The air in the council chamber seemed to freeze.
Lymester's fingers unconsciously traced the carvings on the armrest of the chair, his knuckles turning white from the force.
The envoy's proposal coiled around his mind like a venomous snake—going to the steppe might mean a slow death, while staying meant immediate destruction.
In the midst of this suffocating silence, a series of chaotic footsteps suddenly came from the corridor.
Lemester jumped to his feet. His first thought was that the kingdom's army had attacked, causing chaos in the city—those terrifying soldiers were probably approaching with bayoneted rifles, marching in orderly steps.
"Bang!"
The council chamber door was kicked open violently, and the door panel slammed heavily against the wall.
Five orc warriors swaggered in, reeking of sweat.
It seems the guards couldn't stop these guys, but Lemester was actually relieved; it was better than Gladman's soldiers breaking in, after all.
The orc in the lead was a head taller than the others, with dark skin covered in hideous scars and a necklace of bones around his neck. He was Yulga, the chieftain of the Bone Tribe, and Lemester recognized him.
"Greetings to His Highness the Duke!"
Yurga grinned, revealing a set of uneven, yellow teeth. "I guess you need a warrior right now!"
Lemester's heart skipped a beat, and he straightened his collar, trying to appear calm: "Your Excellency, what's wrong...?"
"I'm not going to waste any more words!" Grom strode to the long table. The messenger of Agil tried to stop him, but he pushed him aside.
The orc chieftain slammed his heavy battle axe into the ground with a thud. "I can gather more than ten thousand warriors who can stay and help you defend this city."
His small eyes gleamed with a cunning light. "As long as the price is right!"
Treasurer Horn glanced at Lymerst, wiping the cold sweat from his brow: "I wonder how much the chieftain desires..."
"One hundred thousand gold coins, I want them now."
Grom held up his short, stubby finger. "After we drive back Gleiman's army, I'll take the three most fertile valleys of the Yellow Earth."
A collective gasp filled the council chamber.
Lemester noticed that Aguirre's envoy's face turned ashen—clearly, the sudden appearance of the Bone Tribe had disrupted the orc prince's plans.
Yulga leaned closer, his pungent breath hitting Lemester's face: "How about it, Your Grace? My axe is much more reliable than those cowards who fled back to the grasslands."
He deliberately glanced at the envoy who was frozen in place, "At least our Wugu tribe... won't run off with your treasure halfway."
Aguirre's messenger slammed his fist on the table and rose abruptly, his orcish yellow-green pupils shrinking to thin slits in the candlelight.
"Yurga!" he roared, "Are you questioning the Royal Council's decisions?"
Yurga grinned, revealing a ferocious smile: "Decision? You mean the decision to run away with your tail between your legs?"
He deliberately scraped the axe blade with his thumb. "The warriors of the Wugu tribe have never learned the skill of exposing their backs to the enemy."
The envoy's hand rested on his sword, the bone ornaments jingling with his movement: "Watch your words, Chief Ugu. Chief Abar and Prince Agire—"
"They should be outside the Loess Land by now, right?" Chief Yulga made an exaggerated gesture of looking out, which drew rough laughter from the warriors behind him.
He turned to Lemester and deliberately raised his voice: "At least we, the Bone Tribe, dare to stay and fight, unlike some people who have vanished without a trace."
The atmosphere in the council chamber was tense. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Lymester's forehead as he cautiously interjected, "Distinguished guests, perhaps we could..."
"Lord Bradley," the messenger suddenly turned to him, his voice carrying a warning, "you'd better think carefully: do you want the friendship of the royal tent… or the promises of this boastful brute."
Lemester felt a wave of dizziness. He gestured for a servant to bring wine glasses to the two men, and took the opportunity to gather his thoughts: "Your Excellency, please allow me to speak with Chief Yulga first. I believe the Grand Chief and Prince Aguire will understand this prudent decision..."
The envoy's nostrils flared with anger, and he suddenly slammed his hand on the table: "Your Grace, please make your decision carefully."
As the envoy's angry footsteps faded at the end of the corridor, an eerie silence fell over the council chamber.
Yulga gave a smug snort and downed his wine glass in one gulp.
Lemester continued to ponder.
Yulga stared with his large, bell-like eyes, scanning the terrified faces of the human nobles in the council hall, a surge of irritation rising within him.
"Make a decision quickly!" Although he had only recently arrived in the human world, he still maintained the rough communication style of the grasslands. "My warriors are still waiting outside!"
In reality, Yurga knew very well that his so-called warriors had already packed their bags.
The Bone Tribe was the second group of orcs to respond to Abar's call to march south. Due to the long distance, by the time they arrived in Aldor, the Aldor army had already launched a full-scale counterattack, and the orcs had begun a great retreat.
Yurga was seething with anger. They had traveled for months to reach the battlefield, only to find that their allies were a bunch of cowards. Whenever a battle broke out, just as Yurga and his men were about to fight with high spirits, their allies would immediately collapse and retreat, forcing them to retreat as well.
This resulted in the Wugu tribe not being able to fight many battles, and naturally, they also lacked a proper understanding of the current combat capabilities of the Au army.
However, with the orcs' overall situation hopeless, Yorga had no ambition to stay behind and reclaim the orcs' glory. His offer to help Lemster fight was merely an attempt to extort money from them.
The common people could only rob a bunch of scrap metal; it would be too shameful to bring it back to the grasslands.
But the Bradley family, who rule this place, is a big fat sheep!
"My friend…" Lemester began cautiously, "Are you sure you can hold Storm's End? The Northwest Legion's firearms…"
"Enough with the nonsense!" Yurga interrupted rudely, his fangs gleaming coldly in the firelight. "Do you think our Blackbone tribe is like those cowards?"
He spoke words against his will, but in his heart he was plotting: as soon as he got the gold coins, he would slip away under cover of night, since these human nobles wouldn't dare to chase after him and demand them back.
In the corner, the young clerk suddenly mustered his courage and interjected, "Chief, your price is far too high!"
Yurga whirled around, grabbed the clerk by the collar, and lifted him up: "You brat, if you dare to say another word, I'll string your tongue together like a necklace!"
He threatened fiercely, but in his heart he wondered: Is 100,000 gold coins really too high?
The Wugu tribe's trade was still at the stage of bartering. Yulga, who had gained some knowledge in the human world, only knew that money could buy things, but had no concept of the value of 100,000 gold coins.
"You can pay that first... right, the deposit! Uh... uh... how about 60,000 gold coins!"
Chief Yurga was very good at using his brain and would immediately apply the new knowledge in his head.