The cow-girl lowered her head.
Already three heads taller than her little father, her gaze didn't meet the eyes of the boy leading her by the hand; instead, she stared at the ground.
"But that's serious work..."
"Let the second child cover for you longer, and I'll take you fishing!"
Al upped the ante.
The cow-girl nodded and picked up her little father, placing him on her shoulder.
The group headed toward Misha's office.
The office was the royal tent Al had previously occupied. After the palace was mostly built, Al moved in, and the tent was left for Misha.
It served as the workplace for the head of scions and the tribe's third-in-command.
Originally, Misha wanted to work near Al's palace or directly inside it.
But due to resistance from the centaur girl and Al (secretly), she had to settle for second best.
She chose Al's old residence.
Al, his eldest daughter, and the widow walked inside. The attendants and guards remained outside.
Al found a rug and sat down casually, while the widow stood respectfully by the boy's side.
He chatted with Misha. As for the excuse of "personally overseeing the Goddess's altars," it was tossed to who-knows-where.
Showing up to host the ceremony later should be enough, right?
Al thought perfunctorily. He planned to dawdle for a while until the time was right, then drag the cow-girl back to the palace with him.
The centaur girl's dissatisfaction should be stabilized by then.
It wouldn't be a situation where she'd tuck her adopted son under her arm the moment they met and drag him to a dark room to be drained.
The All-Knowing Blessing signaled an anomaly!
Al's expression froze. He closed his eyes, sinking his mind inward.
The scouts of the vanguard force—who had already given up the ambush camp and retreated thirty miles—had suddenly encountered red dots representing the enemy. Combat had broken out!
"The Greenskins are attacking again so soon?"
Al's expression grew heavy. Misha also realized there was an emergency.
The cow-girl stood up; the tent, which had been specially heightened to accommodate the centaur girl, was quite suitable for her.
Then he thought, "Well, they are Greenskins after all... creatures with nothing but war in their brains."
The clash between the Greenskin vanguard's spider-riding Goblins and the tribal ambushers—although the exchange ratio favored Al.
Exchanging heads was a concept that didn't apply to Greenskins.
For a species that reproduced asexually and could grow from the soil, trees,
or even corpses—no matter what you thought, the Greenskins wouldn't feel the pain or the loss.
Al felt like he was losing.
Greenskins had no such thoughts. Instead, they would only: WAAAAAGH!!!
They grew excited over enemies and combat—things most people in this world wouldn't like.
If not for the constraints of their Warlord, they probably would have already swarmed into the Piña Forest to chop everything in sight.
Eventually defeating the enemy's final resistance and destroying their tribes and camps, or getting pounded into a rout and fleeing for their lives.
So, they couldn't be treated like normal enemies...
Though it seemed that up to now, besides Greenskins, Al had only beaten Chaos beasts in the woods for his daily routine; he hadn't met other types of enemy armies.
But it was fine that the Greenskins were this reckless.
This recklessness, or rather, brainless, fanatical belligerence, brought a swiftness that often worked wonders against most enemies in other regions (like the Empire or Dwarfs).
But in this region.
The Piña Forest!
I was, I was... I was driven from my home, then manipulated and enslaved by evil gods!
"Now, you actually dare to invade my territory!"
"You are truly seeking your own deaths!"
Misha didn't understand the concept of "chuunibyou," so she didn't feel embarrassed.
She only felt her little father's tone had suddenly become very deep, with an intentionally "vicious" edge.
The widow kept her head lowered, a faint smile curling her lips.
"This way, the first and second conditions can be satisfied together soon. As long as the Greenskins can't break Lileath's mists, their only path is to go north and pound the Estalians."
Al grew serious and communicated with Misha.
The assembled army consumed a lot of supplies every day. Faith and passion alone couldn't compensate for that.
If Chaos were strong, under the light of the Chaos Moon and the blowing of the Warp Winds, they could be full of energy without food or drink.
But if that happened, there would likely be massive armies also blessed by the "Four Gods" coming south to settle the score with Al over what constitutes Chaos orthodoxy.
Although they were fighting on home turf, Al carefully tallied the tribe's current reserves. The situation wasn't great.
The war with the Greenskins had to end as quickly as possible. If it turned into a war of attrition with battlefields in the central, western, and southern forests, organized production and clearing would be severely restricted and weakened.
He might not be able to outlast the Greenskins.
The worst-case scenario had likely occurred: that special Greenskin Warlord had forced the Estalian capital, Magritta, to surrender.
Using that, he had overawed other southern regions. The Greenskin army now had more than half of the southern kingdom supplying them.
Meanwhile, Al could only rely on the tribe and about 240,000 to 250,000 refugees.
Currently, more than half of that population consisted of dependents.
And that was even with women capable of labor changing into long pants and sleeves to participate in the work.
"I believe the best tactic right now is to lure the enemy deep."
Misha proposed to Al: "Adopt a trapezoidal defense. Resist step by step, retreat step by step. Wear down the Greenskin strength while lengthening their supply lines, drawing them deep into Piña. Then concentrate our forces via ley line teleportation to cut off the enemy's weak points and deliver a decisive blow."
Much of the scions' knowledge was innate. The power contained within the blessings upon Al would flow into his bloodline children.
And this did not decrease his own power.
Al nodded, then shook his head. He issued a summons to his second son, Kael'thas Simon.
At the same time, he called for the commanders of the Blood Oath Brotherhood and the Vanguard Legion.
Through the All-Knowing blessing, he could roughly perceive the massive clusters of red dots.
Representing a huge number of Greenskin enemies, they were continuously pouring into the forest, closing in on the nearest vanguard legion.
"That would indeed be best."
"However..." Al's gaze turned icy as he looked at the large map of Estalia mounted on a board at the side of the tent.
A large area was specifically dedicated to the Piña Forest and its surroundings.
"The Greenskin commander is no ordinary Greenskin. Strictly speaking, I even suspect it might be a..." Al shook his head, clearing the strange suspicion from his mind.
He continued to his eldest daughter:
"In the previous battles, we have already displayed significant power. This is a considerable threat to a massive WAAAAAGH!. Otherwise, the Greenskins wouldn't have mobilized a grand army to attack us first before heading north."
"Weak in the front, strong in the back, lure the enemy deep... if that Great Warlord is personally leading, or if the Greenskin general leading this legion is also a cautious fellow, they probably won't fall for it easily."
"I believe..."
Al paused. He walked to the map, hands behind his back, staring dead at the section for the Piña Forest.
"We can show weakness at the start... but at the second and third lines, we must display enough strength and a resolute attitude of holding our ground. By doing this, the Greenskins will surely choose to besiege us no matter what!"
"At that moment, the main legion will strike via ley line teleportation to deliver the decisive blow!"
Al turned to look at Misha. A trace of uncontrollable excitement surfaced on his eldest daughter's face.
"We'll talk more about this together later. Collective wisdom, right? Let's see which method has higher feasibility."
He couldn't be absolute. Al was confident, but not that confident. One has to believe in everyone's wisdom!
"This time, I wish to follow my father's banner and step onto the battlefield with my brothers!"
The cow-girl's tone was ecstatic. The mantle of the steady, mature head of scions had shed.
Fervent and impassioned, her emotions were identical to those of all the scions toward Al.