---
The air was thick with tension in the Orkish capital as news of the ambush spread like wildfire.
The Orkish King, renowned for his ruthlessness, was seething with rage in his grand hall, surrounded by his closest advisors and generals.
His fists clenched, the sound of bone grinding against bone echoing in the silence of the chamber.
The once-proud banners of his kingdom hung limply, a stark contrast to the fury radiating from their ruler.
"Who dares strike at my forces?!" the King bellowed, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.
The nobles around him shifted nervously, exchanging glances filled with fear.
They knew the wrath of their King all too well.
"Your Majesty," began one of the generals, a burly orc with a scarred face, "the attack on Lieutenant Gorak's convoy was orchestrated by the resistance.
