After all, all the chieftains unanimously determined that Duke was using the Horde to weaken the high elves, and if the Horde dared to attack Silvermoon City, Duke would dare to burn the city again. Even though this was a perfect misunderstanding, even if Duke wanted to burn it, the elves would absolutely refuse, but the Horde didn't know.
A 2800-year unbroken pact! Doesn't it sound grand?
Different races, and the Horde, lacking information, had no idea about the minor disputes and shady dealings between humans and elves.
As a result, all the chieftains believed: instead of wasting their elite forces on the elves, who couldn't fundamentally harm the humans, it would be better to withdraw their troops early and attack the vital cities of the humans.
Unfortunately, a very intelligent orc leader encountered a troll leader who only acted on emotion and was already blinded by hatred. The result was destined to be a tragedy.
"No—the trolls will not acknowledge this pact written in the common language of humans, full of word games! As long as the Horde is still fighting the elves with the trolls! We are still brother tribes!" Zul'jin roared, holding up his remaining battle axe.
Orgrim felt frustrated. There was no direct translation between Troll and Orc languages. The only way to communicate was through the common language of humans. Now you say you want to break the pact written in the common language, Zul'jin?
Orgrim also got angry, to be honest, orcs themselves were not a particularly good-tempered race: "I—Orgrim—Warchief of the Horde! I have to consider the interests of the entire Horde, not just the interests of your troll family! Are you saying that as long as there is a single high elf left alive in the world, I should have fifty thousand elite Horde troops running around with you trolls until the last elf is killed?"
"Yes! That's right! Only in this way can you show your sincerity! Only in this way are you qualified to be allies of the trolls!"
Zul'jin suddenly stepped forward, sweeping away all the obstacles between him and Zul'jin: "Let me repeat on behalf of the Warchief—the Horde is not just made up of trolls! We have orcs! We have ogres! We have gronns! We have death knights! Trolls have no right to demand the entire Horde to act as their henchmen! Without the support of the Horde, you trolls are only fit to be rats deep in the forest! You can't even step into Eversong Woods!"
Zul'jin's face turned red with such a blunt insult: "Rats? You dare to say that the citizens of the great Amani Empire are rats!? No existence can insult the trolls! No—Zul'jin! You kneel down and apologize to the troll ancestors!"
"Apologize? Never! Trolls who can't do anything without orcs, why should brave orcs apologize?" This time, Zul'jin also got angry, directly whistling. A huge adult dragon suddenly rose from the rear camp, even if it was unwilling, as long as Zul'jin gave an order, it would let Zul'jin personally experience what dragon breath is.
"Zul'jin! Last chance, if you don't kneel down and apologize, I'll cut off your legs with the wind, so you'll always kneel!" Zul'jin gestured with his battle axe.
"Bastard! Don't you think about it, without the storm altar we built for you, where would you get the power of the storm!?" Zul'jin pulled out his warhammer, directly confronting him.
"Enough! Enough! Do you really want to start fighting here, letting the humans and elves on the city walls laugh at us?" Orgrim rushed between the two, directly smashing his hammer on the ground. Sand and dust scattered, a huge circular pit with a diameter of more than three meters let everyone experience the astonishing strength of the Warchief.
For a moment, the whole scene was silent.
However, the tense atmosphere of drawn swords did not ease at all. Orgrim saw that in these days, the trolls and orcs who had been intimately mixed together had clearly stood in two opposing lines, holding weapons, nervously watching each other.
Orgrim suddenly realized that the honeymoon period between the Horde and the trolls ended the moment Duke's banner appeared.
Orgrim uttered the name of that nightmare in his heart with the greatest hatred.
"Duke Marcus!"
Is this your calculation? Is this what you hoped to see?
Very well! Your treachery, I, Orgrim, will remember!
Sharp teeth, gnashed by Orgrim, he suddenly looked up at Zul'jin, his eyes as sharp as lightning.
"Wake up, Zul'jin! The war between trolls and elves has lasted for six thousand years. In these six thousand years, neither of you has completely eliminated the other. Destroying the other is not an easy task that can be done in a short period of time. To destroy a wise race, it requires long-term and multiple victories, accumulating momentum bit by bit. This time the trolls have won enough, as long as the trolls stay in the Horde, we will eventually eliminate all elves, humans, and dwarves, and dominate this planet!"
Orgrim's earnest persuasion was not without good intentions.
If it were another leader with a clearer mind and above-average intelligence, perhaps they would have listened.
Unfortunately, a heart set on revenge and the victories of recent days have ultimately dropped Zul'jin's already not high intelligence to the same level as an idiot.
He decisively refused!
"No need! The trolls are ashamed to be associated with the Horde, who are scared off by a single flag!" Zul'jin raised the remaining axe in his hand and shouted: "Trolls! We don't need to rely on the cowardly orc Horde! We can destroy Silvermoon City by ourselves!"
The hearts of the trolls were stirred by Zul'jin's inflammatory declaration, and they immediately raised their weapons together, issuing a sky-shaking roar.
The spears were like a forest, and it really looked like something.
Regardless of Orgrim's reaction, Zul'jin led the troll chieftains away.
"Idiot! Don't even think about it, without us, they wouldn't even have the qualification to step into Eversong Woods." Zul'jin grumbled.
"What should we do?" Kargath Bladefist asked.
"Go! And go as soon as possible!" Orgrim picked up the map that had fallen to the ground, circled a spot on the map, and finally landed on a name: "We go this way, then go here..."
The chieftains thought about it and finally nodded together.
Back in Silvermoon City, at the banquet.
Duke finally reluctantly let go of Alleria.
"Duke, get some rest early. Maybe there will be a hard fight tomorrow. After all, it will be at least four days before your reinforcements arrive."
"Hard fight? What hard fight?" Duke pretended to be confused.
"What do you mean?"
"High elves can't beat the Horde composed of orcs, ogres, gronns, and trolls, can't they beat a group of trolls who don't even know how to break magic?" Duke replied with a smirk.
"Oh—if that's true, it would be the best news I've heard since Quel'Thalas was invaded." The one who answered was not Alleria, but Prince Kael'thas, who had somehow arrived in the corridor a few meters away.