Chapter Five: The Orc Empire

Among the beastmen, there are many branches: the goblins, known for their prolific breeding; the minotaurs and tigerfolk, renowned for their formidable strength yet few in number. The backbone of beastman society, however, is the mighty beastmen—robust, towering over two meters tall, and with a reproductive rate comparable to humans. Though a pair of mighty beastmen might not match a minotaur in single combat, on the vast new continent, their tribes are the most numerous and powerful by far.

Thus, the chief of the largest tribe among the mighty beastmen, by overwhelming strength, naturally subdued all other beastman clans. Inspired by humanity, he established the so-called Beastman Empire. Unfortunately, beastman brains—prone to lapses—proved ill-suited for governance. In reality, aside from the name, the Beastman Empire was little different from a tribal alliance. Only the surrounding tribes, pressured by the Ironhammer Clan (the founders of the nominal empire), were forced to pay annual tribute in coin and minerals; elsewhere, beastman groups continued as always, some remote tribes even oblivious to the empire’s existence. Most beastmen cared only for food and weapons.

In this society of the strong devouring the weak, the prolific, small, and easily bullied goblins naturally became cannon fodder and laborers. Nearly all beastman tribes relied on these little creatures for their basic production. In battle, they were sent forward to wear down enemies; in peace, they served as slaves. Their particular qualities were highly valued by other beastmen—every tribal chief regarded goblins as property, not kin. Thus, the Wildwolf Clan’s chief, Battlewolf—a hyenaman over two meters tall and packed with muscle—was furious at the loss of more than a dozen of his cannon fodder assets.

“Those cunning, deceitful humans dare offend the great Wildwolf Clan. I will make them understand that the glory of the beastmen cannot be violated. Gather all our warriors and prepare to march—let the wretched humans witness the miserable fate of those who provoke us!”

At Battlewolf’s command, every hyenaman and even the goblin cannon fodder howled in response. Among beastmen, all are warriors, regardless of age or gender—those too old to fight perish, unless they are shamans, though such prestigious roles are absent in tribes of this size. War, to them, is the finest entertainment—a chance for uninhibited slaughter and a bounty of strange trophies.

So the tribe sharpened weapons, organized their pots and pans, donned leather armor, and even ran about in wild excitement, shouting until a minor leader knocked them down with a single punch.

About an hour later (in this world, a year has 365 days and a day, 24 hours), the Wildwolf Clan’s vanguard finally emerged from their ramshackle village. Led by a hyenaman, more than five hundred goblin cannon fodder marched forth, guided by comrades who had survived encounters with humans, their morale high as they advanced toward their target.

Meanwhile, in the Ironhammer Clan, the chieftain, Barbarian Hammer, sat on the sole throne in a spacious, well-lit hall, staring down at the wolfman scout and enunciating, “You’re saying humans are fighting each other now, and the battle is fierce?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I saw with my own eyes—five warships as tall as several beastmen, each side equipped with over a dozen cannons, were attacking the Madrid Empire’s coastal fortresses. The firepower was immense,” the wolf rider scout replied respectfully.

“This is heaven-sent opportunity, Your Majesty! I, Barbarian Bull, request to lead the minotaur legion as the vanguard, to crush the Madrid military stronghold of Calido and drive the human armies out of beastman lands!” A minotaur officer in the hall’s right column could not contain himself and stepped forward.

“Frido, what do you make of this?” Barbarian Hammer turned to the first shaman standing in the left column.

“Your Majesty, since human armies first entered beastman territory over a century ago, there have been hundreds of wars, large and small. Though humans are physically weaker, their weapons are advanced, their artillery fierce, and every engagement inflicts heavy losses upon us. Only because beastmen are brave and the bulk of humanity is far across the sea in Europa have they not penetrated further inland. Otherwise, Your Majesty, establishing this empire would have been far more difficult. I believe the Madrid people have not sought war with us recently and even engage in trade. Instead of attacking them and benefiting their enemies, we should watch and wait, then act as circumstances change,” Frido spoke calmly.

Frido’s status in the empire was exalted. As the chief shaman, even the emperor Barbarian Hammer dared not challenge him—shamans were the spiritual leaders of all beastmen. Frido was now over a hundred years old, having fought humans in several wars himself, and knew well their terrifying prowess. In his heart, he believed that, were it not for the sheer numbers of beastmen, they would have been blasted away by human artillery long ago.

In those battles, Frido’s strategy had always been to expend goblins in great numbers to drain human ammunition, only sending the main fighting races forward once the cannons overheated and could no longer fire—yet even so, victories were rare. As for why goblins always marched to their deaths without hesitation, that was thanks to the shamans’ signature bloodlust spell.

When Frido finished, the hall—if it could be called such, being the palace of an empire—fell silent. Owing to Frido’s status and reputation as the empire’s wisest mind, not even the most bloodthirsty war hawks dared make a sound. All eyes turned to the emperor, Barbarian Hammer, hoping he would autocratically launch a war, giving these beastman generals a pretext to seize wealth, grain, and women—for to beastmen, human women were far superior to their own females, for reasons one could well imagine.

Barbarian Hammer, though emperor, was only marginally more intelligent than the average beastman, and he was very self-aware, knowing that even ten of his brains combined could not match Frido. “Let’s follow Frido’s advice. General Kasa.”

“I am here, Your Majesty. Please instruct me,” replied a tall wolfman, stepping forward.

“Gather ten thousand wolf riders and station them at the Calido border, awaiting orders. Ensure they can rush to battle at a moment’s notice,” Barbarian Hammer commanded in a deep voice.

“By your command!” A flash of excitement crossed Kasa’s eyes as he responded.

“General Mundo, hear me. Assemble ten thousand elite mighty beastmen, five thousand half-beastman archers, and five hundred thousand goblin auxiliaries. Move them into the Kalimdor camp as a precaution. With the existing forces, we should have a million troops there—mostly auxiliaries, but enough for an offensive.” Clearly, Barbarian Hammer had not abandoned his dream of expelling the humans.

“By your command,” replied a robust mighty beastman.

“Increase the number of scouts—collect as much information as possible on the human civil war. Report such intelligence directly to me,” Barbarian Hammer issued his final order.

Thus, nearly a quarter of the empire’s main fighting force began streaming toward Kalimdor; the region was not far from the beastman capital, requiring passage through only one large tribe’s territory. One can imagine how thoroughly humanity had battered the beastman empire—almost to the point of reaching its gates.