When Malin saw Xing Chi, the Night Watcher of the National Church, he was in the midst of a squabble with Anthony over the issue of traveling north—Malin himself reckoned the battle in the north was somewhat dangerous, after all, who knew how many Black Orcs were encamped there, perhaps a thousand? Maybe two thousand? Or maybe even more had emerged from the woods in recent days.
In any case, Malin did not wish to bring the father of the future head of House Gallo onto the battlefield, this old patriarch, deemed a waste by some, could die for all he cared, but it would be no laughing matter if his apprentice lost his father before even being born.
But Anthony had a look of determined resolve, "We people of South Farole have an ancestral grudge against the Black Orcs so deep that heaven itself could not contain it, and it was they who forced us to cross the ocean in the past, now that we have a chance to kill some Black Orcs, how could I pass it up."
What an irksome fellow, but Malin had no grounds to refute him—after all, Anthony wasn’t wrong, the people of South Farole were once the true masters of the Great Wilderness before the Black Orcs swept across the plains, forcing their ancestors to cross the Raging Sea where scarcely one in ten survived.
In the Church of Justice, many Farolians voluntarily joined the order, becoming Paladins or Attendants, all to decapitate Black Orcs, and in the large South Farolian families, having a trophy room specifically for Black Orc skulls was considered exceedingly honorable.
"Then I’ll need authorization from your great-grandfather, or else should something happen to you, I can’t just conjure another you to face your family," Malin could only hope that Anthony’s family would take care of this wildly impractical groom-to-be.
After sending off the Night Watcher and Anthony, Malin only then thought of a problem on his way back to the parlor, "Right, wasn’t that Night Watcher supposed to see me?"
"He and Miss Lulu swapped tasks," Lillim explained.
"There’s really something wrong with the Night Watchers, how could they take their job so lightly," Malin was somewhat unhappy—the girl named Lulu might be cute, but... she was way too familiar; had he not repeatedly confirmed she was a girl, Malin would have long since booted this person into the stratosphere.
"No, actually it’s quite normal for Night Watchers to behave this way, the observers typically watch the target, and if they don’t match up well, then there’s no point to the observation, so it’s often a mutual selection between observer and observee," Lillim said.
"Lillim, you seem to know quite a bit about this," Malin asked curiously.
"That’s because we have observers in our Church," Lillim turned to glance at Malin, "Mother Vannon of the Sydney southern parish, she had an observer sister; I met her several times when I was little, she passed away a few years ago... she was a very kind old lady."
Hearing this, Malin patted the young lamb’s head, he could see the remembrance in the girl’s eyes, this old lady must have been a compassionate elder, otherwise, she wouldn’t have left such a deep impression on their Lillim.
After returning to the hall with Lillim, Malin had not yet spoken to the ladies when a messenger from the Church of Justice burst into the hall.
"Lord Malin! The corps has encountered the Black Orc brigade in the Dalsak Domain, just a hundred kilometers from the destination!"
Malin’s first reaction was that the location was at least several dozen kilometers away from his intended campsite, and at least sixty kilometers from that Black Orc encampment.
"Map," Malin turned to command Lillim, then looked at the messenger before him, "How’s the battle going?"
Despite the intense anxiety within, Malin still tried to ask the messenger in the calmest voice possible.
"A complete victory, m’lord!" the messenger replied with excitement.
"And the casualties?" Malin continued to inquire.
"To start from the ambush on the National Guard, m’lord," perhaps mentioning the state of the Sydneyan National Guard made the messenger somewhat embarrassed, but Malin truly felt relieved—the Black Orcs might not be as formidable in wooded lands as their greenskin kin, but they were not to be underestimated.
"Go on," Malin nodded.
"What else can I say?" the old soldier turned to glance at his deputy and political commissar, the young Easterner pointing at the National Guard troops sneaking along the bottom of the hill by the woods: "We should tell them that the Black Orcs can sneak right up to our noses through the woods, aside from the elves, they’re the most formidable foe in the forest."
"But we already sent out the messenger troops, kid, have you forgotten how their commander replied to us?" the old soldier countered.
"The Sydneyans have not battled the Black Orcs in too long, they’ve forgotten how terrifying these devils can be, we stand no chance in close combat with those fiends! If they catch us off guard again, their entire regiment could be wiped out."
"Then you go tell him, young man, see if he’ll make any exceptions for a labor scout from the merchant’s factory guard," the veteran remarked while patting the young man’s shoulder.
Having spirit and a conscience was a good thing, but the military commander opposite them did not take these workers seriously at all, despite the fact that among these workers were some retired Sydneyan Guards Army veterans, Eastern Kingdom Rangers, Northern archers from Sharpshooter regiments, and even Elven Archers.
All here were rallied under the banner of Lord Malin, not under the orders of his Majesty the King.
The National Guard had utterly lost face in the last two days, and if these National Guards could actually heed their words... that was impossible, the King’s soldiers would never follow the command of a factory guard under a great Merchant.