CHAPTER 933: LURING THEM IN

Titanion Realm, on the border between the human kingdom and the former dwarven Tribe.

Grand Duke William and Prince Theodore met, flanked by two other nobles of earldom rank, both of whom were William’s trusted men.

"Your Grace," Prince Theodore said with a perfect bow. "I am here at the King’s command, to serve the realm and help purge this traitor."

William had no complaints about Prince Theodore. In terms of strength and character, the prince was flawless. He was politically astute but operated with his own firm principles. As heir to the kingdom, he was beyond reproach.

"Your Highness," Grand Duke William said, gesturing first to himself, then to the two earls behind him, and finally to the knights standing guard in the distance. "We all need you here. And you need the glory this campaign will bring."

Though William was a Grand Duke of the kingdom, there was always competition between the duchies, and between the duchies and the royal family. With his house’s full strength committed to this campaign, he needed a guarantee from the kingdom—a guarantee that no one would raid his lands while his back was turned.

Prince Theodore was that guarantee.

This wasn’t a matter of pettiness on William’s part; it was a necessary act to maintain the kingdom’s fragile balance of power. Without it, the human kingdom would inevitably fall into internal conflict, and perhaps even collapse.

"It is my sworn duty to serve the kingdom, Your Grace," the prince replied, his face showing not a hint of resentment.

The response left William and the two earls deeply satisfied. Only a prince with such magnanimity could earn their trust and support when he one day ascended the throne.

"Let us head to the command tent," William said. "We have maps of the entire region north of the dwarven Tribe. We can plan where to capture that traitor, Torin."

"Of course."

To the north, on the Azurevein Plains.

The plains were the territory of the Blacksteel gnomes, and a countless number of tents, large and small, now dotted the vast grasslands. In the very center stood the largest tent of all.

Inside, Torin sat at the head of a long table. Flanking him were Brokk, King of the Dark Dwarves; Gotte-Steel, King of the gnomes; Orwar, a werewolf lord; and the satyr lord, Jin.

In truth, most of the lords of the far north had been tempted by Torin’s call to arms.

But when they learned their enemy was the human kingdom, many had second thoughts and retreated.

The primary reason was not just the kingdom’s long-standing reputation for power, but also the fact that in all of Torin’s forces, there was no publicly acknowledged arch lord to act as their champion.

Many lords simply lacked the confidence to ignite another Great War between North and South.

Unless Ogu, the clown hiding in Torin’s shadow, chose to reveal himself, the smarter lords would not be staking their lives on this venture.

"Lord Commander," Gotte-Steel began, "the armies of the human kingdom have entered the old dwarven Tribe’s territory. Shall we go and wipe them out now?"

Lord Commander was, of course, Torin’s new title at the head of the Avenger armies. The one speaking, Gotte-Steel, was a timid, sycophantic gnome lord.

"We wait," Torin said, the picture of confidence. "Let them push deeper into the territory. Let them get to a point where reinforcements will take too long to arrive. That will be our moment to devour this army and deal a heavy blow to the human kingdom."

He had every reason to be confident. He was backed by a Big boss from the Survivor’s Platform, who had promised to send a will projection to aid him in the critical moment.

If the human kingdom’s Saint were to descend, his patron might even consider sending a full-fledged avatar. With an arch lord as his backer, Torin had little to fear from the kingdom’s expedition.

His real concern was that the Avenger armies were not yet strong enough to steamroll the human kingdom entirely.

"My lords," Torin announced, his voice echoing in the tent. "The lands we currently hold are not enough. They are not rich enough. To the south, in the human kingdom, there are more fertile fields, more vast forests and mountains. If we defeat them, we can claim those lands, piece by piece. Then, your tribes, your people, will have the resources they need to flourish. Opportunity is right before us!"

This was a pep talk aimed at the werewolf lord Orwar and the satyr Jin. They were the newest additions to his coalition, and Torin needed to shore up their confidence. As for the Dark Dwarf Brokk and the gnome Gotte-Steel, their races had already been brought to heel with Ogu’s help; their loyalty was assured.

"Lord Commander," the werewolf Orwar spoke up, "I believe we still lack sufficient air units. The kingdom’s griffin armies are not to be taken lightly."

Orwar had fought in the last North-South war and had been lucky to survive. He knew better than anyone that the forces of the human kingdom were formidable, especially in a defensive battle, where their well-equipped soldiers were incredibly difficult to kill.

However, he also knew the kingdom had been severely weakened by that last conflict. There was a real chance they could lose again.

Orwar’s confidence stemmed from something else: in Torin’s camp, he had sensed the unmistakable aura of an arch lord.

It was a presence he had felt once before, long ago, during the last war—the combined might of the human Saint and the white dragon Frostsire.

He knew Torin had a powerful champion in his corner. It was the entire reason he and the satyr Jin had joined the Avenger armies.

"Rest assured, Lord Orwar," Torin said smoothly. "I have my own ways of dealing with those griffin riders. Our task is to crush the kingdom’s ground forces in a decisive battle. We will shatter them, boost the morale of our Avenger armies, and inspire more of the northern tribes to join our cause."

Torin and his new army needed a great victory to prove his capability. Only then could he truly rally the northern tribes and lead them in a war of his own making. Whenever he thought of such a grand undertaking, his blood sang with excitement and ambition.

"The human kingdom’s army is not large this time," the satyr lord Jin hissed, his small eyes narrowed. His rectangular pupils, set beneath a pair of curved goat horns, gave him a look of pure malevolence. "Only four Legendary-level champions. Lord Commander, we should plan this carefully, deal them a blow from which they won’t recover. It will lay the foundation for our future invasion of their territory."

Faint black-gold markings on his forehead betrayed a trace of Demonic blood.

"Lord Jin speaks wisely," Torin said with a smile. "And that is precisely why I have summoned you all to the command tent."

Torin unrolled a strange sheet of parchment. On it was not just a map of the terrain, but also the live movements of the human kingdom’s army, advancing like ants across the parchment.

Seeing this magical map, the lords all rose and gathered around it, leaning in to watch the army’s progress as they began to murmur their various strategies to Torin.