When the first rays of the morning sun shine through from the east, the entire Riptide Fort slowly wakes up from its slumber.
Uptown is full of morning crowds, people gather around the pool, washing away the last shred of sleep.
Wisps of smoke were rising from the kitchen, the men were busy preparing breakfast for the soldiers, some of the sentries returning from patrol were removing their armor, and some of the sleepy guys had not even eaten, so they planted themselves on the plank.
In this chaotic but dull morning, a commotion suddenly erupted in a house.
It was a normal house, but it was now full of syndicate soldiers.
"Glauder?
Glauder?
A lieutenant shouted at the door of the house, "Has anyone seen Glaude and his squad?"
” "No, sir, they came yesterday on a night patrol, but I was asleep and I don't know when they went out."
A sergeant rubbed his wistful eyes and replied.
"Which squad is patrolling behind them?"
"It's my squad, sir," said a rosacea-nosed veteran at the door of the house opposite, "I didn't see them come back, and I thought they were going straight back to sleep, so I went straight to patrol with my men." ” What the veteran said was not the truth, or not the whole truth—they had set out on patrol at least two quarters of an hour later than usual yesterday, and the veteran, who thought he had taken advantage, did not hand over to Glaude and led them away.
The lieutenant began to feel that something was wrong, and in connection with yesterday's reinforcement of the Alahi people, he knew that something bad must have happened.
After a few seconds, he decided to lead the team himself to see what was going on.
"You, take your people, come with me!"
He said, pointing to the veteran.
"Alright, sir!"
The veteran said with a sad face.
He and his men haven't eaten yet.
They followed the route of the Glaude team's patrol last night.
The route was fixed in order to prevent the enemy from massing in these neighborhoods and attacking the gates of the upper town.
They didn't notice anything unusual in Diagon Alley or King's Cross, but when they came to Tumbledown Alley, they almost immediately saw the anomaly on the other side of the alley.
After dawn, Tumbledown Alley was not as dark as it was at night, and the dried up pools of blood on the ground were particularly glaring.
After half the night, several waves of patrols passed here, and the ground was littered with bloody footprints.
"Glaude, they should have something going on here!"
The veteran affirmed in a serious manner.
Even his teammates couldn't help but roll their eyes, even a blind man could see it!
The lieutenant ignored him, but carefully searched the ground, and after a few minutes he found half a spear in the gutter by the street.
It must have been inadvertently kicked into a ditch by a patrolling soldier, and the night was so dark that they probably didn't even notice its presence.
He bent down, felt it out from underneath it, and took it in his hand and looked at it carefully.
It is a spear often used by troll headhunters, with a long blade etched with unique voodoo runes that are said to give the blade the power to tear the souls of enemies.
"Did the trolls do it?
Why?
The veteran asked with some hesitation.
It stands to reason that trolls and ogres are on the side of the Syndicate, and they shouldn't be doing that.
"Not necessarily, it could also be the blame of the Arashi."
The lieutenant whispered, not saying much out of caution.
Because among the upper echelons of the syndicate, it has always been rumored that those trolls are secretly eating people, but since they are eating the corpses of the Arathi, the higher-ups don't care so much.
But now it seems that the appetite of these trolls is growing.
"Come and see, sir!"
At this moment, several soldiers suddenly stood at the street corner in front and shouted.
In fact, without them shouting, the lieutenant had already noticed the trails on the ground, and the specks of blood dotted between them were hard to ignore.
They walked out of the alley, following the trails all the way west, to the exit of the Tower of Arathor.
The lieutenant couldn't help but grit his teeth as he looked at the place where the drag marks disappeared, and he turned his head to look at the old soldier with the same angry face.
"Send two people back, call the brothers of the whole company, bring weapons, and say that it is my order!"
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"Yes, sir!"
The veteran replied in a low voice.
The slick expression on his face had now completely vanished, replaced by blood-red eyes and a furled brow that looked like an angry Altranac mountain lion.
The soldiers who delivered the order ran very fast, and about two quarters of an hour later, the lieutenant's adjutant arrived with a heavily armed company to join them.
After listening to the veteran's story, almost everyone was angry.
"Blood debt and blood payment!"
"Give those green-skinned monsters a taste of our awesomeness!"
"Let's do it while our people are still alive!"
They gathered at a street intersection about a hundred meters from the exit of the Tower of Arasso, and talked about it.
Their chests were about to explode in their indignation, and they wanted to pick up the guys and the trolls immediately.
Equally furious, the lieutenant kept the last shred of his sanity as an officer, and he planned to solve the problem diplomatically first, after all, ogres and trolls were still their allies.
"I'll bring half of the people over, and you take the rest of the people to wait here, ready to answer at any time."
He said to his adjutant.
The group made their way to the gates of the Tower of Arathor, with the mindset of collecting debts from dragons—not as large and strong as ogres, but still intimidating to humans that looked like they had jumped out of a horror story.
In fact, the troll watching the gate had already noticed the gathered humans, but he didn't take it seriously, because it had been a long time since a human had dared to set foot in the gates of the Tower of Aratho.
The brutality and tyranny of ogres and the insidious cunning of trolls are enough to discourage all humans, not to mention the countless horrors of these two cannibal races, and no one wants to send themselves to the door and jump into the ogre's cauldron.
But to his surprise, the humans walked through the gate without fear and walked straight towards him.
Thinking of the human corpses that had been pushed into the city this morning, the troll couldn't help but feel a sense of weakness, even though he hadn't gotten a piece of the human flesh.
The lieutenant keenly noticed the panic in the troll's eyes, which made him feel a lot more reassured.
Now it's secure, they guessed it right - these trolls did it!
"I want to see Ocalal!"
Walking up to the troll, the lieutenant said with a blank face.
His anger had completely overpowered his fear of the monster at the moment, and the lieutenant had used almost all his strength to control himself from drawing his sword against him.
"What do you want from our leader, human?"
The troll asked, smiling, a stench of scavengers.
"I would like to speak with him, in the name of Duke Facurest."
The lieutenant replied that, in fact, it was a lie, and that he had not been sure who the murderer had been before he had come, so he had not reported it to the duke.
But that didn't stop him from borrowing the Duke's name, and he believed that the Duke wouldn't mind if he could get back the men who had been taken away, and he still had a little luck.
"Ocalal won't say anything to you," the troll laughed wickedly, "he's enjoying breakfast, a big breakfast!"
” As he spoke, the troll stabbed the spear in his hand, but it was more of a threat than a real attempt to do anything to the lieutenant.
He just wanted to get rid of the humans, or else he would probably be sent away as a scapegoat by O'Calar.
That's what the troll minions do, and between a troll minions and a fellow ogre, Ocalaral knew exactly which one to choose.
But the human's violent reaction was completely beyond his expectations, and the lieutenant quickly dodged the spear's stab, drew his sword from his side, and slashed it with great speed.
The sharp blade swept through the troll's throat, slicing more than half of the troll's neck.
"I repeat, I want to see Oracal!"
He roared loudly, his eyes fixed on the troll, who had dropped his spear and clutched his neck tightly in both hands—a serious injury that would be fatal to other races was far from incurable for a troll, and he didn't even need the help of a potion to heal on his own.
In fact, the name of the Troll's Blood Elixir comes from the trolls' ability to heal themselves almost from their limbs, even though the healing potion made from bone-setting grass and heather has nothing to do with the troll's blood.
"Take me to him, or I'll kill you, and then go find those who will take me there."
The lieutenant raised his saber to emphasize his tone, the blood dripping from the blade adding much to his words.
The threat worked, and the silent troll nodded subconsciously.
But this usually breezy action brought a tragedy.
As the troll's head tilted back—probably trying to get away from the lieutenant's blade, which was a bit big—the massive wound was torn open like a mouth, and with a soft click, his neck bone snapped off, leaving only a piece of skin on the back of his neck still attached between his head and shoulder.
"Uh......"
The lieutenant froze, he didn't know what to do, he just wanted an explanation, and he didn't plan to tear his face with the trolls.
But now it seems that everything is irretrievable.
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At this time, he didn't know that it was this completely accidental bloodshed that kicked off a great chaos.