Equipment Printing School Mage
Page 468
"I'm all alone now," Ocampos said flatly. "I'm not going to ask you for help because I have nothing left."
"At least you still have a subject who is willing to sacrifice for you," Emiya said. "His injuries are no less severe than yours, and he hasn't fully recovered yet."
"I told you," Ocampos said, unyielding and unyielding. "You can ask, and I might answer. But I won't tell you everything just because I'm doing you a favor."
The dwarves were quite dissatisfied with such cold words. Bruenor snorted coldly, "As expected of a bandit from the mountains, you can actually say such words to your savior."
Ocampos didn't even bother to respond, but simply said to Emilia, "Have you thought about your question?"
Facing this orc king who was full of gratitude in words but full of defensiveness and hostility in actions, Emilia was not discouraged.
It would be better to say that if they directly stated their purpose, the orc king would probably be even more furious.
"That's all. However, I hope you will at least be responsible for your words."
"I am the King of Arrows, and my every word weighs more than the spine of this world. If you're still worried..." Ocampos said firmly, "Then let the Church of Tyr release the Realm of Honesty. I can only guarantee that I won't lie."
"That's exactly what I want."
Pasia was quite dissatisfied with Ocampos's attitude and would not be polite to him. He immediately took out the holy emblem and sprinkled the Realm of Honesty in the middle of the reception room.
Emiya then asked the first question: "Was it the Church of the Many Arrows Kingdom that launched the coup and overthrew you?"
"——?!" Ocampos, who had just been trying to maintain his composure, nearly lost it. An unnatural blush crept across his pale skin, and he gritted his teeth, "So, Southerners always ask questions with answers?"
"It's just speculation..." Emiya said calmly. "Second question. Before this coup, did any serious conflict break out within the Church of the Orc God?"
"...The word civil war is too strong." Ocampos unconsciously clenched his fists. "Within the orc kingdom, any two orcs can clash. Conflict within the church is all too common."
Ocampos couldn't help but want to ask that question again: When you ask questions, do you always come with answers?
It seems that in the face of these problems, the only thing Ocampos needs to do is to say: "Yes"!
"That's right." Emilia held up three fingers on her right hand. "So, during civil wars or coups, have there been unusual lightning strikes, excessive snowfall, or even the spread of plague?"
At first, Ocampos wanted to shake his head.
What does a coup have to do with this messy natural disaster?
Ocampos recalled the chaos in the capital a few days ago.
Churches are closed and there's a plague—this doesn't seem like something that would happen in winter.
In the end, he could only say with great difficulty: "...It happened. I went to the church to investigate because I was puzzled by these strange things that shouldn't happen in the winter. However, when I entered the church, I found that the old bishop had already fallen in a pool of blood, and the entire church was filled with countless strange shadows..."
He gave a bitter laugh. "I never expected they would ambush me. I was caught off guard. No matter how hard I fought back, I was ultimately outnumbered. I was paralyzed by the immobilization spell and fell into a coma. And then, here I am."
In other words, the King of Arrows was actually ambushed and beheaded. To this day, the King of Arrows doesn't even know what happened in his kingdom.
But it didn't matter, Emiya already knew everything he wanted.
"That's enough. Your Majesty, Ocampos, with all due respect, if you still want to return to the kingdom left to you by your ancestors and ascend the throne again, you will have to pay more than you imagine."
"I told you I can't afford it," Ocampos said, his voice unusually cautious. "I won't offer as payment any wealth or status I haven't yet earned."
"You've completely misunderstood," Emilia said coldly. "The price I'm talking about is the price of one's heart and even one's faith. Let me ask you a question: Are you a devout believer in the Lord?"
"what do you mean?!"
Gruumsh, the chief god of the orcs.
——At the same time, it must be the center of this vortex.
It can be said that, except for humans, the vast majority of races believe in their own creator and main god.
Orcs believe in an Orc God, and even goblins have their own Goblin God. The connection between these gods and their followers is almost inseparable!
Only a few elves abandon the Seldarine faith for the pantheon of Faerûn, often with severe consequences for their kin. Other races do the same with similar results.
This was also the reason why, despite intending to visit the dwarven kingdom, Emiya hadn't brought along the headmaster of the Halayach School of Magic—the venerable dwarf who worshipped Mystril. In the eyes of most dwarves, he was an outright eccentric, even a traitor; his presence would only worsen the atmosphere.
And now, Emilia knew that she was probably going to ask one or even a group of orcs to do the most unacceptable thing.
"We have obtained a clue," he said. "Some gods are seeking rapid growth in power, and are willing to attack all weak enemies to achieve this. And you seem to have become both a victim and a survivor of this strange event."
Emiya spoke slowly, word by word, "Your Lord's Church may be under erosion. Now, you must make a choice... Do you trust us outsiders, or do you believe that your kingdom will return to normalcy on its own?"
"You want..." Ocampos gasped for breath, "You want me to lead the way to overthrow my own country?"
"Your country?" Emya said coldly. "After a while, it might not even be the orcs' home anymore."
They are about to march under the nose of a god.
Could such an offense anger the gods? To what extent would one provoke the gods to descend incarnate?
And what exactly happened between the Fury Pantheon and the Orc Pantheon...Emia was also very curious.
Is it cooperation or competition?
-----------------
The stench of the swamp, like a sticky shroud, tightly enveloped the hideout of its occupant—a pitch-black tower rising from the filthy mire. Constructed of a strange, light-absorbing stone, the tower resembled a vertical rift into nothingness, refusing any celestial light. Twisted, dead trees stretched toward the spire like desperate arms, above which swirled ominous scavenger birds, emitting intermittent, bone-grinding wails.
The Swamp of the Dead between Neverwinter and Waterdeep is a place where undead creatures run rampant, and the only landmark here is a pitch-black tower that was erected at some unknown time.
The owners here have changed several times, but they all have one thing in common: they are obsessed with a gorgeous black crown and are almost reluctant to take it off their heads.
Neverwinter and Waterdeep had certainly laid siege to this place, but they had been unable to find a way to completely eliminate the undead. Scholars concluded that the only reason the undead were so numerous was because the last fragments of Melkor, the god of death, fell into the swamp at the end of the Time of Troubles.
Unless the fragments of the Grim Reaper are completely eliminated, this trend cannot be reversed, so everyone has no choice but to give up.
And now, this tower has welcomed the most distinguished, special and powerful guest.
A man who seemed more suited to this tower than the owner of this place. He was unusually tall, his entire figure obscured by thick black armor, and from a distance he looked like a dark tower.
No one knew when he appeared in the Swamp of the Dead, but he himself knew exactly why he came.
The uninvited guest opened his mouth and muffledly uttered a name that should have died a hundred years ago: "Melkor."
The Ninety-Six Gods Unite into One (Part 4)
Black Arrow Castle, the capital of the Kingdom of Arrows.
Although the Kingdom of Many Arrows is the most powerful branch of the Orcish tribe, it is still not well-off. Building a complete fortress and gathering the best craftsmen in the entire kingdom are already the limit.
The formidable and imposing fortress is built on the mountainside, its towering and murderous towers overlooking the winter, demonstrating the orcs' determination to never leave their land again. However, within the fortress lies the orcs' true living standards.
Aside from the Orc King's palace and temple, the remaining building materials were used to construct the orcs' war workshops. While the forges here still vaguely resemble those of the civilized south, the civilians' homes are incredibly poor—fur tents still dominate. Naturally, this primitive housing system lacks any urban planning. A vast amount of domestic waste has been unplanned and frozen onto the ground beneath the ramparts, thickening the ground beneath Black Arrow Castle with each passing day. The orcs complain about the increasingly low ceilings in the buildings, but they haven't considered the real reason behind this.
In this cold winter, more orcs even chose to hide back in the depths of the mountains, taking shelter in the warm rock tunnels that extend in all directions.
Therefore, this is also the most essential area of the entire kingdom. Although the Kingdom of Many Arrows is relatively peaceful, it does not mean that it has any neglect of the orc gods. On the contrary, the Stone Sword Church of the Kingdom of Many Arrows is undoubtedly the most important center of faith for the orc god Gruumsh.
However, there is a less widely known knowledge in Faerun: Faith in words and piety limited to wealth are ultimately inferior to real actions.
The successive Lords of the Many Arrows believed that as the most powerful and influential family among the orcs, they would surely be appreciated by Gruumsh. Unfortunately, they were wrong.
Gruumsh is ultimately a god of war, and he is not the same kind of war god as Tempus, the god of war in Faerûn.
War, as Tempus advocates, is an extension of politics. Military affairs are a matter of national importance and should not be taken lightly. They are the product of will, wisdom, and technology. Therefore, the Church of Tempus despises pure plunder and slaughter.
Gruumsh believes that the least to fear in the world is war itself. The orc pantheon cannot tolerate those who are unable to engage in war.
The "powerlessness" here can be multi-dimensional: lack of power to launch a war, lack of wisdom to launch a war - and lack of determination to launch a war.
The first two items of the Many Arrows were far ahead of the Orcs, so they survived until recently. However, the patience of the Orc Gods finally reached its limit in these hundred years.
For hundreds of years, the Kingdom of Many Arrows, the most powerful orc, had not launched a war against any other country. Instead, it focused on maintaining the stability of trade and even expanded into the mountains.
This is something the orc gods absolutely cannot tolerate - you want to survive in the mountains, why not just rob the dwarf kingdom? You want to survive in the city, why not just rob the human and elf kingdoms?
"I have gathered you together today to share with you some sad news."
In the Stone Sword Church, Archbishop Perturabo, the absolute leader of this coup, raised the heavy spear in his hand and spoke in a heavy tone.
Gathered in the church were the most powerful military officers in the Kingdom of Arrows at that moment.
They were now looking at each other, searching for a few orcs who should not be absent at this moment.
The most prestigious people in the Zhongjian family, their immediate superiors, were all absent at this moment.
Officers, not warlords.
After a century of cultivation, the Kingdom of Many Arrows was no longer a herd of wild beasts like other tribes, but rather a composite of multiple tribes. They had long since adapted to a relatively formal political system. For today's young officers, the traditional military customs of the orcs were a thing of three generations ago.
In the absence of a direct military commander, the supreme leader of the faith almost naturally took over command.
Archbishop Perturabo, speaking before the officers, said, "Just yesterday, our King Ocampos was on patrol when he was attacked by the Yankees. He and his entourage disappeared in the snowstorm, and their whereabouts remain unknown."
The officers present could hardly believe their ears. After a brief silence, the clamor of noise instantly ignited the entire church. The orcs, who had been maintaining their solemnity, almost wanted to draw their weapons immediately: "What?! Who did this?! Has the murderer been caught?"
No one questioned the truth of this news—the Archbishop himself was one of the most powerful figures in Black Arrow Hold, and they were in no position to question Gruumsh's representatives.
"We've achieved results," Perturabo shouted to the outside of the church. "Hatusk! Bring the assassin up!"
When they heard the name Hatusk, the officers present frowned almost instinctively.
This name is notorious in Black Arrow Castle.
In the Kingdom of Many Arrows, which increasingly advocates rationality and wisdom, Hatusk relies on his unreasonable bravery to successfully force all the orcs to give up a position for him.
But even so, Ocampos really did not appreciate this butcher. In the end, Hatusk could only be an invincible pioneer in the underground arena without fighting.
——This guy, is he capable of catching an assassin? It would be more convincing if he took the opportunity to accidentally kill the king!
The archbishop noticed the confusion among the officers below, but did not immediately stop them. Instead, he watched Hatusk walk into the church quietly.
This Hatusk was indeed one of the best warriors in Black Arrow Castle, his sturdy physique unmatched even among orcs. At this moment, this sturdy orc was holding an elf upside down as if he were holding a weapon.
—A drow.
The drow was already on the verge of death, hanging by a thread. Hatusk seemed oblivious to this, slamming the severely wounded and dying elf to the ground. This heavy blow instantly deprived the drow of its last life.
Hatusk obviously didn't care about this at all. He stepped heavily on the dead elf's neck, and the elf's slender neck instantly became a bloody mess. Then, he pinched the elf's head and twisted it hard, forcibly dragging the elf's head off in the gushing blood.
At this moment, the Archbishop carefully observed the reactions of the officers present. Some showed shock, some were dissatisfied, and some were thoughtful.
Many more orcs almost instinctively expressed their joy at the death of the elves.
The Archbishop carefully noted down the officers' various actions, then turned to Hatusk and said, "You should have told me before you killed this traitor."
Hatusk grinned and said, "Next time for sure."
Perturabo took the head, deformed by pain and despair, and cried out, "He dared to die before Gruumsh, yet even death could not save him from the Lord's presence! Wake up, sinner!"
Gruumsh's bishop called upon the power of the gods, and the drow's head, already riddled with holes, twitched slightly. He opened his lips and muttered unconsciously, "...what... happened..."
Perturabo shouted in the Underworld language: "Who sent you here?!"
"I... obey my Lord... Eilistraee..."
The orcs looked at each other in bewilderment. Given their average orcish culture, knowing Common and Dwarven was already impressive. Underlanguage? It was a relatively uncommon language in human settlements.
They don't even know who Eilistraee is!
"Eilistraee... what a wickedly ambitious elven name!" Perturabo continued, "Did you orchestrate the assassination? Where is your lair?!"
"Nonsense...we...don't..."
Perturabo sneered, anger building up on his face. He said to the orcs, who hadn't understood the conversation at all, "This despicable elf has admitted it! They are assassins sent by the Silvermoon Alliance! After being attacked and severely damaged, that weak alliance didn't think of protecting itself, but instead sent troops to assassinate our beloved king!
"Allies, peace, they're all lies!"
Perturabo took a deep breath, then suddenly reached out and tore open his fur cloak, revealing his muscular chest. "Now, who wouldn't want to avenge His Majesty?!"
Hatusk was the first to raise his weapon without hesitation, shouting, "Kill all the Yankees! Loot all the Yankees!"
Soon, he received a response. Even the orcs who were the slowest to react joined in the battle cry when he called for the third time.
And all of these orcs are Ocampos's confidants.
Perturabo sighed. "Attack... but not now. First, we must mobilize all our forces to search the snowy plains for His Majesty's possible whereabouts. I anticipate establishing twenty teams, deploying at least several thousand men. We'll depart tonight. Now, everyone, prepare!"
After only a brief silence, the orc officers tried to leave the church in an orderly manner, but in the process, Hatusk rudely bumped into the queue.
Then, this last bit of order completely collapsed, and the officers scattered to all corners of the castle.
After the last orc officer left, a dark figure slowly appeared behind the shaman and spoke in the Underworld language, "Mr. Perturabo, I must admire your skills. Even in the Underdark, you can probably find a place."
Perturabo said bluntly, "I won't waste my breath. I've already contacted the Frost Giant tribe. Where's the white dragon you captured?"
"The gray dwarf slave army has arrived on the surface, and the white dragon will arrive tomorrow at the latest," said the shadow. "But I must say—the storms in the north are much worse than we imagined. We are not used to it."
"Rest assured," Perturabo said, "the Lord has spoken: storms, frost, and snow will no longer be our enemies."
"That's best," the shadow replied. "With everyone's attention distracted, this is a golden opportunity to attack. We must not let it go to waste."
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