After the snow, the sky cleared. Sunlight filtered through the bare branches, casting dappled shadows on the snow-covered ground of the Blackrock Clan.
The tribe was a scene of busy activity: over at the Lumber Yard, a dozen hobgoblins were swinging axes to chop trees. With a loud "crack," the frozen, rock-hard trunks snapped under the blow, while the goblins, working in pairs, laboriously dragged the wood back toward the tribe.
The quarry was even louder; more than twenty greenskins surrounded the stone pit. Some smashed rocks with Kurzadh hammers, others pried up slabs with Kurzadh chisels, the "clanging" echoing through the valley. Five hobgoblin spearmen were posted nearby, their spear tips pointed toward the forest, vigilant against any beasts that might appear.
Kurzadh stood on the steps of the boss's hut, feeling much more at ease looking at the organized scene.
Since the hobgoblin spearman Camp and the archer Camp were built and sixty elite troops were trained, the safety of the tribe was secured.
He divided the spearmen and archers into three teams: one guarding the palisade, one patrolling, and one rotating guard duty at the Lumber Yard and the quarry. The goblins were also kept obedient by Scarface, and aside from occasionally stealing dried mushrooms, they hadn't caused any trouble.
Despite this sense of security, one thing still weighed heavily on Kurzadh's mind: iron ore.
If the greenskins wanted to become strong, they couldn't do without iron.
axes couldn't cleave through iron armor, and wooden bows couldn't penetrate hard plating; only iron tools could truly make the tribe formidable.
Recently, he had sent many greenskins out to search for iron ore. Wreelx led the archers to scout the eastern valleys, and Zaggur took the spearmen to search the western rocky beaches. He even instructed Scarface's goblins to watch out for rusty stones while collecting mushrooms. But two weeks had passed, and they hadn't found even a decent piece of iron slag.
"Damn it, where has all the iron in this rotten forest gone?" Kurzadh cursed under his breath, pulling out a small piece of iron from his pouch—he had looted this from the Giant Wood tribe previously, and he had polished it until it shone. But this small piece wasn't even enough to repair a single axe.
He rubbed the iron fragment, feeling irritated: If they couldn't find iron ore soon, forget about making iron armor and iron spears; they wouldn't even have enough iron arrows for training the spearmen and archers.
Just as he was starting to feel numb and considering whether to try his luck near the Khyprian road after spring arrived, a rush of footsteps suddenly sounded in the distance.
Kurzadh looked up and saw Dragu scrambling and stumbling toward him. His greenskin was smeared with snow and mud, his sheepskin hat was askew, and he was panting heavily, clearly frantic.
"Boss! boss! Something's happened!" Dragu rushed to the bottom of the steps, leaning on his knees and gasping, unable to speak coherently.
Kurzadh frowned. "Why the panic? Did the sky fall?" He thought the quarry had collapsed or they had encountered a beast, and his heart skipped a beat.
Dragu swallowed hard, forcing down his emotions, and stammered, "N-no... not the quarry... over by the quarry... there's a cave..."
"What about the cave? Is there a wild boar hiding in it?" Kurzadh asked impatiently.
"Not a wild boar!" Dragu suddenly raised his head, his eyes wide. "It's a den! A hobgoblin Boys found a den! Inside... inside there are greenskins ! And... and orcs!"
"What?!" Kurzadh felt like he'd been hit by a heavy hammer. He leaped off the steps and grabbed Dragu's arm. "Say that again! There are orcs?"
greenskins having orcs in their tribe was no small matter.
hobgoblins and goblin were only considered cannon fodder; only orcs could truly hold up the sky. One orc could take on ten hobgoblins, and if there was an boss, the tribe's size could equal three or four Blackrock tribes combined.
The quarry was only three *li* away from the tribe. If the greenskins in that den charged out, the Blackrock Clan would likely be in trouble.
"Th-there really are orcs!" Dragu's arm hurt from the grip, but he didn't dare struggle. "The hobgoblin Boys from the quarry went to pick up stones and saw a hole in the cliff face. He crawled in to take a look... it turned out to be very deep, and he heard 'Waaagh-Waaagh' sounds. He got scared and immediately ran out, saying he saw several greenskins , and one that was much taller than a hobgoblin, incredibly green-skinned—definitely an orc!"
Kurzadh's mind raced.
A greenskin tribe with orcs was definitely not small. They might have hundreds of hobgoblins, dozens of orcs, or perhaps even a Shaman.
If the other side discovered the Blackrock Clan, the palisade might not withstand the orcs' brute force.
But he quickly calmed down.
Right now, the other side didn't know the Blackrock Clan existed. The fact that the hobgoblin Boys managed to run back meant the greenskins in the den hadn't pursued him, and perhaps they hadn't even realized the entrance had been discovered.
This was an opportunity. If they could strike first... "Dragu," Kurzadh released his grip, his voice sinking, "Who else knows about this, besides the hobgoblin Boys at the quarry?"
Dragu paused. "Just... just me and the boy... I was afraid of trouble, so I didn't dare tell anyone else. I ran straight back to find you."
"Good." Kurzadh nodded. "Go back now and keep a close eye on that hobgoblin Boys. Don't let him talk to anyone. Then send two quick-witted goblin to guard near the cave. If any greenskins emerge, whether hobgoblin or orc, capture them alive! If you can't capture them, knock them unconscious! Whatever you do, don't alert the main force inside!"
"Y-yes, boss!" Dragu nodded quickly and turned to run.
"Wait!" Kurzadh called out to him again. "Tell all the greenskins at the quarry to come back. Say that the snow is heavy today, and work is suspended! Don't let them wander near the cliff face!"
"Got it!" Dragu replied, taking off toward the quarry. His short, thick legs moved quickly in the snow, and he soon disappeared.
Kurzadh stood still, staring in the direction of the quarry, his brow furrowed tightly.
The cold wind whipped across the snowy ground, chilling his neck, but his heart felt feverish.
A greenskin tribe with orcs... were they friends or foes? If they were friends, perhaps they could merge into a larger tribe; but the rule among greenskins was always might makes right, and if the other side had orcs, they might not submit to him, the "hobgoblin boss."
If they were foes, it was a matter of life and death—if the other side attacked first, the Blackrock Clan might not hold up.
"Damn it, whatever it is, I need to figure it out first," Kurzadh cursed softly, turning to walk back into the boss's hut.
It was warmer inside than out. The tribe's map was still laid out on the stone slab used for meetings. He spread the map out and pointed at the location of the quarry—it was too close to the tribe, like a ticking time bomb.
He needed to think carefully about countermeasures.
Should he send hobgoblins to sneak into the den to investigate? Or should he reinforce the palisade first and prepare for war? Or... could he find a way to lure the orcs of that tribe out and deal with them one by one?
Kurzadh sat by the stone slab, chewing on a piece of roasted mutton, turning the problem over and over in his mind.
Outside, the sun was gradually sinking westward, stretching the shadows long across the snow. The greenskins from the Lumber Yard and the quarry were returning to the tribe one after another. No one knew that a secret that could change the fate of the Blackrock Clan was hidden in the cave three *li* away.
It started snowing again, the tiny flakes making a faint rustling sound on the roof.
Kurzadh looked at the snow outside, tightening his grip on the axe at his waist—no matter what the greenskins in the den were, he wouldn't let the Blackrock Clan fall.
A greenskin's life must be seized by his own hands!