Chapter 276: Refugees

“This is so boring,” a young wolfman warrior muttered during a break.

The forested mountains before them were part of their patrol area, but the land wasn’t theirs. It belonged to that half-elf named Tagraedi.

Although they had once felt deep gratitude toward him for rescuing the Silvermoon Wolf Clan from disaster, that gratitude began to fade as time passed. Now, amidst the monotony of their lives, it was even turning into resentment.

The wolfpeople were confined to a few secluded valleys to avoid being discovered, except during patrols. Without enough pastureland, they could no longer raise sheep. They had to clear terraces along the streams to plant the seeds Princess Nina brought from Orgrimmar, while also relying on the patrol and guard duties assigned by Orgrimmar to earn wages to feed themselves and their kin.

The wolfkin didn’t have a specific saying for “kindness turning into enmity,” but the situation was undoubtedly heading in that direction.

Patrolling their own land and patrolling someone else’s in exchange for a livelihood were two very different things. Unable to roam freely or hunt at will, forced to stay within narrow valleys while gazing out at the vast, untouchable forests, and burdened with heavy, monotonous farm work, the wolfpeople were growing weary. Frustration, and even discontent, was beginning to take root among them.

Most of the wolfpeople who survived that near-genocidal war were strong young adults. In their villages, they had rarely done this kind of work. To them, farming was only for the elderly who could no longer hunt or for the timid and mediocre. The idea of scraping a living from the soil was deeply humiliating and made their current lives unbearable.

The abundance of elders and warrior leaders exacerbated the situation. Naturally, these figures refused to do farm work, nor would they lower themselves to the level of ordinary civilians. Instead, they consumed a disproportionate amount of resources. To justify themselves, they shifted the blame to Orgrimmar, claiming it had failed to provide enough food and supplies.

Tensions gradually grew sharper.

This land was not theirs, and they knew they lacked the strength—or justification—to seize it from Orgrimmar. Thus, murmurs began to spread among them, urging the elders to consider alternatives. Some advocated moving further north, into the remote wilderness beyond the Tecks Mountains, to live freely and rebuild their kingdom. Others suggested sending scouts back to their homeland to see if the forces of Sentalus had finally left.

“The forests belong to us,” said those who held this view. 

“The Sentalus forces can’t stay on our land forever. They have no reason to. There’s nothing of value for them there.”

These two schools of thought were highly appealing to the younger wolfpeople. 

Young blood is quick to forget danger, preferring instead to focus on opportunity and dreams of the future. Dissatisfied with their current reality, they naturally yearned for change. However, for the older generation of wolfkin, potential dangers loomed larger in their minds than any promised rewards.

The Silvermoon Wolf Clan had already dwindled from tens of thousands to just a few thousand. If they faced another disaster like the last one, it would mean the end of Silver Moon forever.

A rumor soon began to spread among the younger wolfkin, eventually making its way to the warrior leaders and elders. Nobody knew exactly where the story had originated, but it was delivered with such conviction that it was hard not to believe.

The tale claimed that Tagraedi himself had instigated the entire Sentalus attack. He had attacked members of the Sentalus family under the guise of being a Silvermoon wolfkin, thus bringing disaster upon the clan. Then, posing as their savior, he had “rescued” the Silvermoon Wolf Clan, with the ultimate goal of swallowing the weakened clan into his own territory.

Even more extreme rumors began to circulate, alleging that Tagraedi had once sought to court Princess Nina. Such an outrageous proposal was naturally rejected, so he had supposedly concocted an elaborate scheme to devastate the Silvermoon Wolf Clan, forcing them to seek refuge under his control. According to the rumors, Miss Ram’s marriage to him was not her choice—it was a compromise, a result of Tagraedi once again making inappropriate demands of Princess Nina. Unable to refuse outright, the clan had offered Ram as a substitute to satisfy his desires.

The whispers claimed that Ram was being coerced into this union.

Moreover, as further revenge for Princess Nina’s rejection, Tagraedi had decided to take a lowly half-blood and a clueless catmaid as his wives alongside her, humiliating Silver Moon in the process.

Initially, few believed such claims. But as the wedding approached and more details of the ceremony were revealed, the rumors gained traction. An increasing number of wolfpeople became convinced of the story’s validity. Some radical young wolfmen even began planning to sabotage what they saw as a disgraceful wedding and rescue Miss Ram from her tragic fate. Their plans, however, were discovered, and they were swiftly subdued.

“Why do we keep living like this?” one frustrated young wolfman muttered, idly slicing a fallen branch with his knife. “Why should we endure this humiliation?”

“Why don’t you go ask the elders, then?” their squad leader snapped back irritably.

“The road to the north is supposedly blocked by the Osaga army, and our homeland is still occupied by the Sentalus,” another wolfman said. His tone wasn’t one of explanation but heavy with sarcasm.

“Lies, all of it!” a fourth wolfman spat angrily. “They’re just cowards! I’m not afraid! One day, I’ll slaughter every last one of those Sentalus bastards!”

“They’ve got hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions,” the squad leader said. “Enough griping. Let’s finish the job and head back in time to enjoy the wedding feast.”

“I’ve got no interest in that kind of feast,” the young wolfman muttered darkly. “It’s nothing but an insult.”

“That’s your business, but the job still needs to get done,” the leader replied. “On your feet, let’s move.”

The group pressed forward, and soon enough, they noticed faint traces of someone having passed through.

“Follow it!” the leader ordered. “Stay sharp!”

The ten-person team quickly got to work, tracking the trail until they found their targets in a mountain hollow. It was a group of ragged, disheveled wolfmen. At first, they panicked, but seeing that their pursuers were also wolfmen, they began to relax.

“Who are you?” the leader asked cautiously.

“Are you a local tribe?” the other group’s leader, an elderly wolfman, asked cautiously. 

His group consisted of nearly forty individuals, but only five or six were young men barely old enough to fight. Most of the group were women, elders, and children. “We’ve fled from the north. Please, we beg you, don’t harm us!”

“Where are your men?” the squad leader asked suspiciously.

“They all died along the way,” the old wolfman replied, his voice tinged with sorrow.

“What route did you take? Isn’t the north blocked by the Osaga forces?”

“We traveled along the desert’s edge the entire way.”

The squad leader asked a few more questions casually, but nothing seemed out of place. Finally, he asked, “Are you from Norwei?”

“Norwei?” the old wolfmen looked confused. “Is that a nearby tribe?”

“Captain!” one of the younger wolfmen, already impatient, interrupted. “Look at them, they’re pitiful. Let’s take them in.”

Among the wolfmen who had managed to escape the Sentalus slaughter, the majority were young and able-bodied males. The old, weak, and women had been mostly massacred. This disparity had exacerbated the current tensions among the Silver Moon wolves. But in this fleeing group, the imbalance was starkly different. There were far more women than men, and several of them were young and strikingly attractive. It was enough to make the hot-blooded young wolfman eye them with interest.

If they brought these refugees back, they could seize the chance to get close to them before the elders or leaders claimed them as their own, right?

The squad leader swallowed hard, then nodded.

“That one with the red streak in her hair, she’s mine. No one better try to take her,” he muttered under his breath.