Every year, the Orcish Royal Tent would send envoys to demand large quantities of cattle, sheep, and hides from various tribes, and even recruit warriors to join the Royal Tent's army.
These demands are often harsh and ruthless; those who refuse are seen as traitors and purged.
Humans only symbolically collected some furs and a small amount of supplies, without forcibly conscripting people or livestock. For these tribes, such offerings were almost negligible.
Therefore, when the expeditionary force decided to abandon the four water sources in the east and retreat to Blackwater Lake, many tribes did not choose to stay in their original places, but instead took the initiative to follow the expeditionary force westward.
They believed that living among humans was safer than facing Abar's wrath.
Of course, this choice also hides a deep fear.
They knew that Abar would not easily forgive their "betrayal," and the only thing they could do was to stay as far away from the impending storm as possible under the protection of humanity.
The symbolic taxation policy adopted by the Steppe Expeditionary Force against the local tribes was not a spur-of-the-moment decision, but rather based on the advice of the accompanying scholar, Alvis.
Alvis comes from the Maester's Tower in Gabera and is well-versed in the history of various races. After the outbreak of war with the orcs, he returned to the Northern Three Lands and followed Andrew's expeditionary force into the grasslands, observing and recording the customs and structures of the various tribes. He is now an important advisor to the expeditionary force.
He observed that although the orc tribes on the grasslands submitted to the royal tent, their connections with each other were loose. Once the royal tent lost its deterrent power, these tribes were very likely to side with the new stronger one.
Based on this assessment, Yalvis proposed a strategy: to use economic means to gradually separate these tribes from Abar's rule without provoking resentment.
He suggested that after capturing the water source, the expeditionary force should requisition a very small amount of supplies from the local tribes, such as furs, dried meat, or a small number of livestock. These supplies would be of negligible value and would hardly be a burden on the tribes' lives, but they would be enough to establish a psychological relationship between the administrator and the administrator.
"We need to get them used to handing things over to us," he wrote in a report. "Even if it's just a few scraps, it means they acknowledge our existence and accept our order."
The primary purpose of this policy was to create a sense of identity. Alvis believed that if the expeditionary force did not collect any supplies, the tribes would regard them as temporary visitors on the grasslands, while collecting too much would provoke resistance. Only by collecting in moderation could a balance be found between the two.
Andrew adopted this suggestion, and a symbolic tax system was quickly established after the expeditionary force took control of the water source.
This strategy of "light taxation and emphasis on status" did achieve its intended effect in the short term. Many tribes began to view the expeditionary force as a new provider of order, rather than simply as invaders.
This also explains why many small tribes chose to migrate with the expeditionary force when it retreated westward—they had come to regard humans as their new source of support.
In the harsh and challenging grassland environment, once the practical benefits reach a certain threshold, glory takes a backseat.
...
Abar led the main force of the orcs across the Rocky Mountains and set foot on the western grasslands once again.
But his return did not bring the expected excitement; instead, it stirred up a wave of unease.
Those tribal chiefs who remained in their original locations and did not migrate west with the expeditionary force were summoned to an ancient altar, which once symbolized the authority of the royal tent.
Abar stood atop the high platform, his gaze sweeping over the kneeling chieftains with a sharp, piercing intensity, his voice low and furious:
"Why do you accept human rule? Why don't you fight them?" He was questioning loyalty, dignity, and the pride that orcs should have.
The chiefs bowed their heads in silence for a moment, then an older chief raised his head, his voice hoarse but filled with grievance:
"It's not that we didn't fight back. We tried to attack, we tried to ambush, we even amassed a force of several thousand men… but they had armor, guns, and strong fortifications."
He paused, a hint of helplessness in his voice: "It's not that we're afraid of death, nor that we don't want to win... but we just can't win. What can we do? Watch our people and livestock die of thirst on the parched grasslands?"
These words weighed heavily on the hearts of all the chiefs. They had tried to resist, but the human army was far stronger than they had imagined; their water sources were controlled, their roads were blocked, and they had no other choice.
Abar's face grew increasingly grim. He remained silent, coldly observing the chieftains who had succumbed to the enemy. He knew their words weren't entirely excuses, but they were the very truth he least wanted to hear.
The grasslands have changed!
He must regain control of this land!
Abar didn't say another word to the chiefs; he waved them away.
The crowd on the altar quickly dispersed, leaving only the king's trusted followers standing behind him, each with a different expression.
As night fell, braziers were lit in the large tent, illuminating the solemn faces of the inhabitants.
Abar sat in the main seat, silent, waiting for his subordinates to speak.
The first to break the silence was his eldest son, Aguirre.
"Father," he said indignantly, "we cannot tolerate the betrayal of these chiefs. They are not forced into it, but are cowards who cling to life. They have accepted human rule, and many have even followed them westward. This is a disgrace to the Royal Household."
He paused, a ruthless glint in his eyes: "Those chieftains who have sided with humans should be executed, and their tribes should be brought under the direct rule of the royal court. Only in this way can we deter the other tribes and let them know the price of betrayal."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the shaman Otasi shook his head in opposition: "By recklessness, things will only get worse."
His voice was low and slow, revealing a sense of composure. "These tribes are not a monolithic entity. They only chose to follow humans to survive. If we start a purge now, it will only force them to completely side with humans, or even unite to resist us."
He raised his head and looked directly at Abar: "The hearts of men cannot be won over by swords, Great Chief."
Aguirre snorted and was about to retort when he was interrupted by another voice.
"Perhaps we should win a battle first," General Callum said calmly. "If we can defeat the humans on the battlefield and reclaim Blackwater Lake, those wavering tribes will naturally return to our side."
Arroyo nodded in agreement: "Yes, a victory is more deterrent and persuasive than a hundred dead chiefs. We must let the grasslands know that the White Wolf Clan is still powerful, and the Royal Tent is still powerful."
Silence fell inside the tent.
Abar did not immediately respond; he simply stared at the brazier, watching the flames dance on the charcoal.
He knew he had to make a choice, and that choice would determine the future of the grasslands.