A grand family recognition assembly!
A reunion of mother and son!
Weeping tears of joy!
Men fall silent, women shed tears!
Al hugged the goat mom, burying his face in her fluffy, long white hair. There was a faint, warm body scent mixed with the smell of grass, somewhat similar to the scent of her breasts, but not quite as strong.
As for the centaur girl, when aroused, her body would emit a faint scent of sweat and an indescribable aroma, which heavily stimulated their mutual lust.
Motherfucker, this is so annoying!
Al knew that to walk the path of allying with humans against the Greenskins, dealing with humans was inevitable, but he had constantly overlooked one detail: his biological mother was in the opposing camp.
On the very first day Al left the forest to begin his plan, he had to run into her.
Moreover, this matter would involve even more complications: the Imperial Expeditionary Force had a blood feud with the former Joy-Singers tribe, and their commander—Al's "uncle" in a sense—was a man dead set on wiping away the stain of this beast-spawn from his cousin.
If the Imperials discovered the truth about Al's tribe and strongly persuaded the Estalians to oppose them, the already fragile future alliance would undoubtedly shatter from such a rift. Was Al supposed to hide his name and manipulate things from behind the scenes?
But it was impossible for the centaur girl to stay off the battlefield; this was something incredibly hard to conceal.
The boy was conflicted, a knot of frustration swirling in his chest. He felt like he had hit a wall right out of the gate, making him thoroughly agitated and exhausted.
Suddenly, a burst of rage ignited in Al's lungs, burning away the chaotic tangle of thoughts completely.
Al's mind suddenly cleared:
At the time of his birth, Al was nothing but a mere cub. When the Beastlord was about to defile his biological mother, Celestine, under the Bloodmother's encouragement, he had the courage to throw a punch and subsequently slay Zhakun.
Later, when breaking out of the valley and plunging into the great Piña Forest, the tribe numbered only a few hundred.
Now, expanding beyond Piña, the fiercely courageous Khorngor Legion—not counting the scions who took forces to branch out, and those left to guard the base—amounted to four thousand beasts under Al's direct command.
Over a year of massive development, the tribe had achieved unimaginable progress and results.
"I've grown. I've become stronger. Am I actually afraid of things escalating with the enemy now?"
Al muttered, speaking to himself:
"You're not really here to be a benevolent lord. You are a Chaos spawn, born in a Beastman tribe; you're not a scion of the Dragon Emperor or Sigmar, you can't be a righteous prince!"
"You are the Chaos Everchosen! You are meant to command the beasts of the deep woods, conquer the Estalians, and establish a nation of the Everchosen!" Al's pupils shrank. He let go of the goat mom, dismounted, and with the help of the two goat girls, put the Grim Love armor back on.
"You have no right to compete with them to be a benevolent and righteous holy king!"
Al's inner voice continuously spoke in his ears. He frowned and turned away.
"I must be a ruthless overlord, a tyrant, an emperor of terror!"
"The shared son of the Four Gods! The Everchosen... Submit and prosper, or oppose and perish!"
"Bring me my weapon!"
The boy's voice boomed. The goat girls looked at each other in confusion.
Al simply walked over to the centaur girl himself, drew a scimitar, gripped the blade in his palm, frowned, and gently pulled.
Crimson, blessing-infused Everchosen blood dripped continuously from Al's palm. He bit his lip, ignoring the goat mom who stepped forward in distress to stop the bleeding, and muttered to himself:
"Today my mind was in turmoil, hesitating to move forward. I cut my own palm as a warning; if I ever show such indecisiveness in the face of a great battle again—someone else can just take my head!"
"Bring another thousand Khorngors. Follow me to meet these Imperials and see what the military might of humanity looks like!"
Al clenched his left hand into a fist, remounted, his face full of resolve.
The centaur girl had grown accustomed to the foreign customs and phrases her adopted son would occasionally spout. Over time, through constant exposure, she could roughly understand Al's meaning.
And the orders to the army were issued through the blessing of the All-Knowing One.
Within the Crimson Vanguard Legion, the Khorngor Gorebulls leading the eighty-eight Beastman warbands acted as secondary commanders and generals. Above them in the chain of command was the Everchosen's headquarters—a general staff composed of Sagegors and Beastmen with tactical talent, taking orders directly from and serving only Al and Alina.
All warband Gorebull commanders first obeyed orders issued by Al, and in the absence of his commands, they accepted orders from the general staff. If there were no additional instructions, they would act according to the initially set campaign objectives—which mostly meant annihilating the enemies in front of them.
Celestine reined in her horse on the slope. Samana in the distance was gradually plunging into darkness, with only scattered fires lighting up in the dusk.
In the Old World, places like Altdorf and Marienburg in the Empire, or Manaan's dry dock (formerly Bordeleaux) and Brittany (formerly Couronne) in the Republic of Bretonnia, had already started popularizing a type of decoration called streetlamps, which could illuminate most of the city streets and alleys even at night.
But in Estalia, where technological development was slow and the foundation of the nation relied mainly on trade and colonization, such novelties were rarely seen, let alone in an inland town near the forest like Samana.
"That is Samana. Nothing special, just a small place."
An Estalian knight introduced it to Celestine. Although the female knight wasn't the designated commander of this unit, the appointed leader—due to Julius's influence—deeply respected Celestine's opinions. During their recent experiences, the female knight had also won over many people with her performance.
Whenever a battle was unavoidable, she always charged bravely at the forefront. After battles, treating the wounded, praying for the dead, showing compassion for the suffering people of a foreign land... all of this was seen and remembered by everyone, earning her the praise of being the Saintess of the North (the Empire).
Many Estalian nobles in this expeditionary force had already fallen for the female knight, eagerly trying to find out her preferences and past to express their affection. However, most inquiries were met with deep silence, with only occasional fragmented words about a forest.
The female knight cradled her helmet, the evening breeze blowing her blonde hair to one side. Facing the direction of the sunset, under the dusk, it rippled like a dim, mysterious golden wave.
Celestine hung her helmet on the saddle, reached back with both hands, tied her hair into a single ponytail, and coiled it behind her.
The young man who had earnestly pleaded for the female knight's help earlier looked up, admiring the beautiful golden silhouette on the hill.
"It's too quiet."
The wind scattered the knight's words. The young man blinked, stepped onto the slope slightly further away from the female knight, imitated her posture looking at the town, and asked:
"What?"
"Something's not right. Go find the two men we left behind."
"Uh... r-right, right away!" The young man was somewhat intoxicated by the moment, feeling as if he were standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his idol, gazing into the distance. It took him a moment to snap out of it, nodding repeatedly, and hurrying off somewhat regretfully to give orders to the outriders.
Celestine stared into the distance. It seemed a cluster of firelights had gathered, flickering as they moved out of the town in their direction.
Meanwhile, on the other side, at the edge of the forest, Al sat on the centaur girl's back, also gazing toward the other side of the town.