My Kingdom Building Done Right!
Chapter 252: Playing With Fire
"Hahaha!" One of the warriors of the Darkmane Tribe laughed. "Finally, the tables have turned!"
"Serves them right!"
"Burn!"
"This is the might of the Darkmane Tribe!"
"These fools never stood a chance to begin with!"
The depressed warriors rejoiced at the sight of the thick smoke rising toward the mountain.
The forest was now starting to burn fiercely, making them feel excited. In fact, they hoped their foes would be roasted alive inside their own fortress.
After all, if that really happened, the Darkmane Tribe would win this war without even engaging the Aslan Tribe in an all-out war.
Even Troy and Jafar were very pleased by this turn of events.
They even leisurely visited the camps of the other tribes to make some casual talk since they had nothing else to do.
The two were aware that the high-ranking chieftains and the Grimhowl Tribe’s great shaman were with the Aslan Tribe.
And this was why they decided to use this strategy. Although they believed that this wouldn’t be enough to kill them, it would still inconvenience them.
The mere thought of Hagen and Malik breathing the smoke of the fire they caused was enough to make Troy laugh internally.
Since the big shots weren’t around, the two threw their weight around, especially against the middle-ranked tribes.
"Why don’t the three of you just become my vassals?" Troy asked in a teasing tone. "After I’m done with the Aslan Tribe, I will pay extra attention to your tribes."
"Why are you acting cocky?" Oswald, the Chieftain of the Grimfang Tribe, asked back with a sneer. "I heard that you and your tribe have been shaking like a leaf on your way here all because of a single archer. Say, did you suddenly regain your confidence because that person showed you mercy for a day?"
Travis had stayed over the night, and he went to tell the story of their journey. He didn’t hesitate to tell everyone about the deadly archer who had made the entire army fearful day and night.
This was the stain of the Darkmane Tribe. And yet, he didn’t hide it from anyone. Naturally, this made the other tribes wonder why Travis was sharing information that would definitely enrage his father if it was discovered.
To no surprise, the moment Troy and Jafar heard Oswald’s reply, the smiles on their faces disappeared.
Unlike the other two middle-ranked chieftains, Oswald wasn’t scared of the Darkmane Tribe.
Why?
That’s because the Grimhowl Tribe and the Grimfang Tribe shared a connection.
One of the conditions for the separation was that if both tribes faced a trouble that they couldn’t solve on their own, the other would extend their hand to help them.
Marcus and Elias were aware of this agreement, so they kept a watchful eye on Troy, making sure he wouldn’t go too far.
Although they were still young, they were still the heirs of the Grimhowl Tribe.
Whenever their father wasn’t around, both of them held authority over the tribe.
The other reason why Oswald dared to talk fearlessly was because he knew what had happened to the Darkmane City. This was a secret Leone told them to keep until the war was over.
Though, if not for that promise, he would have probably already spilled the beans just to see Troy and Jafar’s reactions.
He even thought that it was quite funny that both sides used fire to deal with each other.
But in the end, he feared Leone more than Troy, even though the latter had brought his army to wipe out the Aslan Tribe from the face of the Borderlands.
"You’re too arrogant for your own good, Oswald." Jafar narrowed his eyes. "Are you perhaps hoping Hagen will stand behind you?"
"You’re the one who is too arrogant," Oswald scoffed in return. "Win first before you talk big. Otherwise, you have no power here."
"Am I really the one who has no power here?" Jafar smirked. "Our army is here. If we get rid of all of you, no one will know what happened here, right?"
Suddenly, he heard the flapping of wings. Soon, a familiar voice reached his ears.
"I’d like to see you try."
Jafar raised his head to see a giant hawk land a few meters away from them. On its back was none other than the great shaman of the Grimhowl Tribe.
""Great Uncle!""
Marcus and Elias hurriedly greeted Gundar, while the rest of the Grimhowl Tribe bowed to pay their respects.
The moment the great shaman appeared, Troy and Jafar’s arrogance vanished like fire doused by glacial water.
"What were you saying earlier?" Gundar asked after he was only a meter away from Jafar. "I didn’t hear you properly."
"I was just joking," Jafar replied casually. "Or are you telling me that you really believe I’d do something like that? Come on, Gundar. I’m not that stupid."
"Go back to your camp." Gundar made a shooing motion with his hand. "Before I smash your head to meat paste."
Troy eyed the great shaman with contempt before turning around to leave, while Jafar followed behind his chieftain after giving Gundar one last glance.
Clearly, he hated the great shaman of the Grimhowl Tribe. In his eyes, the title of being the great shaman of the Borderlands should belong to him, Jafar!
When the two had finally left, Marcus and Elias asked if their father was fine.
In response, Gundar assured them that Hagen, Malik, and Conrad (Godwin) were safe and that they had already taken shelter inside the mountain.
The people of the other tribes felt more secure now that someone like Gundar had come to serve as a deterrent to the Darkmane Tribe.
As long as he was here, Troy and Jafar wouldn’t dare to target them even if they wanted to.
The forest continued to burn until sunset. Since the Grimjaw Forest was lush and humid, the fire didn’t spread as fast as the Darkmane Tribe wished.
Aside from that, the emergency clearing that the Orcs and the warriors of the Aslan Tribe had made also had an impact, delaying its advance.
Unfortunately, the strong winds had allowed the embers to fly toward the other trees, and it soon caught fire due to the high temperature in the surroundings.
Yet, despite all that, a flying squirrel soared above the darkness of the night, a black mist trailing under its wings.
The squirrel’s hateful gaze landed on the campfires of the Darkmane Tribe.
Tonight, it would have its vengeance.
Soon, it quietly landed on one of the supply wagons of the army, which was located at the rear of their formation.
A handful of guards were stationed around it, but Blitz was too small for them to notice.
As it crawled its way inside the wagon, the black mist under its body spread out.
Hassan took out a small bottle from his storage ring. Then, taking out its stopper, he sprinkled its contents over the sacks and crates that were filled with grain and other consumables.
A moment later, he took out a small candle and lit it, making sure its light would be hidden behind the crates, preventing anyone from seeing it.
Once that was done, he once again transformed into a black mist, hiding under Blitz’s shadow.
The flying squirrel then stealthily moved toward the next wagon to once again repeat the same process.
Their mission was to burn down the food supplies of the Darkmane Tribe.
Blitz and Hassan were now expert arsonists after completing their previous mission. They understood that if one of the wagons caught fire, people would quickly rush over to put them out right away.
With that, the only way for them to succeed was to make all the wagons catch fire at the same time.
Hassan repeated the process, placing a candle that grew smaller with each wagon that they infiltrated.
When they were halfway finished with their mission, a loud shout spread inside the camp.
"Fire! The wagons are burning!"
Blitz and Hassan glanced at each other after that, knowing they could no longer continue.
They hastily escaped and watched as several wagons caught fire from the sky.
Both regretted their insufficient speed, believing they could’ve burned more wagons before the fires were discovered.
Proceeding with the arson was an option, but Hassan sensed several strong presences moving in their direction, prompting Blitz to escape as fast as possible.
Cries of panic and shock erupted throughout the Darkmane Tribe’s camp.
The triumphant mood that had filled the army only hours ago vanished, replaced by the bitter realization that those who played with fire should always be prepared to be burned by it.
As wagon after wagon was consumed by the flames, nearly half of their food supplies turned to ash before their eyes.
Faced with the threat of starvation and dwindling provisions, Troy and Jafar understood that they could no longer afford to drag out the campaign.
The war they had hoped to win on their own terms would now have to be decided quickly, or risk their army collapsing before they could even invade the fortress of the Aslan Tribe.
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(A/N: I am not dragging the war. Writing a war arc isn’t as easy as you guys think.)