The morning mist hadn't dissipated yet when the forest at Khyprian road's pass was awakened by a series of 'thudding' footsteps.
Spearhead carried a gleaming iron axe, following behind the Orc Boyz, muttering, "Chopping trees isn't as satisfying as chopping Long-Haired Monsters."
He was an orc who had joined the Blackrock Clan three months ago, and because he always liked to poke enemies' eyes with a spear, the greenskins in the tribe all called him "Spearhead."
This time, being summoned to chop trees, he was full of reluctance—greenskins were born to fight with weapons, not to wrestle with wood using an axe.
"Hurry up, all of you! If anyone slacks off, I'll let a squig lick his feet!" Bone Tree walked at the very front, carrying a giant axe. His hero title, "Gazlowe Madman," made his aura even stronger than before. His green muscles gleamed in the morning light, and every step he took made the ground tremble slightly.
Behind him followed over three hundred Orc Boyz and over two hundred hobgoblins, carrying iron axes, axes, and some even carrying logging saws captured from Katushir, marching majestically towards the forest.
Kurzadh rode Furball at the end of the line, watching the sluggish greenskins ahead, already having anticipated this.
greenskins loved to fight, steal things, and drink beer. What they hated most was this kind of tedious manual labor—last time, when he asked them to clean the squig pen, they almost collectively fled. He had to use mushroom wine to calm them down.
"Boss, what's so good about chopping these rotten trees? We might as well go to Black Feather Forest and chop Long-Haired Monsters!" Spearhead couldn't help but shout back, his iron axe dragging a scratch on the ground.
Kurzadh patted Furball's head, made him stop, then dismounted and walked to the front of the line.
He looked at the dispirited greenskins in front of him, cleared his throat, and said, "Listen up, all of you! Chopping trees isn't for fun, it's for building a fortress! With a fortress, we can block Khyprian road. From now on, whether it's human caravans or beastmen, anyone who wants to pass through here has to pay us a toll! With money, we can buy more iron, forge more axes, and drink more beer!"
The greenskins looked at each other, some orcs scratched their heads, some hobgoblins stood on tiptoes to peer, clearly not convinced—tolls and beer were things for the future, but the tree-chopping at hand was the most troublesome.
Kurzadh had expected this, a smile playing on his lips, and he raised his voice: "I know you find chopping trees boring! So I've decided—the top ten orcs who chop the most trees each day, and the top five hobgoblins, will each get a cup of fungus strong mushroom beer!"
"What?! Beer?!" Spearhead's eyes instantly lit up, and the iron axe in his hand almost dropped to the ground.
fungus strong mushroom beer was the strongest alcohol in the tribe, even more potent than black mushroom spirits. Usually, only veterans and leaders could drink it. He had only tasted a sip at the Katushir victory celebration once, and that spicy yet mellow taste had lingered in his mind for days.
Not just Spearhead, all the greenskins erupted. The Orc Boyz brandished their iron axes, and the hobgoblins also forgot their complaints, their small eyes filled with fanaticism.
"Boss! You promise?" a hobgoblin shouted, holding his axe high.
"I, Kurzadh, never lie to my drinking brothers!" Kurzadh thumped his chest, "As long as you chop a lot, there'll be plenty of beer! And if anyone can chop the most trees for three consecutive days, I'll give him half a roasted lamb as an extra reward!"
"WAAAGH!!" The greenskins completely boiled over. The Orc Boyz shouldered their iron axes and charged into the forest, shouting, "Beer! Roasted lamb!" The hobgoblins were not to be outdone, following behind with their axes, and even the usually laziest goblin ran over, wanting to help pick up branches to make up the numbers.
Spearhead charged at the forefront. Seeing a large tree that two people could barely embrace, he immediately raised his iron axe and chopped at the trunk.
"Clang!" The iron axe bit into the trunk, sending wood chips flying. He mustered all his strength, pulled out the axe, and chopped down again.
Sweat quickly soaked his leather armor, and his arms began to ache, but thinking of that cup of fungus strong mushroom beer, he felt a surge of energy, and his tree-chopping speed increased.
Bone Tree stood at the edge of the forest, looking at the bustling scene in front of him, and couldn't help but grin: "Boss, you really have a way! These Boyz, they're like they've been injected with chicken blood when they hear about beer!"
Kurzadh nodded with a smile, his gaze sweeping over the forest—this forest was about several dozen acres, equivalent to five or six football fields in size, with dense trees, not even a decent path, and the ground was covered with dead branches, fallen leaves, and vines, indeed like pioneering new land.
But he had already planned it out: first, he would have the greenskins start from the south side of the forest and open a ten-meters wide passage to the north, which would not only facilitate the subsequent transport of materials but also serve as the foundation for the city wall.
"Enthusiasm alone isn't enough; we need to keep an eye on them, so they don't start fighting while chopping trees," Kurzadh said.
He knew the greenskins' temperament best; one moment they might be chopping trees together, and the next they might be fighting over a big tree. Last time, when clearing the battlefield, two orcs fought each other bloody over a beastmen's helmet.
Sure enough, not long after, sounds of quarreling came from the forest.
Spearhead and another orc named Iron Claw were arguing over a sturdy oak tree—Spearhead had seen the tree first and was about to chop it when Iron Claw rushed over, saying that the tree was strong and could be used as a pillar for the city wall, so it should be his to chop.
"I saw it first! It's mine!" Spearhead raised his iron axe, his eyes fierce.
"I chop faster than you! This tree is mine!" Iron Claw was not to be outdone, his logging saw buzzing.
As they spoke, they rolled up their sleeves, on the verge of fighting, when Bone Tree suddenly rushed over, his giant axe landing with a clang between them: "Stop it, both of you! Want to fight? Wait until the trees are chopped, and I'll fight you all you want! Anyone who dares to fight now will have their beer qualification canceled!"
Spearhead and Iron Claw exchanged glances, both deflating—beer was much more important than fighting.
They both snorted, found other trees, and continued chopping.
Kurzadh watched this scene, shaking his head helplessly.
He walked into the forest and saw the hobgoblins circling a small tree—this tree wasn't thick, but it was covered in vines. The hobgoblins had chopped for a long time, only breaking a few vines, but the trunk remained unharmed.
"You idiots!" Kurzadh walked over, picked up a axe, chopped at the vines at the base of the trunk a few times, and then chopped at the trunk itself, "To chop a tree, you must first chop the vines, then the trunk. Don't chop wildly like a headless squig!"
The hobgoblins nodded quickly, imitating Kurzadh, clearing the vines first, then chopping the trunk.
Soon, the small tree crashed down with a "Boom," and the hobgoblins cheered, beginning to clear the branches.
As the sun gradually rose higher, the sounds of tree-chopping, cheering, and occasional squabbling in the forest blended together, bustling like a carnival.
Though the greenskins were drenched in sweat from exhaustion, no one complained—each person kept an eye on their companions, fearing that others would chop more than them and they would lose the chance to drink beer.
When Spearhead felled his fifth tree, his arms were already trembling. He leaned against the trunk, took a sip of the water he carried, then picked up his iron axe and walked towards the sixth tree.
"Two more trees, and today's beer will be in sight!" Spearhead encouraged himself, his eyes full of determination.
He hadn't been in the Blackrock Clan for long and hadn't achieved any great merits. If he could win beer by chopping trees this time, it would not only satisfy his craving but also allow him to hold his head high in front of the other orcs.
Kurzadh sat on a large rock at the edge of the forest, feeling much more at ease watching the busy greenskins .
He knew that logging was not a one-day affair; this forest would take at least half a month to clear. But as long as the greenskins were motivated, even the most difficult tasks could be accomplished.
While the greenskins were logging, he began to ponder the materials for the city wall.
He had discussed with Guzhana earlier that building a fortress would require a large amount of granite and iron bars—granite had to be quarried from the mountains to the northeast, and iron bars had to be smelted from iron ore in the mines.
Now that logging had begun, quarrying and iron smelting also needed to be put on the agenda as soon as possible.
"I need to ask Gazlowe to calculate how many people are needed for quarrying and how much iron ore is needed for smelting," Kurzadh mused, "And I also need to ask Guzhana to prepare to teach the hobgoblins how to quarry and the Orc Boyz how to smelt iron—without qualified materials, even the best city wall won't be strong."
He looked up at the mountains to the northeast, where clouds and mist swirled, and gray rocks could vaguely be seen. It was said that the mountain range contained abundant granite. In the past, when human caravans passed by, they had quarried some stones to pave roads, but the mountain roads were rugged, making transportation very difficult.
"Transportation is also a problem." Kurzadh frowned, "Granite is large and heavy; hobgoblins certainly can't carry it. We'll have to build some wooden carts and use squigs to pull them—Furball is strong now, so he might be able to pull them."
Just as he was thinking, Furball slowly walked over, rubbed his leg with his head, and made a "woof woof" sound. Kurzadh stroked Furball's head and said with a smile, "When the fortress is built, I'll make you a big den so you can sleep in comfortably."
Furball seemed to understand, wagging his tail happily, then ran into the forest and pounced on a freshly felled tree, beginning to tear at the bark—though he was a siege squig, he still retained his habit of gnawing on things.
As the sun set, the first day of logging finally ended.
The greenskins , carrying their axes, walked out of the forest with tired bodies, each face filled with anticipation.
Kurzadh had Bone Tree and Gazlowe tally the number of trees cut, while he returned to the tribe and took out his treasured fungus strong mushroom beer from his private warehouse—these fifty jars of beer were specially brewed for him by Zaggur. Now, for the sake of the tribe, he had to contribute them first.
"Boss, the tally is done! Among the orcs, Spearhead chopped the most trees, eight! Among the hobgoblins, Little Saw chopped the most, five!" Gazlowe ran over to report, holding a crooked statistical sheet.
Kurzadh nodded, had Zaggur pour the beer into clay bowls, then shouted to the greenskins : "Now, give beer to the brothers who chopped the most trees! Spearhead, come up and get your beer!"
Spearhead excitedly ran forward, took the clay bowl, and drank it down in one gulp.
The spicy beer slid down his throat, carrying a rich mushroom aroma, making him feel completely refreshed.
He wiped his mouth and bowed to Kurzadh: "Thank you, boss! Tomorrow, I will definitely chop more trees!"
The greenskins watched Spearhead drink his beer, their eyes full of envy, and all vowed to chop even more tomorrow.
Kurzadh looked at the scene before him, secretly pleased—to motivate the greenskins with a few cups of beer, this deal was too good.
As night deepened, the greenskins all returned to their tents to rest. Only the smell of wood chips and the traces of tree-chopping remained in the forest.
Kurzadh stood at the mountain pass, looking at Stonewatch in the distance, then at the forest before him, his eyes filled with determination.
Logging was just the first step; next came quarrying, iron smelting, wall building... The road to building the fortress was still long, but he believed that as long as his greenskins were united, even the most difficult tasks could be accomplished.