The orc's body trembled slightly, his eyes scanning each person in the tavern with a flustered look—as if he wondered who had forced him to speak.
The two human soldiers stared at him in disbelief.
But those words clearly came from his own throat.
The air under the candlelight seemed to distort slightly for a moment, like a heat wave sweeping across the sand, before quickly returning to calm.
Mariana remained seated in the corner, her veil lowered, her fingertips lightly resting on the rim of her cup, motionless.
Her gaze never left the table, but the surface of the glass of water in front of her had just rippled very slightly.
It was exactly in sync with the moment the orc uttered those words.
The orc officer still covered his mouth, his chest heaving violently, and muffled sobs coming from his throat.
His wide eyes were filled with terror—not fear of the enemy, but horror at losing control of his own body.
He slowly released his hand, his knuckles stiff, as if testing whether his mouth still belonged to him.
He opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something—a command, a threat, or even a roar—
But the moment he opened his lips, another voice welled up from his throat, deep and clear, carrying an irrepressible sarcasm:
"Abar, who only bullies the weak and fears the strong, would have already scurried back to the grasslands with his tail between his legs!"
The voice was louder and more piercing than the previous one, as if another soul within him was speaking for him.
"Ah—!" He suddenly clutched his throat tightly with both hands, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets, his entire face contorted with extreme horror.
It wasn't that he didn't want to speak, but rather that his mouth was uttering blasphemous words he would never utter.
The two human soldiers exchanged glances. One of them cautiously took half a step forward and tentatively whispered, "Sir...you..."
"Get out!" The orc officer suddenly sprang up and shoved the soldier away violently. The wooden table was overturned, the wine jar shattered, and the liquid meandered on the ground like blood.
He stopped abruptly, letting out a howl that was almost like that of a wild beast, and turned to rush into the night. His steps were unsteady, but he ran with all his might, as if an invisible evil spirit was chasing after his soul.
The two human soldiers exchanged a disheveled glance, not daring to linger, and hurriedly gave chase, their figures quickly disappearing into the dimly lit streets of Shajing City.
Inside the tavern, deathly silence returned.
The people sat frozen in place, as if still reeling from the bizarre turn of events. The scene of the orc verbally abusing Abar was like a bizarre nightmare.
In the corner, Mariana finally gently raised her hand and slowly pushed away the glass of water, whose surface had returned to calm.
Under the candlelight, the water stains at the bottom of the cup cast a very thin, almost invisible rune-like afterimage on the table, which vanished in an instant, as if it had never existed.
A brief silence, like a thin layer of ice, enveloped every corner of the tavern.
The people sat frozen at the table, their gazes still fixed on the doorway that had been smashed open by the orcs and remained open to this day. The wind blew in sand, the candlelight flickered, and the shadows on the wall swayed like ghosts.
Sudden--
"puff."
A soft laugh escaped from the mouth of the trembling caravan worker.
He tried to hold it in, but the laughter seemed to be squeezed out from his very insides, growing stronger the more he tried to suppress it. His shoulders trembled, and he finally burst into laughter: "Hahaha! He...he said it himself! That so-and-so is a stray dog! Hahaha!"
That laugh was like a stone breaking through the ice.
"Hahaha! And you're running away with your tail between your legs!"
"He was cursing his own boss!"
"Oh my god, I saw him cover his mouth, but the words still kept coming out!"
The laughter spread like wildfire, instantly igniting the entire tavern.
Their laughter wasn't just about the orc officer's pathetic state; it was also about the release of the fear and humiliation that had been weighing on their hearts for so long.
The grain that was forcibly requisitioned, the neighbors who were arbitrarily beaten and scolded, the young people who were locked in jail and never returned... all the pent-up frustrations turned into unrestrained, maniacal laughter at this moment.
People slammed their fists on the table, wiping away tears of laughter, shoving each other as they recounted the orc officer's twisted expression and out-of-control roar. Each repetition brought a new round of laughter, as if they had not just emerged from the shadow of fear, but had personally trampled their oppressor underfoot.
No one noticed that the woman who had remained silent in the corner had quietly gotten up. She didn't disturb anyone, not even the chair made a sound. She simply placed a silver coin on the wooden table and left with a laugh.
Mariana continued her journey westward.
The sandstorm was gradually driven away by the cold air blowing from the north, and the terrain slowly rose, revealing traces of gravel and frozen soil at the edge of the barren sand. In the distance, a huge, gray-black shadow stretched across the horizon—the Watcher's Fortress, the steel barrier of the Aldor Kingdom.
The towering stone walls were covered with arrow crenellations and watchtowers, and the flags fluttered in the cold wind. The Austrian soldiers at the city gate had eyes like eagles. Every passing carriage was stopped, its luggage was searched one by one, and travelers were questioned several times before being allowed to pass. Anyone who looked suspicious was detained on the spot and taken to the military camp for interrogation.
Although the war has taken a turn for the better, it is far from over. The threat from the grasslands remains: spies, agents, merchants colluding with orcs... everyone who comes here could be a dagger planted by Abar.
Mariana rode slowly closer on horseback.
She lowered her hood, the veil still covering her face, revealing only a pair of calm eyes. She took out a scholar's certificate from the Gabera Scholar's Tower, the handwriting neat and the seal clear.
Mariana said she was going to West College in Laketown.
The soldier carefully checked the credentials and then looked her over for a moment.
"Alone?" The officer frowned.
"The path of learning is inherently solitary." Her voice was gentle, with the restraint characteristic of a scholar.
The officer asked a few more questions, which Mariana answered one by one. Seeing that she was a woman, carrying only a rapier for self-defense, and that her demeanor was calm and not feigned, the officer finally waved her away.
"Once inside, do not stray far from the main road; checkpoints along the way will still require inspection. If there is a curfew at night, do not go out."
"Understood." Mariana nodded slightly and pulled her hood up again.
She led her mount through the heavy fortress gates and into a passageway specifically for travelers, where the long-awaited land of Aldor lay before her.
The scent of pine and fire began to waft in the wind. The fortress resembled a small town. Although the streets were heavily guarded, one could hear human conversations, children running, and the sound of blacksmiths' hammers. A long-lost order belonging to the civilized world was being restored.
In the oasis city-states that still submitted to the orcs, the atmosphere on the streets was oppressive. People spoke in hushed tones, walked hurriedly, and avoided eye contact. Even the children's playful antics were tinged with timidity.
And this place seems to have been revitalized.