Chương 262: 262：A Commander's Wrath

Cullen threw his head back and laughed aloud. His perception of reality had been wildly skewed by his own severe megalomania. No one could have possibly imagined that deep within the perilous, monster-infested Misty Swamp, the geothermal blast furnaces of Greywater Village were churning out precious Black Steel armor around the clock!

"That bastard Soren only has seventy heavy infantry to his name, yet he dares to bluff and intimidate people like he's some god of war! Look at me!" Cullen abruptly stood up, slapping his chest fiercely.

"I have a thousand sets of Mithril-alloyed Heavy Plate! Heavy Repeating Crossbows! My arsenal is ten times—no, a hundred times better than that warlord Soren's pathetic little outfit!"

"So, take your charity 'Independent Auxiliary Legion' and shove it!" Cullen finally bared his true fangs. His expression twisted into a vicious snarl as he demanded a far steeper price:"I want the official banner of the Sunset Legion! I want the Blood Province to allocate an annual military stipend of twenty thousand gold coins to my forces!"

"And the most crucial point: Once Greywater Village falls, that entire territory and its assets must be handed over to my absolute jurisdiction!" Such shameless, brazen demands fully exposed his vile nature. Not only was he betraying humanity and his former benefactors, but he was actually delusional enough to try and extort massive profits from top-tier generals of the opposing faction! Faced with such outrageous demands, the Orc Envoy clenched his fists tightly beneath his cloak.

But he knew this was not the time to erupt.

"Your demands... are quite ambitious." The Envoy stood up and offered a deep bow, the shadows of his hood completely concealing the mocking sneer on his face.

"I shall relay your words, exactly as spoken, to His Excellency the Governor. You will have your reply within three days." With that, under the escort of a squad of trusted guards, the Envoy swiftly departed the Sunset Hills via a secret tunnel at the rear of the camp. As the heavy tent flap fell back into place, the biting cold wind was once again sealed outside. The rampant arrogance that had plastered Cullen's face only seconds ago vanished in an instant.

He slumped heavily into his chair and grabbed a goblet of red wine, downing a massive gulp. Despite the heat of the tent, his hands were trembling slightly.

"My Lord..." Deputy Commander Gass leaned in, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

"Did we ask for too much? What if we anger the Orcs...?"

"What the hell do you know?!" Cullen snapped his head around. His tone was vicious, yet it entirely failed to mask the paralyzing panic of a man who had just committed high treason.

"Negotiation is all about demanding a sky-high price! If we don't bare our teeth and display our worth, the moment we become an auxiliary force, they'll just toss us to the front lines as disposable meat shields!" Despite his aggressive justification, the oppressive, empty silence of the waiting period began to violently torture both men's minds. Selling out humanity, conspiring with the enemy, betraying the nation—this was the absolute highest form of treason! It was a crime punishable by a thousand cuts!

They believed their setup in the Sunset Hills was flawless. They were surrounded by hand-picked cronies, and the rank-and-file soldiers were completely oblivious, simply following orders to garrison. But Cullen understood Cedric all too well! His old commander was fiercely, unflinchingly loyal to the human defensive line. While Cedric could sometimes be stubbornly inflexible, he possessed a terrifyingly sharp intuition for war!

"Gass." Cullen abruptly slammed his wine goblet down. His expression was a frantic mix of malice and panic as he began to pace anxiously around the tent.

"No... we cannot just sit here and wait! Before the Orcs deliver their reply, we absolutely cannot let command catch wind of this!"

"Pass down my orders! Under the guise of 'winter readiness drills,' instantly confiscate the military command tags of every squad leader below us! Padlock every single supply wagon containing rations and fodder, and hand the keys directly over to my personal guard!" Cullen gritted his teeth, his face twisting into the ruthless mask of a cornered beast ready to fight to the death.

"Whether that old bastard Cedric has caught on or not..."

"Before the Ironpeak Duchy sends investigators to probe us... we must be ready to mutiny at a moment's notice!" Outside, the ice and snow seemed to freeze heaven and earth themselves. Suddenly, the rapid, thunderous thud of galloping hooves brutally shattered the quiet of the Sunset Hills. Twenty heavily armored cavalrymen, completely clad in iron plate, rode in a tight, aggressive formation through the blinding blizzard.

Escorting Cedric, the Heavy Infantry Commander of the Ironpeak Duchy, they violently smashed through the perimeter of the heavy battalion's encampment. The moment Cedric's boots hit the camp soil, his eyes—forged in the fires of countless battles—sharply swept across the layout of the defenses. Instantly, his heart plummeted into an icy abyss. The atmosphere in the military camp was terrifyingly bizarre.

The Heavy Repeating Crossbows mounted on the watchtowers, which should have been locked facing north toward the Broken Blade Mountains to defend against the Orcs... were absurdly pivoted. Their cold, steel-tipped bolts were aimed dead south—pointing directly at the human borderlines! You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. The rank-and-file soldiers, who should have been conducting dispersed perimeter patrols, had been entirely stripped of their weapons.

They were herded together in massive groups and strictly ordered to remain inside their tents. Every single soldier manning a critical chokepoint or intersection was one of Cullen's newly promoted, hand-picked cronies. The most damning, heart-stopping reality sat dead center in the camp: the supply wagons. The draft horses were already hitched, and the waterproof tarps were tied down tight. This was absolutely not the posture of a garrison resting and refitting.

This was an army packed up and ready to march out at a second's notice to welcome a new master.

"Commander?! You... what are you doing here so suddenly?" Several junior crony officers huddled around a fire pit leaped out of their skin at the sudden appearance of Cedric. In their sheer panic, a wineskin slipped from their hands, plunging into the flames and sending up a foul, burning stench. Cedric didn't spare a single glance for the panicked junior officers. He vaulted off his horse, his heavy boots sinking into the muddy snow. His face was as dark as a thundercloud.

Taking the lead, with his twenty snow-caked personal guards falling in closely behind him, Cedric marched with long, furious strides directly toward the central command tent. BANG! Cedric raised a heavy, armored boot and violently kicked the wind-blocking tent flap open! The freezing, biting gale instantly howled into the decadently warm tent, causing the candlelight on the table to flicker wildly. Inside, Cullen and Deputy Gass were holding their silver goblets, lost in delusions of their future grandeur.

The sudden, explosive noise sent a violent jolt through both men, causing the dark crimson wine to spill all over the pristine snow leopard rug. For a split second, the look on Cullen's face was incredibly complex. His eyes bulged, and his face drained of all color in sheer, overwhelming terror. Did the Royal Capital's intelligence agency find out?! Has the main army arrived to suppress the rebellion?!

However, as Cullen's panic-stricken gaze shot past Cedric's massive shoulders and stared out into the snowy expanse of the camp... his violently hammering heart began to slow. In his line of sight, there were only twenty heavily armored cavalry guards. There was absolutely no massive suppression army following behind them. Cullen and Gass exchanged a rapid, covert glance.

Once he confirmed the enemy's utter lack of manpower, the terror in Cullen's eyes vanished, instantly replaced by a cold, sinister, and murderous glint. Old man, you dare run into my territory alone just to die? Do you really think this is still the camp where a single word from you could force me to stand at attention in the snow for an entire day?!

"Cullen!" Cedric's roar was saturated with volcanic fury, the sheer volume shaking the accumulated snow off the roof of the tent. His eyes wide with wrath, Cedric pointed a gauntleted finger directly outside, issuing a blunt, merciless reprimand:"Heavy repeating crossbows turned south! Supply wagons packed and hitched! Soldiers stripped of their arms!"

"You blind, arrogant fool! Who the hell do you think you're hiding this from?! Are you betraying the human faction?! Are you planning to hand over a thousand of our brothers and the Duchy's finest arsenal to a pack of barbaric, flesh-eating Orc animals?!" Faced with this blistering interrogation, Cullen didn't immediately rip off his mask. He knew perfectly well the immense prestige Cedric held within the army. Forcing a bloody confrontation right now would result in unnecessary losses.

So, Cullen deliberately plastered a look of profound, agonizing grievance across his face. He took quick steps forward, even reaching out as if to grab Cedric's frost-covered armguard.

"Commander! How can you listen to the slander of outsiders?! How can you wrong me like this!" Cullen's eyes grew red, his voice choking with feigned emotion as he began to aggressively play the loyalty card:"Have you forgotten?! The Defense of the Black Mud Depressions in the Year 442 of the Dark Calendar! I was just a regular heavy infantryman back then!"

"We were surrounded by Orcs for three days and three nights! It was me! It was I, Cullen, who threw my body in front of you to block a poison-laced bone arrow!" Cullen violently ripped open his luxurious silk robe, exposing a gruesome, jagged old scar across his chest.

"For ten years, I have followed you into every hellish battlefield! I lost my toes to frostbite! I ate moldy, rotting meat to survive! How much blood have I spilled for the Ironpeak Duchy?! How many merits have I earned?!"

"Look at these scars covering my body! How could I ever betray humanity?! This is nothing more than a routine, precautionary defensive rotation!" Cullen spoke through perfectly timed tears. Every single word was a calculated strike, weaponizing their shared history of life-and-death camaraderie.

He was desperately attempting to use emotional blackmail to force his notoriously sentimental old commander to soften his heart, trying to sweep this glaringly obvious mutiny under the rug as a mere "internal camp misunderstanding." However, Cedric did not show the slightest hint of the wavering hesitation Cullen had anticipated. Cedric's will remained as hard as cold iron.

Even though his heart was currently bleeding with absolute, agonizing sorrow, he would never, ever use the safety of the entire human defensive line to pay the debt of past camaraderie.