Chapter 238: Food

Charlot Mecklenburg served as an administrative officer under Clair Bretagne, stationed in the Behemoth Principality. He was also acting steward for Mostar Castle, Seagull City, Silver Dove Castle, Odeshan City, and Byberry City. According to imperial law, Charlot was not permitted to leave his jurisdiction. During wartime, leaving without authorization could result in charges of treason, punishable by the severest penalties.

Though the Empire’s laws were sometimes treated as a joke, they were no laughing matter for someone like Charlot, who had no significant connections. For him, the law was often enforced with unflinching severity.

Many naïve individuals believed that aligning themselves with a powerful figure gave them license to act recklessly, assuming their benefactor would always protect them. However, anyone with basic common sense knew that no superior would tolerate a troublemaker for long.

After all, a benefactor was a benefactor, not a surrogate parent.

While Charlot was deeply concerned for Annie Bretagne, he could not abandon his responsibilities or his identity to rush back to Strasbourg, leaving the five cities under his protection unguarded. If he did, countless nobles would seize the opportunity to push for his execution.

From a purely strategic standpoint, Charlot’s ability to operate outside Strasbourg offered greater utility, given the city’s limited military potential. For instance, he now commanded a troop of orcs, including seven Transcendents. Among them were five warriors from the Redback Bear Tribe and two from the Yellow Bear Tribe.

Charlot mused to himself that he seemed to have an unusual affinity for bears.

The noble families of Fars Empire had not anticipated the Southern Orc Tribes bypassing the frontlines and arriving directly at Strasbourg's gates. As a result, the city had descended into daily chaos, frantically conscripting troops from the civilian population to replenish the Royal Knights Order.

The Royal Knights Order, once the Empire’s most formidable force, had been significantly depleted, with the majority of its strength reassigned to Ferranden. What remained to defend the capital was less than a fifth of its original numbers, leaving Strasbourg alarmingly weakened.

Due to political considerations, the city was left with only the Royal Knights Order, city patrol guards, prison troops, and other local forces. Private knight orders belonging to nobles were confined to their own territories, as the Emperor could not permit any noble's knight order to establish a foothold in the capital.

Julius Axel, infuriated by the situation, had berated numerous ministers, though his rage did little to mitigate Strasbourg’s crisis.

The orc army, meanwhile, continued to swell, exceeding 200,000 soldiers, with reinforcements arriving steadily. However, they refrained from launching a full-scale siege, engaging only in minor skirmishes with the Royal Knights Order before withdrawing.

Strasbourg’s officials were baffled by the orcs’ intentions. Why weren’t they launching an assault? Couriers were dispatched in all directions, pleading for reinforcements to converge on the capital.

Yet, time was not on Strasbourg’s side. If the stalemate continued, the orcs would gain nothing.

Hidden among the vast orc army, Charlot quickly deduced their strategy. He had already encountered more than ten Saint-rank shaman sorcerers among the orcs. Their objective was clear—they intended to replicate what they had done at Silver Dove Castle.

At Silver Dove Castle, three shaman sorcerers had summoned a raging sandstorm to bury the fortress. But Strasbourg, being far larger, required far more power. The orcs were well aware of this and had gathered at least twelve to fifteen Saint-rank shamans for the task.

If they succeeded in engulfing Strasbourg in sand, the 200,000-strong orc army could devastate the Fars Empire completely. No force in the Empire could hope to stop them.

With the city gates sealed shut, Charlot had no means of delivering a warning. The Royal Knights Order would neither trust him nor allow him entry under the watchful eyes of the orc horde.

From his vantage point, Charlot gazed at Strasbourg, his thoughts drifting to Annie. All he could do was hope that the Saint-rank defenders within the city could hold off the shaman sorcerers.

Deep in the heart of the orc army, surrounded by danger at every turn, Charlot refrained from acting recklessly.

Suddenly, Hundred Bears growled low, signaling the approach of another orc unit. This troop, numbering only a few hundred, was escorting nearly a thousand human captives. The sight of orcs beating and abusing the prisoners ignited a fire of fury in Charlot’s chest.

Suppressing his anger, Charlot ordered sternly, “Find out what they’re doing here.”

Hundred Bears roared his inquiry, “State your tribe and purpose!”

An elderly werewolf emerged from the group, shouting, “We are from the Shanda Tribe, delivering food to the frontlines.”

“We need rest and a place to prepare the food.”

Charlot glanced at the convoy, his heart sinking. Besides the human captives, there was no sign of other provisions. It was clear that these prisoners were the "food."

Burying his rage, Charlot gestured. “Let them into the camp.”

Hundred Bears relayed the order, opening the way for the Shanda Tribe to settle in the camp.

As Charlot pondered how to address the situation, a commotion broke out. He hurried over to find a female human captive fighting back against several werewolves. Her injuries were severe—her arm dangled, clearly broken, and her head was matted with blood. Her fine clothing was so tattered and soaked with mud and blood that it was impossible to discern its original style or color.

Her feet were bound, and the werewolves beat her with sticks as she rolled on the ground, desperately attempting to retaliate.

One burly werewolf roared, “Little wench, you killed over twenty of our brothers. Before you die, I’ll make sure you taste the sweetest pain in this world!”

“Brothers, stop beating her. She’s mine!”

Charlot shot a glance toward the edge of the camp and signaled to a few Redback Bear warriors before striding forward.

“This woman belongs to me,” he declared.

The burly werewolf glared. “The Shanda Tribe is not to be trifled with.”

Charlot smiled coldly. “What a coincidence. Neither are the Redback Bears.”

As Charlot extended his hand, Big Bear obediently handed him the Berserker Blade. The werewolf’s eyes narrowed in alarm, and he howled, “You’re a human!”

Charlot thrust the Berserker Blade with flawless precision. Employing the 77 Movements of Heaven’s Wing, he pierced the werewolf’s throat in one clean strike.

As the werewolf’s body flew, Charlot shouted, “Kill them!”

His orc warriors erupted into action. The Shanda Tribe’s werewolves, possessing only two Transcendents, were utterly unprepared. One of them, the burly werewolf, had already been slain by Charlot. The other, an elderly leader, barely had time to let out a warning howl before his skull was crushed.

• Please take a moment to rate this novel at Novelupdate.

Next Chapter >>>