Lemester slowly rose from his seat.
"Fifty thousand gold coins! Your Excellency Chieftain!"
He looked at Yulga. "I can only pay a deposit of fifty thousand gold coins!"
"This..." Chief Yulga scratched his head, "Alright, then it'll be 50,000 gold coins. I want it now, and I'll count it myself!"
"Yes!" Lemester turned to the attendant beside him.
"Take Chieftain Yulga to the treasury and withdraw fifty thousand gold coins." His voice regained its usual authority, and he looked at the orc chieftain: "Yulga, this is just a deposit—if your warrior performs well in battle, I am willing to pay a commission higher than the one hundred thousand gold coins you requested!"
"Hehehe!" Yulga licked his lips with delight. "Your Grace, we certainly won't let you down!"
The attendant led the orc chieftain out of the council hall.
The treasurer, Horn, gasped: "Your Grace, 100,000 gold coins is almost a third of ours..."
"It's worth it." Lemester suddenly raised his voice, causing the flame on the gilded candlestick to flicker.
"The Bradley family legacy cannot end in my generation!"
He walked to the window and pointed to the majestic outline of the city wall in the distance: "The walls of Windbreak Fortress are twenty feet thick, and the outer moat is filled with running water. The grain stored in the cellar is enough to last for two years."
As he turned, a sickly blush appeared on his pale face. "Abal's army is good at field battles, but they have never seriously defended any city, which is why Gryman's army was able to advance so easily. But in fact, defending a city is more advantageous to the weaker side. Storm's End has been managed by the Bradley family for a century, and its strength is no less than that of Watchers' Fortress. With proper planning, it can withstand an enemy ten times its size."
"No matter how powerful Gleman's firearms are, he still needs to send soldiers to storm the city to achieve final victory. They cross three moats and climb the high city walls. Once they finally manage to reach the inner city, every street and alley will become a slaughterhouse. If the Northwesterners can hold the small Stone Bridge Town under the siege of the orc army, can't we, with our more solid defenses, replicate their miracle?"
He became more and more excited as he spoke, waving his hands unconsciously, "Let those peasants see what a real city defense battle is like!"
He turned his head and caught a glimpse of Longfellow's still pale face, so he walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "My knight, your previous defeat will not be repeated. In open terrain, cavalry is indeed no match for muskets. But on the narrow battlements?" He gave a confident smile, "Greyman's soldiers don't have four arms—two for climbing ladders and the other two for firing their guns, do they? They won't have their hands free. Our fully armed knights can cut down ten such soldiers!"
When a glimmer of hope appears, and after convincing himself of it, he immediately transforms from endless despair into intense self-confidence; Lemester was such a person.
He now felt he could achieve his goal, which was not to defeat the kingdom's army, but to force Aldo to give him lenient treatment by inflicting heavy losses on the kingdom's army, so that the Lemester family could continue to rule this land as lords for generations to come.
"Gentlemen!" Lymester raised his glass, the crystal reflecting a crimson light in the candlelight. "Let us teach Paul Gleman a lesson he will never forget."
...
In the camp of the Wugu tribe, more than a dozen iron and wooden crates were roughly pried open.
The moment the lid of the box was overturned, a golden light instantly illuminated the entire tent, eclipsing even the fire in the stove.
"Hahaha! Look at these shiny little cuties!" Yulga grabbed a handful of gold coins, letting them jingle and fall back into the box through his fingers.
With a wave of his thick arm, dozens of gold coins rained down on the onlookers. The orcs cheered deafeningly and rushed towards the rolling gold coins.
A young orc warrior caught a gold coin, placed it between his fangs, and bit down hard, the brass earrings jingling with his movement.
"Chief, how many barrels of ale can this be exchanged for?" he asked excitedly, his hairy face gleaming with excitement.
"Enough to soak you all into barrels of wine!" Yulga laughed maniacally as he kicked open another chest, and even more gold coins poured out. The orcs went completely mad; they used their battle axes to cleave open the remaining chests, and some even threw themselves into the pile of gold coins and rolled around in it.
In the corner, the shaman Goruk frowned. "Chieftain, are we really going to stay and help those humans defend the city?" His withered fingers rubbed a gold coin bearing the image of a human king. "The Northwest Legion's muskets are no joke..."
"Defend the city?" Yurga suddenly burst into a deafening laugh, grabbing Goruk's shoulder and reeking of alcohol in the shaman's face. "My dear Goruk, when have you ever seen a wolf guarding a sheep's house?"
The laughter in the tent stopped abruptly. The young warrior, Brock, scratched the scar on his head: "But you promised that pale-faced human..." He had gone to the Bradley family's castle with Yulga.
"I was just fooling that fool!" Yurga grinned smugly, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. He untied a heavy leather bag from his waist and tossed it to Brock. "Go, distribute these to the sentries and tell them to keep a close watch on the gate and not let outsiders near our camp. I need to discuss a big plan with Goruk!"
The shaman asked, puzzled, "What grand plan?"
"Take all of the Bradley family's gold coins!"
"What? This..."
Yurga sat cross-legged on the animal skin rug, his rough fingers dipped in ale, drawing crooked lines on the wooden box.
"Watch closely, old friend!" he whispered, his eyes gleaming with greed. "The vault is under the west tower of the castle, through three iron gates."
Goruk narrowed his eyes, his finger tracing the path drawn by the wine stain: "Guards?"
"Three hundred armored idiots," Yurga scoffed, tearing a piece of meat from his waist and gnawing on it. "But when the Northwesterners get close, at least two-thirds will be sent to guard the city walls—I overheard their conversation."
The soldiers' drunken singing drifted from outside the tent, conveniently masking their plot.
The shaman's lips curled into a sinister smile, revealing jagged, yellow teeth: "Need some sleeping powder? My new formula can take down a mammoth."
"Of course, the more the better!" Yulga pulled a dirty roll of paper from his pocket: "And this, I've actually been observing it in the nearby tavern for several days."
The unfolded paper clearly showed the changing of the guard schedule for the castle.
"So you've been eyeing the Bradley family's vault all along!"
The two exchanged a glance and simultaneously let out a low laugh.