The formal meeting on the second day went much smoother than Al had imagined.
Although the Khorngors looked terrifying and savage on the outside, they actually possessed a decent level of intelligence both on and off the battlefield. Moreover, without the drums of war inciting them, their thirst for battle wasn't overwhelmingly intense, and they had enough self-control to communicate normally with other races.
The issue of the Chaos aura that Al had always been wary of didn't seem to manifest either. To the humans, Al's legion simply felt like an unfamiliar, powerful foreign army, nothing more.
On the contrary, Al felt a bit uncertain.
Is being born of Chaos no longer a mark that guarantees getting ganged up on by everyone?
Or is it that, after the receding of Chaos, the mortal realm hasn't known suffering for so long that it has rapidly developed into a state of "Minority Lives Matter" and political correctness?
However, according to Al's detailed understanding, it seemed the forces of Order in the world were still vigilant against the corruption of Chaos. But for short-lived humans, this was more of a slogan, a spiritual symbol.
The Elves and Dwarfs, bearing the agonizing memories of the End Times, were much more concerned about it. After all, a hundred and fifty years for short-lived humans was nearly three generations, whereas many Elven and Dawi veterans who fought in the Great War were still walking the earth.
The humans genuinely didn't view Al's tribe as Chaos.
At most, they considered them a somewhat strange, new breed of Beastmen who worshipped unknown deities.
This was quite something... the orthodox Imperial Army being treated like a ragtag regional militia.
Al shrugged, feeling it wasn't a bad thing.
At the very least, the possibility of the entire world uniting to crusade against him was vastly reduced.
The Imperial side, holding the primary command, pacified the Estalians and reached a consensus: regarding alliances and the signing of any treaties, they would merely act as bystanders. They would report the matter to Veling, and whether Veling reported it to Bilbali or Magritta (which was still under siege) was none of their business.
However, a few overly active and incredibly enthusiastic Knights Errant took the initiative to visit the Beastman camp early in the morning. They were almost torn to shreds by the wolf packs who mistook them for intruders. Fortunately, they were stopped by a patrolling Redhorn Leader and brought into the camp, though their mounts were unlucky—one horse was bitten to death by the wolves.
[Previous military structure: Eight men to a squad led by a Redmane Captain; three squads to a company led by a Redhorn Leader; eleven squads, totaling eighty-eight men, to a Warband, commanded by a Khorngor Gorebull.]
Al personally met these reckless, still-shaken knights. Wearing the Grim Love armor, he pulled down his visor and comforted them.
At the same time, he was observing the knights' attitude toward the tribe. If they suddenly drew their swords or their expressions drastically changed, it would undoubtedly mean they had spotted the problem. He could then consider his previous plan of annihilating the human detachment and forcibly relocating the residents of Samana into the Piña Forest.
But fortunately, the knights were pacified. They also rather graciously admitted that it was their fault to begin with, expressing their respects to the Beastlord and extending their anticipation and blessings for the alliance between the tribe and the Kingdom of Estalia against the Greenskins.
After being hosted by Al, it was obvious they were very envious of the weapons and armor of the heavily armored Khorngors. After all, those were forged in the Realm of Chaos, and even in the mortal realm, they could be considered treasured armor and divine weapons. However, although Al didn't know if the Four Mothers had used some method to mask the dense stench of Chaos that should have been immediately noticeable, he decided to play it safe—and he was also genuinely stingy, as a broken set meant one less set.
He didn't act generous by gifting armor or swords to win over the knights' hearts.
He merely gifted them some monster pelts and amber as souvenirs, then sent them back to the town.
Speaking of which, Al still felt the limitations and troubles of being a non-human faction.
The differences in morphology and culture made it extremely difficult for Al to establish a stable rule; he inherently suffered a penalty to his base affinity.
In order not to disturb the people and avoid terrifying the Samanans too much, the Beastmen under his command—aside from the initial few summoned as bodyguards to meet the Samanans—had never set foot inside the town, and that included Al himself.
However, quite a few people from the human side had already sneaked into the town to stroll around or to satisfy their appetites for food and flesh.
After all, though the sparrow is small, it has all its vital organs.
As a town with a population of a few thousand, it was perfectly normal to have prostitutes, taverns, and eateries.
There was even a circular platform used as a dueling ring. If residents had a violent conflict and neither was willing to back down, they could settle it up there. There was also an orphanage taking in children who had lost their parents, or those abandoned by widowers and widows who didn't want to continue raising them.
Usually, the Church of the Goddess was responsible for raising them. Those with outstanding aptitude could join the clergy or be sent to military camps to receive education in discipline and honor from a young age, eventually becoming part of the Estalian legions.
The Shamans led the followers of the All-Father into the village. They were mostly met with an attitude mixing curiosity and wariness.
The Estalians within the human army showed more of the latter emotion.
The first formal meeting between the three parties (with the Samanans barely counting as hosts) thus began.
The Estalians in the army remained relatively quiet, perhaps due to the Imperials' warnings. After all, even if they reached an agreement here to take all the land and treasure, it wouldn't count for anything in Veling, let alone in the current core of Estalia, the great northern city of Bilbali.
Conversely, even if they vehemently opposed it, if the Northern Council stubbornly decided to cooperate with the Beastmen and recognize their ownership of Piña and the Inara Mountains, what could these scattered frontline stragglers do to oppose it?
So they simply adhered to their military status, sending various personnel to participate in the meeting. However, the primary representative of this detached force was still the Imperial commander, led by the Grail Knight.
Al wasn't present at the scene; he was observing the venue through the Shaman's perspective.
The first person he noticed was naturally the Grail Knight.
As one of the leaders of the human legion, she naturally warranted extra attention.
Then, Al frowned deeply.
The young knight he saw yesterday, the one who was exceptionally enthusiastic toward Celestine, was standing silently behind the female knight's right side, standing tall like a guard.
Al stared at him, confirming that this guy's eyes constantly drifted toward Celestine.
His fists hardened.
The corpse of the last guy who wanted to be his stepdad was already rotting into fertilizer in the Piña Forest.
Al thought to himself, his pupils shrinking, suddenly radiating a villainous aura.
This man already has a way to die!
The meeting discussed the usual matters, with a bit more small talk and probing for faction intelligence. Under Al's instructions, the Shaman acting as the tribe's spokesperson treated the alliance very seriously, yielding not an inch on the claim over the Piña Forest.
However, regarding the Inara Mountains, he showed an attitude open to negotiation.
He proposed ideas such as shelving disputes, joint development, and joint construction—words passed down by the Everchosen. This actually slightly improved the impressions of the Estalians present.
The atmosphere between the two sides seemed to gradually thaw and warm up. A minor interlude also occurred during this time:
A large mob of several hundred Greenskins, attracted by who knows what, rushed toward the very remote small town of Samana.
They were spotted by the outriders, and just as the human side began hastily assembling their troops and forming ranks to repel the enemy, five hundred heavily armored Khorngors charged out from their rear flank, cresting the hills and launching an assault on the Greenskins first.
Just like the battle that initially broke out outside Samana, the Warboss was decapitated. Without the massive WAAAAAGH! buff, the Big Uns were completely crushed by the equally-sized Khorngors. Their axes, choppas, and clubs, lacking the "I think therefore it is" buff, couldn't even dent the Khorngors' armor.
Ultimately, they were routed in the field battle by the Khorngors. The remnants fled, only to be chased down and slaughtered to the last man by the wolf packs and Centigors who had been waiting for a long time.
The human side witnessed this beast-on-beast battle from start to finish, the ranks dead silent.
After the Khorngors harvested the battlefield, they conveniently piled up the severed Greenskin heads to make a skull throne. At the very top sat the hideous head of the Warboss, its massive face split down the middle by a huge axe wound. Most of its brains had fallen out, leaving only a bit of skin and flesh holding it together, draped upside down over the apex of the skulls.
Celestine, holding her longsword, sliced off the head of a Greenskin that had lost its direction in fear and ran toward her. She stared at the concluded battlefield, deep in thought.
This group of Beastmen calling themselves a tribe... why do they seem somewhat familiar?
As the female knight looked at the battlefield, Al circled high above the distant dense forest on a Griffon, looking at her.
He wondered in his heart how long it would take for the envoys from Veling to arrive.
That night, to celebrate a victory where the Kingdom and the tribe cooperated to annihilate an enemy force, the Samanans brought out their cellar reserves, and the three parties held a banquet together.
Al specifically sent Beastmen to attend in family units. Compared to sending the Khorngors—whose personalities were basically angry bros shouting "What are you looking at? Let's duel!"—Beastmen with mates, cubs, and even elders might interact better with humans.
Meanwhile, he used his blessings to constantly tap into various perspectives, participating in this unique banquet in an alternative way.
He himself was in his tent, hugging the goat mom and doing this and that.
The Paladin, Claudia, was still wearing chains, but Al rarely restricted her from walking around outside on her own anymore. Toward her, the boy's feelings were still incredibly complex.
Strictly speaking, Claudia was Al's second partner, but her situation was entirely forced. Even though there was the classic trope assist from the Reveler—"you'll die if you don't do it"—Al's spear thrust that night genuinely came from his own desire to possess the Paladin.
Having experienced a sensation several times (three times) stronger than normal, Al had developed a taste for it. It was a level of pleasure he hadn't even felt the first time the goat mom proactively straddled him while the centaur girl assisted from behind.
But then, out of fear of getting addicted, and with his rational brain regaining the high ground, he didn't dare enter the Paladin's athletic body again.
As for Claudia, it seemed that night's experience had pushed her faith to the brink of shattering. Regardless, she spent every day spacing out. Occasionally, she would exchange a few words when she saw the swordswoman and the little nun, then go back to isolating herself.
Days of overthinking and frustration had made Al somewhat irritated, compounding with the sight of that young knight buzzing around Celestine like a horny bee.
Al was angry.
Sitting in the tent, with the goat girl standing on his left and the centaur girl lying on his right.
He summoned the Shaman and said:
"Someone insulted me deeply. I loathe him..."
"What. Is. Your. Plan!"
The Shaman left.
Al exhaled a breath of stale air.
He withdrew his gaze, but couldn't help shifting it to the Paladin, who had already fallen asleep leaning against the edge of the rug.
She had her head lowered, hugging her left knee, burying her face in her left leg. Her right leg stretched out straight on the ground, her robes pinned under her hips, displaying her long, firm thighs right before Al's eyes.
Al looked away, then couldn't help but slowly look back up.
"I... I've fought battles for so long!"
He suddenly found a self-righteous source of strength from his memories.
"Can't I just enjoy myself? Just enjoy it?"
Al walked over to the Paladin. She seemed to be already asleep. After Al crouched down in front of her, he placed his hand on the Paladin's calf.
Claudia's body swayed. She woke from her light sleep, casting a confused gaze at Al. Her eyes trembled, revealing a sorrowful, powerless sadness.
"Uh..."
Then the Paladin pulled her legs back into a W-sit (duck sitting) posture. She slowly lowered her hands from her chest, letting them hang at her sides. She bowed her head, her beautiful blonde hair spilling over her chest and shoulders, hiding her face from view.
So this is...
Al reached out and gently propped up the Paladin's smooth chin, applying slight pressure to slowly tilt her once-heroic but now sorrow-filled pretty face up to look at him.
Then he kissed her.
Claudia's teeth were tightly clenched, but Al quickly grabbed her breasts, prying her mouth open. He thrust his tongue inside, swirling it around for a while before pulling back satisfied, focusing his attention on her chest.
The centaur girl squinted, watching Al and the Paladin's movements with great interest. The goat mom lazily lay on her side on the ground, her face still flushed, watching the boy's back as he leaned over the athletic "big cart."