the Giles in the south.
However, subsequent developments completely deviated from Antigone Bradley's original intentions.
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The orcs did not stop after defeating the Kingdom Army. They continued their advance without pause, marching west to Blackstone Plain and south to conquer Colossus Plain, seemingly poised to devour the entire Kingdom of Aldor.
It was only then that Antigone Bradley realized the astonishing ambition of these steppe barbarians—they wanted to leave the steppe and attempt to take over the human world.
Duke Bradley was gripped by immense panic. Aldor was currently weak, and if the orcs were to seize the opportunity to invade and destroy the kingdom, occupying its fertile lands, then the name Antigone Bradley, and indeed the surname Bradley, would be forever condemned to infamy. Future generations would associate him with immense evil. Even humans outside of Aldor would despise him.
At this point, Duke Bradley still harbored a fantasy—perhaps he could stab the orcs in the back and thus clear his name. A villain forced to feign surrender by circumstances, yet still harboring a sense of righteousness and waiting for an opportunity to strike back—this kind of historical assessment is not unreasonable.
However, the orc army's fighting prowess instilled fear in the Duke, who, after much deliberation, could find no way to resist.
Antigone Bradley broke down upon hearing the news that his eldest son had been killed by orcs.
"I will take my revenge! I will use every means to take my revenge!" Antigone Bradley swore to the Lord of Light.
He chose to go all out, knowing that while he lacked the strength of his own, he could rely on the strength of others, such as Paul Greiman, who had once defeated the orcs.