Chapter 64
Chapter 64
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Normalizing the South with Supply Cheats (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Under the city walls, at the forest's edge, thousands of trolls lay in disarray.
Just moments ago, they had fled in humiliation from the empire's terrifying thunder, desperate to minimize their losses.
Hundreds of weapons capable of shattering boulders in a single strike.
They expected the enemy to seize the momentum and pursue them relentlessly, or at least hunker down behind the firmly sealed walls and bolster their defenses.
Instead, what assaulted their noses wasn't thunderous roars, but thick smoke and a stomach-churning aroma.
—Sizzle!—
Atop the walls, massive iron griddles had been set up along the direction of the wind.
Rather than trembling in fear, the soldiers cheered as they dumped pork and sausages onto the sizzling plates.
The sound of grease popping and boiling carried all the way to the forest's edge.
Soon, a rich scent tore through the dank stench of the swamp, riding the wind straight into the enemy camp.
The savory, sweet fragrance of garlic and onions frying. The irresistible allure of pork fat rendering down.
In the rear of the enemy camp, inside a makeshift tent, Chieftain Juk Soon watched the scene in disbelief.
"What the hell are those bastards doing?"
Standing beside him, Agdra sniffed the air a couple of times, then growled from behind his helmet.
"A feast? Those insane imperial dogs! We're right in front of them!"
Atop the walls, they could even be seen slathering red and white sauces thickly onto chunks of bread amid laughter.
Had they forgotten whether they came to wage war or to picnic?
Overwhelmed by this unprecedented insult and the turmoil in their bellies, Juk Soon trembled, gripping his club.
"Bluffing...! It's a cheap trick to stoke our rage before their food runs out! Don't fall for it, warriors! Tonight, we prepare to strike their weakness!"
The very next day, as the jungle sun rose, the trolls' noses were once again pierced by the smell of grilling meat.
The feast from last night hadn't ended.
"Gods, from morning no less...!"
The expeditionary force atop the walls took turns at the griddles, grilling sausages and bread for breakfast.
Some even taunted the trolls below by waving bread chunks at them.
Just then, a soldier in charge of rations came rushing into Chieftain Juk Soon's camp.
"Ch-Chief! All our provisions are gone!"
The emergency rations for thousands over two days—that was all they had. Juk Soon scoffed instead.
"No need to worry! They're trapped behind those walls, but the jungle itself is our larder!"
He bellowed to his warriors.
"All troops, begin local foraging! Scour the swamps and forests, hunt and gather everything in sight! Tonight, we'll hold a feast grander than theirs!"
"Waaah!"
The troll warriors cheered at the familiar jungle ways and scattered into the forest.
Three days passed into the fourth. Things took a bizarre turn.
The walls still wafted scents—refreshing yet intense, mysterious and potent aromas alternating each day.
But the Raarak hunters who had dispersed into the forest began returning empty-handed.
"Chief... it's strange. The swamp game's all gone."
"Not even a single giant catfish, let alone water snakes!"
"The fruit trees are barren branches!"
"What?!"
A war on a scale they'd never seen.
Dozens or hundreds holding a fort and foraging locally—the jungle could sustain them.
But thousands of voracious trolls had stripped the area bare in just two days.
The trolls clutched their growling stomachs and glared at the walls.
Meat grilled there still, while they—the masters of the jungle—starved.
By the morning of the fifth day, discontent turned to dread.
"What the hell are they eating to hold out?"
"That smell... it's no bluff..."
Juk Soon couldn't accept this illogical reality.
The jungle's masters starving while the besieged imperials feasted? Absurd.
"Bluff. Has to be."
He muttered through hunger-weary eyes.
"They're waiting for us to tire and retreat, smoking their last scraps. There must be a secret supply route behind those walls, or they're just acting full."
Agdra nodded.
"This will break our soldiers' morale. We need to confirm the truth."
Finally, Juk Soon made his call.
"Send scouts. Pick the swiftest and have them infiltrate the walls tonight. See if they're truly feasting or clutching empty bellies while bluffing!"
"Tch..."
The lanky troll called the Acrobat, Malik, began scaling Raktali's walls with a grimace.
He'd earned the nickname for climbing trees well, but his scrawny build and weak strength meant constant scorn from the tribe.
Being dragged here was bad enough; risking his life on these walls was hell.
Juk Soon always used the likes of him as cannon fodder.
Tradition, jungle laws—such talk never touched him.
Hunger made his hands slip, but he gritted his teeth. Falling meant death.
"Hoo!"
Malik slipped silently through the palisade gaps and hid atop the wall.
Peering down, he swallowed hard.
'!'
No smoke and mirrors. No bluff.
The fort's central plaza had become a grand feast hall.
Dozens of massive griddles billowed meaty scents nonstop. Soldiers, Raktali trolls, even refugee small-tribe folk all mingled, receiving plates of food.
Malik's eyes followed the rations. Freshly baked bread. Stir-fried pork and sausages.
And vibrant sauces poured atop.
The intense garlic white sauce he'd smelled from afar. Nutty, tangy white sauce.
Rich meaty red sauce, even pink-tinged veggie-mixed sauce.
He fought back stomach acid rising from hunger.
Soldiers didn't stop at bread and meat. They savored rare local ingredients from the southern jungles.
"Whoa, look at the fat on this one."
"Isn't this noble-lord table fare?"
"My cousin works arms under Viscount Twinballs—says he sees this once every couple years."
"That guy?"
A whole red swamp giant catfish steamed, piled mountain-high with aromatic red sauce on its flaky flesh.
Fragrant mandrake fruits and veggies thinly sliced, tossed in pink sauce as salad.
Malik's eyes bloodshot. Betrayal. Rage boiled.
His fellow jungle trolls starved.
Thousands scoured the forest in five days; even roots were scarce now.
Yesterday's ration: a single tough dried meat scrap.
And it was Juk Soon's guard's leftovers—utter humiliation.
The chief preached jungle laws and tradition, but it never filled his belly.
The strong pushed the weak like him forward as fodder, denying fair treatment.
Underfed and light, he climbed trees; now, starved, he scaled death-trap walls.
Of course. To them, a tree-climbing acrobat was disposable trash.
Report back? A "good job" and scraps at best.
Even netting that fat catfish for them—he'd get bitter liver, not tender flesh.
But look inside those walls.
Imperial soldiers, Raktali warriors, refugee small-tribe folk—all got equal plates.
Their faces glowed with fullness and relief, no hunger or fear.
Malik's gut twisted in agony. Hunger spasms.
His eyes locked on the plaza-center red swamp catfish steam.
A soldier carved a thick flake, dunked it in fragrant red sauce, and ate.
Malik's reason snapped.
Reporting? Screw it.
Juk Soon's wrath, jungle laws—nothing mattered more than his hunger now.
He needed that lifelong craved, never-tasted fat red swamp catfish.
The troll slid down the palisade, darted through outpost shadows.
A fleeting moment, eyes off him.
As he reached for a hunk of meat from the shadows—
—Grab.
An iron grip seized his wrist.
"!"
Malik looked up. A massive rock troll, Raktali warrior, loomed over him.
At the same time, in the makeshift command post atop the walls.
I watched the bizarre feast below with satisfaction.
A small Raktali troll clutched a soldier's proffered sausage and shouted in clumsy imperial tongue.
"De-delicious!"
Beside him, a burly Raktali warrior piled aioli mountain-high on bread, squealing in bliss.
"Heh heh, fresh white cream! Tasty! Tazdingo!"
The refugee small-tribe folk were the same.
They stuffed themselves silly.
Days ago, trembling from Raarak threats, now safe behind walls, they marveled at imperial sauces for the first time.
"This pink sauce is amazing! Makes bitter herbs sweet!"
"White sauce with swamp river perch—no fishiness at all!"
Soldiers, Raktali warriors, refugees mingled.
They ate grilled meat from the same griddles, shared the same sauces.
No shadow of hunger or fear anywhere.
As I nodded approvingly at the scene, a minor commotion stirred in the wall's corner.
Amid belly-rubbing soldiers, a Raktali warrior dragged a scrawny troll like luggage.
Rak Jin approached, assessed, then came to me. His face hardened in fury.
"Saint, we've caught an enemy spy."
"Spy?"
I echoed. Rak Jin spat with disgust.
"Yes. The coward hid in shadows, daring to steal our sacred rations."
At that, my stiff expression softened. A faint smile crept unbidden to my lips.
"Steal? Our food?"
Rak Jin seemed puzzled by my reaction.
"Saint? He's clearly the enemy. We should behead him now..."
"No."
I raised a hand to stop him.
Everything fit perfectly.
Forcing down irrepressible laughter, I told the warrior before me.
"Instead, bring that soldier here."