Chapter 9: Disaster (I)

Bird, the ancient and majestic western border fortress of the empire, had fallen into the hands of the orcs so silently…
The old mage felt extremely heavy-hearted.
He could hardly imagine how shocked and terrified many people would be when this news reached the imperial capital…
Licking his dry lips, the knight said with a slight tremor in his voice, “Let’s try to contact the imperial capital. There’s a magic teleportation array in Fort Bird. What if the orcs…”
“Sigh.” With a soft sigh, the old mage Veston finally understood why, a year ago, Fort Bird had lost all communication and even its magic teleportation array had stopped working…
Most likely, the warriors guarding it had destroyed the array in a critical moment to prevent it from falling into the orcs’ hands. After all, such a two-way teleportation array, once in the hands of the orcs, could bring immense disaster to the empire and even the human race.
“It seems necessary to contact the imperial capital…” With another sigh, the old mage took out from his bosom a communication stone the size of a goose egg, glowing blue.
As magic energy was infused into it, the blue stone emitted a faint azure light.
Suddenly, the stone burst with intense light, followed by a “crack” as it split in two…
“Oh, damn!” The old mage frowned. Now he understood why his other two attendants hadn’t sent any messages at all…
After thinking for a moment, Veston turned to the thief and asked, “Ross, how far is the nearest city?” By city, he meant a large city equipped with a magic teleportation array.
“At my fastest speed, it might still take over ten days…” the thief replied in a hoarse voice.
“Over ten days… Anyway, first report the situation here to the imperial capital…” Saying this, the old mage turned to look in the direction of Fort Bird and sighed, “Tell them we’re in big trouble…”
“Yes!” The thief nodded.
After Veston cast a “Wind Power” spell on him, the thief rushed downhill at his fastest speed, vanishing into the forest like a gust of wind.
“I hope we can still make it in time…”
Hearing the old mage’s muttering, the knight asked doubtfully, “Are the orcs… very powerful?”

The old mage turned around and saw the confusion on the knight’s face. Shaking his head, he explained, “To be honest, I’ve never met these ‘guests’ from the distant west, but I’ve read in the history of magic that orcs are not a kind race…”
“Oh no, that’s terrible…” the young knight said, licking his dry lips.
Suddenly, his expression changed as he pointed at the distant fortress and asked strangely, “My lord, what are those smoke plumes?”
The old mage turned his head and squinted at the ancient fortress, saying, “It might be those beasts preparing breakfast…”
“What kind of breakfast?” the knight asked instinctively, but upon seeing the old mage’s expression, he quickly added, “Please don’t say— I don’t want to know…”
Watching the young knight struggle to hold back his nausea, the old mage shook his head and said with a wry smile, “It’s not what you think. According to the history of magic, although orcs are brutal, they’re different from ogres… Of course, in times of food scarcity, it’s possible…”
The knight felt uneasy when he heard the howling sounds coming from the fortress…
“Respected Archmage, are you sure we have to stay here forever?”
The old mage could sense the fear in the young knight’s heart. He didn’t blame him—every royal knight was a warrior trained in the empire’s traditional knightly arts and had been a key force in the attack on Salonia. Even powerful white mages couldn’t make these brave royal knights surrender… Fear didn’t mean they had lost their will to resist!
The old mage didn’t explain, but his calmness helped ease the young knight’s fear.
The orcs seemed to be taking action, assembling a force of about three or four hundred. What exactly did they plan to do?
Suddenly, an old orc stepped out of the fortress. Different from the ordinary orcs, he leaned on a cane and wore a cloak made of bird feathers. The moment he appeared, all the orcs fell silent.
A shaman!
Wiston’s expression grew serious because he felt that the old orc seemed to have noticed him…
He had clearly blocked any signals…
“What do they want?” the young knight asked, filled with disgust. He saw that after the old orc muttered a few words, all the orcs became agitated, howling as they slammed their crude axes and shields.
“Ancestors? An altar?” Ignoring the knight’s question, Wiston struggled to understand the orc language.

As a seasoned and powerful archmage, Viston had learned some of the languages of ancient races from the history of magic—such as elves and orcs… Unfortunately, knowledge was merely knowledge; limited to vocabulary alone, Viston couldn’t decipher what the old orc had said. But upon seeing the orc’s direction of movement, he suddenly remembered something… Humans occupied the most fertile lands on the continent, lands that originally belonged to the orcs. The orcs had established a powerful tribe there, akin to human castles or imperial capitals… Orcs revered strength and worshipped their mighty ancestors. Once, a shaman had built an altar here to honor what they considered great ancestors, right on this very land… After the orcs were driven far to the west, humans destroyed that altar but did not build cities there because it was relatively barren. It wasn’t until many years later that a human town appeared on the site of the orc altar… Yes, just a town! And the name of this town was Set, which in ancient languages meant “ancient ruins”… “Damn it!” Viston muttered under his breath, then turned to the knight urgently, “The orcs are likely targeting that town. Hurry back and warn the townspeople!” “A town?” The knight was puzzled and asked uncertainly, “Set?” “Go quickly!” “Yes!” The knight turned around at once, about to descend the mountain, when it seemed he remembered something and turned back, asking, “Then you…” As he spoke, he saw the old mage gently stroking his staff. Seeming to understand, the knight gave a solemn knightly salute and headed downhill. Could history’s disasters repeat themselves? With a long sigh, Viston slowly made his way downhill, waiting quietly at the orcs’ path. All he could do was do his best to delay their advance, buying time for the knight and the people of Set Town. Of course, what concerned him most was his highly satisfactory “apprentice”—he certainly didn’t want his favorite apprentice to die at the hands of those brutal orcs. Before long, the several hundred-orc army discovered Viston’s presence… No wonder—after all, the archmage was standing there quietly in the wilderness. Perhaps driven by ancient hatred, a dozen orcs at the front of the group charged forward with howls… “Foolish!” The old mage smiled slightly. His right hand was covered in deep blue electric sparks, crackling with energy.

“Hoo hoo!” (Orc language: Return!)
The dozen or so orcs, less than twenty meters away from Wiston, suddenly stopped and turned to look behind them.
Wiston, who was already prepared to use his strongest lightning magic, also found it strange and couldn’t understand why the orcs had suddenly become quiet.
The words came from an old orc sitting on a giant wolf—the leader of the orc clan, a shaman!
“I can sense your powerful strength, human!”
“Huh?” Wiston was stunned. Could this orc speak human language?
“Don’t be surprised,” the old orc slowly guided his giant wolf forward and said, looking at Wiston, “The tribe’s stone tablets record your language. Compared to the complex language of the dragons, your human language isn’t hard to understand…”
“That’s good!” Wiston nodded, controlling the magic flowing from his hands as he sneered, “You’re not staying in the distant west and invading our human territory just to start another war?!”
“Your human territory?” A hint of mockery appeared on the old orc’s fierce face. “Is it really yours?”
Wiston fell silent for a moment before saying in a deep voice, “It is now! And it will be in the future!” As he spoke, the electricity in his hands grew stronger.
“You are a powerful alchemist, and the tribe respects the strong… but it does not fear them!” After a pause, the old orc continued, “I don’t want to start a war. I just want to reclaim the glory that belongs to our tribe…”
“After capturing our fortress, you still dare say you don’t want to start a war?” Wiston sneered.
“Yes!” The old orc nodded, with a hint of regret, “But I’m not lying… Unfortunately, my opinion can’t influence the decisions of the seven great shamans in our tribe. And… you humans are too arrogant, ignoring our tribe’s demands. Initially, our tribe only wanted to retrieve our ancestors’ altars. For that, we waited for over a hundred years, but none of the warriors we sent back…”
“…” The old mage’s expression became strange. He vaguely remembered that in history, orcs had appeared several times in the west of the empire, only to be killed by local mercenaries. There was even a count who sent an army of two hundred men to deal with them…
“Then how do you explain that fortress?”

“I’ve said it before—I don’t want to start a war. But my clan is just a small one among the tribes… My task is to retrieve our ancestors’ altar. I don’t want war, nor do I want to be your enemy… Please step aside, human warrior!”
“That’s impossible!” Wiston shook his head. “As the royal chief mage, I can’t do that!” He hesitated for a moment, then frowned and said, “If you merely want to retrieve the altar’s site without starting a war, then please leave Bird Fortress. I’ll report this to our king and ask him to…”
“We’ve been waiting for over a hundred years…” The old orc interrupted Wiston, shaking his head. “We don’t trust you humans. And for my clan, I must retrieve our ancestors’ altar, even if it means starting a war! The tribe fears no war!” He glanced at Wiston and said again, “Please step aside, human!”
Wiston smiled faintly, glanced at the ball of electricity forming in his right hand, and shook his head. “I’ve said it before—as the royal chief mage and as a human, I… can’t do that!”
“That’s too unfortunate…” The old orc shook his head in disappointment and slowly raised his staff…