The Everchosen!
Making a grand entrance!
Right at this moment, the sound of horse hooves echoed from the night on the other side. The silhouettes of a squad of knights also crested the hill over there, with more cavalry following behind, halting at the bottom of the slope.
The human side was entirely cavalry, with a few horses kept in the back acting as packhorses carrying the bodies of the fallen.
The terrain at this moment perfectly resembled a basin, with bulging hills on both sides blocking the line of sight. It was even harder to see the situation behind them in the dark. There was only a small path extending from Samana, where the mayor and the others held torches, standing dumbstruck at the edge of this potentially hostile battlefield.
Clearly, the knight army was also bewildered and uncertain about this unfamiliar legion that suddenly appeared before them in such an unexpected manner—the "allies" the Samanans spoke of. They halted at the bottom of the hill, forming a standoff with the Beastmen legion from afar.
The human side was all cavalry. At first glance, their numbers looked shadowy and numerous, but there actually weren't that many.
But although Al had the resolve to drive the beast hordes and swallow the Southern Realms, Chairman Mao had said: despise the enemy strategically, but respect them tactically.
Therefore, Al wanted to take every battle as seriously as possible. When he had the upper hand, he would use the overwhelming force of a lion hunting a rabbit to annihilate the enemy, crush their morale, and minimize losses.
Bringing the legion was both to establish his authority and to show goodwill—"I brought an army to negotiate, not to fight, isn't that friendly enough?"
But at the same time, he also ordered the wolf packs and Centigors—the only two mobile forces currently in the tribe's military system—to use the cover of the night and the rolling hills to execute a large flanking maneuver on the right wing, standing by in the rear. If a battle broke out, this surprise force could turn into a thunderbolt striking the enemy's back at the critical moment.
A small portion was hidden behind the main legion to act as a mobile reserve.
"If a battle breaks out, we absolutely must not let a single person escape, including the town of Samana... We can't slaughter them, so we will forcibly relocate all the residents into the forest and disperse them among the various tribes," Al planned in his mind.
The wolf packs of the All-Father gradually underwent a transformation after worshipping the Mad Mother of Rage. They became faster, stronger, more irritable, and more warlike. The most outstanding among them had fur as red as fire and served as alphas.
Their stamina and burst speed had greatly improved. If clad in heavy armor, they could be used as monstrous infantry, though their impact force still fell slightly short compared to Trolls and heavily armored Khorngors.
However, their ability to pursue fleeing enemies and counter cavalry was massively enhanced. Al had specifically tested this, having ordinary Beastmen ride horses while fleeing with wooden spears, guns, and swords. A lone wolf in pursuit could easily cripple the horse or drag the rider right off its back.
Estalian cavalry always carried short pistols as mid-range weapons. This was the first time the wolf packs faced a structured, organized enemy. Exactly how effective they would be in actual combat still needed to be evaluated with blood and sweat.
A detachment stepped out from the human army and headed toward the Samanans. Al tilted his head and waved his hand. A few Beastmen who worshipped the All-Father also walked in that direction.
The two stranger armies, wary and on guard against each other, thus met in a true sense for the first time.
Perhaps this also reflected the attitude of the inhabitants of this land toward the completely foreign "neighbors" stepping out of the forest.
"Cede the entire Piña Forest, Pagena, and the mountains west of the Montra Fortresses (the two fortresses in the north, central, and south of the Inara Mountains)?"
"By the Goddess! How dare you arrogant beasts make such an insolent demand to civilization!"
Before the leading Imperial officer could stop him, an angry Estalian noble fired off his objections like a Gatling gun.
The followers of the All-Father, relatively short within the tribe but already quite burly by human standards, listened to the noble's accusations without much emotion. After all, they were just relaying the Everchosen's will. It didn't matter if the other party agreed or not; the tribe's vanguard would just crush them anyway.
They believed this absolutely.
Although the leading Shaman looked like a forest stranger or woodland monster out of some Earth fairy tale, his intellect was not inferior to the wise among mortals. It was only due to their faith and race that most of them adhered to the deep woods and avoided worldly disputes.
The Shaman pounded his staff on the ground, creating a massive tremor that panicked the mounts beneath the knights, nearly throwing them off their saddles.
"Listen here, humans. My Lord is not negotiating with you; you do not have the qualifications!"
"Furthermore, Piña has always been the domain of Beastmen; your footprints are confined to the fringes. In Inara, you are doing nothing more than searching for ore veins and digging mineshafts."
"My Lord has led his army to aid you in your time of peril. All you need to do is recognize the tribe's unquestionable... sovereignty over the forest? Yes, sovereignty!"
"And hand over the mountains that are of no use to you—aside from mining and the clerics building monasteries and hermitages. You can still access the mines there, and the tribe welcomes and is willing to protect those ascetics establishing their holy grounds."
"The tribe is also willing to form an unbreakable brotherhood alliance with the Estalians, much like the Dwarfs and Sigmar, to jointly combat threats from the outside world."
The Shaman paused. He took down a thick, hard, massive horn from his back—taken from some unknown creature—handed his staff to another Beastman, and held the giant horn with both hands toward the knights. Following Al's instructions, he infused emotion into the script specifically prepared by the Everchosen:
"This object is the remains left behind when the ancestor of our tribe slew the ancient behemoth, the 'Abomination' Gormor, deep in the forest. It is the 'Holy Relic' our tribe has venerated since time immemorial."
"If the tribe and humanity form an alliance, we will give this 'Holy Relic' to humanity as a token of our mutual pact."
Several Imperial knights couldn't help but repeatedly eye this relic, which was clearly taken from some massive behemoth. Some even unconsciously thumped their chests with one hand, reciting the name of the God-Emperor Sigmar.
This kind of epic tale—where two unknown races meet (perhaps) amiably and forge an unbreakable alliance amidst blood, fire, and a common threat—perfectly hit the G-spot of these knights, who mostly came from minor nobility or the landed gentry class.
Back when Sigmar was still a mortal, this was exactly how he met the High King of the Dwarfs, cementing the friendship between humanity and the Realm of the Mountains.
On the contrary, the Estalians were not numbed by this grand epic narrative, perhaps because it was their land the tribe was demanding.
Under the officer's control, the Estalians in the group didn't cause a bigger scene, but they were clearly holding back their anger.
However, ultimately, this matter wasn't something this flanking unit—composed mostly of a guest army—could decide. Subsequently, the Shaman proposed to the humans that the legion would proactively retreat, and both sides would camp separately, sending delegations to meet inside the city of Samana.
When the news was relayed back to the army, Celestine still harbored doubts, but the legion was exhausted from the march, and the night was unsuited for further advancement. The commander arranged to divide the forces.
Multiple messengers were dispatched to carry the news back to Veling, while the main body camped outside the town. The people of Samana enthusiastically delivered all sorts of supplies to their own army.
Throughout the entire process, Al never showed his face. The humans could only see a silhouette in the night, seemingly riding a horse, gazing at them from afar before leading the army to retreat to a campsite north of the town. They camped north and south, separated by the small town of Samana.
Celestine seemed to sense something. She looked back, only feeling an inexplicably bizarre sensation welling up in her heart.
Al remained silent. His mind was focused on that figure buzzing around the female knight like a bee or a butterfly, that young minor noble trying every trick in the book to please and court her. His eyes narrowed, and the hand gripping the centaur girl's armor tightened.
After the two sides separated, the Everchosen summoned two Shamans of the All-Father. He sat spread-eagle in his tent, resting his chin on one hand, his gaze profound.
Mini-Theater:
"Someone was disrespectful to me earlier. I loathe him deeply. Please eliminate this threat for me."
The Shamans looked at each other and nodded to the Everchosen.
"What is your plan?" Al asked.
"Invite him to drink, and let him drink to his death!"
The Shaman of the All-Father on the left dug around his body and pulled out a completely inconspicuous, pitch-black centipede.
"This bug can hide in wine, slide down his throat, and bore through his stomach, paralyzing him without him realizing it, until he drinks himself to death!"
Al was overjoyed, saying: "You have eliminated a great threat for me! Please accept my bow!"
The Shaman said he wouldn't dare, and took his leave.
At dawn, the two armies drank together, hosts and guests thoroughly enjoying themselves.
The Everchosen sat in his tent, also drinking, occasionally casting his gaze toward the Grail Knight from afar.
The centaur girl was furious, grabbing her halberd, wanting to challenge the Grail Knight to a duel; the Everchosen panicked, stroking her, and stroking her again, to calm her down.
The Grail Knight did not like to drink. She sat alone at the banquet. The man tried to invite her but failed, so he went to drink with the crowd.
After downing three liters, his face turned blood-red, and he collapsed to the ground. The crowd thought it was a joke and cheered him on. The man laughed loudly, saying: "Even the many noble ladies of Bilbali cannot compare to the Grail Knight!"
He fell face first and did not get up. When the crowd checked on him again, he was already dead.