Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 179 Special Recruitment: The Nightmare of the Human Race on the North and South Plains

General Sagris returned "victorious".

During this southern expedition, the troops commanded by General Bloodhowl encountered ambushes from a large number of human forces. Especially in the battle of Skyfrost City, facing an attack by elite troops three times their size, the general remained calm in the face of danger, killed enemy generals and captured flags, and fought his way out.

But victory is not without cost.

Of the wasteland orcs, only Sargeris's "Gorehowl" guards survived. The plains orcs, who participated in the vanguard, flanks, and rearguard, were almost entirely wiped out.

Only a few bewildered tribal warriors who had remained within the central army formation survived by sheer luck.

The first thing Sagris did upon returning to White Deer Plain was to report the victory!
They made a great show of it, sending a resounding announcement of their victory to the royal court.

"Two enemy viscounts and eleven barons were defeated in a direct confrontation, and more than twenty unrecorded nobles were also defeated."

"Six legionary flags, nine noble heraldic flags, and more than forty noble badges of various sizes were captured."

It's reasonable to have more badges. An enemy family might have several members with badges, and with a wave of his hand, General Bloodhowl could wipe them all out.

This was only because General Bloodhowl was soft-hearted; if he had been a little more ruthless, he might have even been able to exchange for the Cloud Mist Territory's lord's flag.

Well, we still couldn't agree on the price.

Along the way, in addition to displaying these battle flags and documents in full force, the triumphant procession also carried various damaged human armors, broken spears and greatswords, piles of silk, hemp, and fur like small mountains, and a small amount of gold and silver ornaments on the earth-dragon wagon.

Anyone with eyes can see that while it's hard to say whether the battle was won or not, they certainly didn't manage to loot much.

The second thing Sagris did was to purge the troops!

Qishan Pass, once a natural gateway symbolizing the southward advance and unbridled roaming of the orcish army, is now heavily guarded and filled with swords and spears.

As the starting point and the end point of this "spring hunt" army, Sagris stood on the stone-built watchtower, gazing south for a long time.

The biting north wind brought the unique scent of the northern wilderness, stirring Sargeris's slightly reddish beard and hair. After much deliberation, he finally made up his mind.

He can't go back yet!
If I go back now, I have no idea whether I will be able to participate in the next large-scale "autumn hunt".

This clandestine collusion and underhanded dealings with the human race are extremely serious. It's unclear when or how much will be leaked.

Only by staying on the front lines can we minimize the possibility of unexpected situations.

How can one ensure they don't leave the front lines?
At this time, the group of "Never-Return" descendants among the humans who had defected to the orcs and were previously rejected by Sargeris and left at the Flag Mountain camp provided Sargeris with a complete, effective, and systematic set of suggestions.

The "bei" in "wolf and jackal collude" and the "chang" in "acting as an accomplice to a tiger" represent the ecological niche of this group of "non-returners".

Sargeras Bloodhowl began to gather the remaining generals under his command.

The order was quickly relayed by the messenger, and soon, the heavy footsteps and the clanging of armor plates broke the brief tranquility of the camp.

Orc generals from various tribes, each with a different expression, gathered in the largest military tent in the center of the army with a sense of unease.

Those who survived round after round of purges and abandonment were mainly three forces.

The first group consists of old Karl and a few of his direct shamans. These cannot be touched; even if they die of illness on the road, it is unacceptable. Losing the ancestral shamans is tantamount to losing one's political life.

The second group consists of Sargeras Gorehowl's loyal followers, his staunch supporters, who would follow him even if he rebelled.

There is also a third force, the orc tribe, which is all muscle and not much brains.

For example, the minotaurs recruited from Skyreach Ridge, the black bear tribe from Howling Forest, and the honey badgers from Shattered Stone Valley...

These fellows survived because they could not see through Lord Sargeris's ingenious scheme.

It's clear that if you don't know how to choose sides, the smarter you are, the more likely you are to get into trouble; it's better to be a little foolish.

The orc generals sat in the large tent, their faces displaying expressions ranging from ferocious to puzzled to confused, as they questioned each other.

Once everyone had arrived, Sagris rose from the large chair at the head of the table. His voice was low, but it instantly silenced all the whispers.

"Gentlemen! We're back."

"Bearing the glory and pride of the orc race, and also pain and sacrifice!"

Sagris paused slightly, seemingly gathering his emotions, or perhaps observing the reaction.

"We dealt a heavy blow to those foolish humans. The enemy's corpses filled the city walls and crossroads. We thwarted their plot, successfully broke through their carefully laid trap, and achieved a brilliant victory!"

"However, the enemy is more cunning and ruthless than we imagined! They not only deployed far more warriors and mages than we did, but also used an evil power we had never seen before! A pseudo-magic from beyond the realm, blasphemous to our ancestors!"

"Our brave warriors shed much extra blood! Many fine children were unable to return to this land where their wives, children, and people lived!"

Sagris slammed his fist heavily on the location of Qishan Pass on the map, making a dull thud.

"Now, it's our turn to protect their people!"

“Enemy scouts are lurking at the gate, and could infiltrate Bailu Plain at any moment. Therefore, the ‘spring hunt’ is far from over!”

General Bloodhowl surveyed the entire area, his gaze finally settling on the plains orc leaders, his words carrying an undeniable firmness.

"Therefore, I have decided that the army will not return north to the royal court for the time being! All units, with the Qishan camp as the center, shall immediately enter a state of defensive readiness!"

"Before the royal court's 'autumn hunt' army arrives, we will take on the responsibility of defending against enemy counterattacks, clearing enemy reconnaissance, and preparing for the main army's counter-offensive!"

The generals all looked at each other in bewilderment.

This was the tactic "The Unreturning One" devised for Sargeras: while boasting of his own military achievements, he exaggerated the threat posed by the enemy, using the excuse of continuing defense to prolong the "Spring Hunt."

As long as the special status of the Spring Hunt remains in effect, Sargeris will remain the general appointed by the royal court, possessing the power of life and death on the White Deer Plains on behalf of the Orcish royal court.

As for how long this special state will last...

That depends on the actual needs of General Bloodhowl!

A bear tribe general asked, seemingly understanding but not quite, "In the past, after a battle, we would always return to our tribal stronghold, right? Otherwise, if the stronghold were contested by others, what would happen if we, the warriors, were at a disadvantage?"

Sagris interrupted it bluntly: "That was after the war was over. Now, the war is far from over!"

"How can your own tribe's petty affairs compare to the great cause of my orc race?"

The bear clan leader was choked red-faced and retreated sullenly, not daring to say another word.

Sargeris surveyed his surroundings, his eyes flashing with a fierce light: "Not only will you not return, but we will also further strengthen our forces!"

"The enemy could invade Bailu Plain at any time. In order to ensure the success of the autumn hunt, I hereby announce the reconstruction of the Qishan North and South Camps!"

This was a truly momentous event for the plains orcs.

When was the last time the Qishan North and South Camps were built? It was when Razor Fortress was still standing, which is now more than twenty years ago.

None of the orc generals present were even born at that time.

Therefore, they cannot clearly understand what this concept is at this moment, but that's okay, Sagris will soon tell them the details.

"Effective immediately, all tribes in the White Deer Plain will be placed under wartime control!"

"First, all tribes will be subject to an additional 30% tax on grain and meat, based on their previously registered annual tax payments! Inner ring tribes have three weeks, and outer ring tribes have one month, to deliver the goods to the Qishan camp! Those who disobey this order will be treated as traitors!"

"Secondly, all male orcs aged sixteen to fifty from each tribe will be conscripted, trained, and await orders! I will send out conscription teams to each tribe at the beginning of next month to select soldiers!"

"Third, in addition to their original armored infantry, each tribe must submit a certain number of iron armor, weapons, war wolves or warhorses according to this list to bolster their military equipment."

"Those who are unable to hand over supplies shall hand over excess grain or property!"

"Each tribe must also send me a certain number of slave laborers, according to their size, to help me rebuild the northern and southern camps!"

As Sargeris uttered a series of harsh orders, even the most dull-witted plains orc chieftain gradually lost his color in his face.

Of course, the brilliant idea of ​​the "Non-Returners" wouldn't immediately push the entire plains tribe to the opposite side.

Sagris cleared his throat.

“I know that it is not easy for everyone’s tribe to survive on the White Deer Plain, and they may be facing some difficulties for the time being.”

"So, I'm not entirely unreasonable." "If you can't complete the task for some special reason, you should at least come and explain the situation to me and express your sincerity. After discussing it with High Shaman Karl, we'll see if we can grant an extension, a replacement, or a reduction!"

"In short, everyone should be of one mind and considerate of each other, and do their utmost for His Majesty's great cause and the glory of the beast race!"

The biting north wind outside the tent howled louder and louder, eventually becoming a long, drawn-out wail.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

White Deer Plain, a settlement of the Fuzhao tribe.

This place is less a tribe and more a large, disorganized village.

The houses, crudely constructed of earth and wood, were low and cramped. Animal droppings and garbage were scattered everywhere on the muddy streets. The air was filled with the smells of mutton, rotting food, and a faint, strong body odor that came from the large gathering of orcs.

Of course, this is still considered the "outpost area" of the orc headquarters; the living conditions of the vassal humans on the outskirts are even worse.

Compared to this, even the slums of the Blue Star Ganges Lotus Federation can be considered "high-end residential areas"!
This is a microcosm of the many ordinary human settlements on the White Deer Plain. Most of the humans living here are descendants of humans who were captured and enslaved after the orcs invaded the White Deer Plain, or slaves and their descendants who were gradually plundered from the south.

After more than a hundred years of reproduction and gradual influence, the human race has fully accepted this fate of being enslaved. To be able to become a laborer in the orc territory, to farm and pay rent, and to live a life of half-starvation is their greatest wish in this life.

Most of them have forgotten the human language and can only speak some simple orc slang.

However, Amu was an exception. He was not only a hired worker, but also knew some human languages, making him one of the few "respectable people" among the humans in this area!
He even has a wife and children.

He was already ten years old when he was captured from the south. Although he had spent more than ten years on this plain, he had not forgotten the language of his hometown.

With a hunched back, Amu laboriously stacked the last bundle of hay on the rickety roof of the shed. Although he was not old, and would be considered a strong and vigorous person in human society, he was already an elder in the orc tribe.

Excluding the appalling infant mortality rate, the average lifespan of humans here is less than forty years.

Amu rubbed his palms together; they were rough like old tree bark, covered with deep cracks, and where there were no cracks, there were thick calluses. The summer sun had already taken on a harsh edge, and sweat seeped from his dark scalp, trickling down his deep wrinkles.

After finishing his work, Amu straightened up, rubbed his aching back, and looked with his cloudy eyes at the vast, lush wheat field on the outskirts of the tribe.

The wheat is growing very well, and the ears of wheat have begun to turn yellow. There are a few small plots of wheat fields that belong to Amu and will be ready for harvest in about two months.

However, at this moment, there was no joy on Amu's face, but rather a deep cloud of worry.

A few days ago, the otter-headed beastman leader of the Rotten Swamp tribe conveyed a new order from the Flag Mountain Camp: this year's grain tax will be increased by 50%!

This news was like a boulder, weighing heavily on the hearts of all the hired workers, making it hard to breathe. Faced with such man-made and natural disasters, their ability to withstand risks was even less than that of pure slaves, since slaves had masters to provide them with food and drink, while hired workers did not.

This 50% surcharge is like a gleaming knife, directly cutting off the very source of everyone's livelihood!

The family's meager food supplies were completely wiped out. Even if they secretly hid some in the fields and went out to pick more wild vegetables and herbs, they probably wouldn't last until the next harvest season.

I'm afraid I'll have to get some waterlogged, unripe wheat from the fields in advance to keep my family alive.

"Sigh..." Amu sighed, picked up a broken ceramic bowl at his feet, and took a sip of the murky, astringent cold water.

Water can temporarily suppress hunger, but it cannot suppress the panic in one's heart.

What to do tomorrow?
“Dad…” a weak voice sounded from the side.

Amu looked down and saw his little girl timidly tugging at his trouser leg. The little girl was thin and pale, with her big eyes standing out. She was holding an even smaller boy in her arms, who was crying loudly.

"Dad, my little brother is crying because he's hungry. Mom told me to come find you..."

Amu took his youngest son, then stroked Lina's dry, yellow hair, and said in a low, hoarse voice, "Wait until tonight... I'll think of something tonight... She can't eat during the day, everyone's watching!"

The daughter nodded understandingly, but the son, who was still too young to understand, continued to cry. After trying to soothe him for a while without success, Amu simply tossed the child aside.

Forget it, I'll stop when my voice gets hoarse and I'm too tired.

The daughter couldn't help but go over and hug her younger brother again, gently coaxing him and singing the nursery rhyme that Amu had taught her, a song from her hometown in the far south.

"The crescent moon is curved, and the ears of grain are pointed; "

The fire in the stove has gone out, but the fruit is still sweet.
Don't open your eyes when the wind shakes the tree;
"Baby, go home and sleep when you're tired!"

"Dogs burrow into holes, night birds patrol the fields; "

Wrapped in linen, stardust covered the eaves;
Whose kid is stealing sour fruit?
Don't blame fate if you have a stomachache tomorrow!

Sleep well, sleep well, the moon is smiling little face;

Sleep well, sleep well, the baby is growing round and plump;
Get plenty of sleep and you'll grow taller!

"When I grow up, I'll wield a knight's sword!"

The child, perhaps exhausted from crying, or perhaps because his older sister's attempts to lull him to sleep had worked, gradually quieted down. But just then, a piercing horn blared, instantly disrupting the entire camp.

Immediately afterward, the rough shouts of the otter-boar orc guards rang out from afar: "Assemble! Men of the tribe, assemble in the square! Quickly!"

Amu's heart sank suddenly, and an ominous premonition lingered in his mind.

He hurriedly picked up the child, and with his panicked wife and child, he staggered along with the chaotic crowd towards the small earthen square in the center of the tribe.

The square was already packed with people, almost the entire human race of the Rotten Swamp tribe had been driven there. The crowd whispered anxiously, and the children cried loudly in fear of the tense atmosphere, but the adults covered their mouths tightly.

On a low earthen platform in front of the square stood the orc leader of the Otter-Headed Beastmen, "Gaptooth".

The Otter-boar Beastman is a subspecies of the Boar Beastman tribe. They have a distinctive arched nose, an extremely strong sense of smell, and a violent temperament. However, at this moment, "Gap-Tooth" was bowing and scraping to several large Beastmen.

It was as honest as a guinea pig, not a wild boar.

Seeing that almost everyone had arrived, the "gap-toothed" leader dropped his fawning smile, cleared his throat, and walked to the front of the stage:

"Quiet! Quiet down! Your good days have come!"

"By order of General Bloodhowl, a group of slave laborers will be conscripted to the Vulture Cliff Mine to mine ore for the army. All males in the tribe aged 15 to 30 should go home and bring their own food and clothing. Tomorrow morning, come here to wait for the adults sent by the general to make their selections!"

The words "gap-toothed" exploded like a bolt from the blue in the crowd!

Vulture Cliff Mine! It's the most famous iron mine in the White Deer Plain. Orcs naturally don't care about safety or labor protections, and the human overseers mixed in there take the exploitation to the extreme in order to curry favor with their masters.

Of those conscripted there, very few returned alive.

Heavy labor, harsh conditions, inhuman abuse... it was a black hole that devoured lives! A notorious land of death!

Cries and pleas filled the air instantly.

"No! We can't go!"

"My lord! Please! Let us go!"

"We still need to harvest the wheat! Without us, the wheat will rot in the fields!"

The wolf clan officer from the Qishan camp frowned, seemingly extremely disgusted by the noise.

He suddenly waved his hand, and the orc soldiers behind him drew their gleaming scimitars in unison. A chilling killing intent spread out, instantly silencing the cries and screams on the field.

This night was a sleepless one for most of the humans in the Rotten Swamp tribe.

Amu held his family members who were constantly weeping. He knew very well that if he were taken away, the remaining one adult and two children in the family would almost certainly have no chance of survival.

Rebellion was something Amu had never thought of, nor dared to think of.

The humans in the camp were lowly, base, and ignorant; they couldn't even write their own names and could only cry and beg.

Even if everyone in the camp rose up in resistance, it would only waste more of the otter-headed beastmen's strength. Moreover, most of the human slaves would simply submit to slaughter.

The thought of fleeing, like wild grass, sprouted wildly in his heart for the first time.

But where can we escape to?

Orc tribes were everywhere, and for fleeing humans, execution was the gentlest form of punishment.

Just as families like Amu were mournfully praying to every god they could think of on the White Deer Plain, a young lord arrived by boat, his boots landing on the easternmost edge of the plain, due to the sudden changes that had occurred there.

(End of this chapter)