Charlot immediately dismissed the thought of confronting the orc encampment.
Though the minotaur Samson had left, the three remaining Saint rank figures were still formidable. The lion-man Amisfida's strength was comparable to Samson’s, which meant he was on par with Earl Bretagne.
Perhaps Amisfida would show a slight disadvantage in a fight against Earl Bretagne, but to annihilate Charlot, Herolf the golden ram, and Tumisan would require no more effort than a slight adjustment in their techniques.
Would it make a difference to die in ten moves or twenty moves?
None whatsoever.
The lizardman Black Dragon and the silver-backed gorilla Choudrou were comparable in strength to Argon. In Charlot's mind, they were automatically categorized as being at the level of Menielman Soumet. If Menielman could come to their aid and pick off isolated enemies, they might succeed in taking down a Saint rank opponent. However, this risked provoking the wrath of Amisfida...
After much deliberation, Charlot finally said, “Let’s return to Dubrovnik first...”
But just as the words left his mouth, an idea struck Charlot’s mind like a bolt of lightning!
The flash of inspiration froze Charlot in place, turning him into a wooden statue, which made Herolf inwardly rejoice, thinking it was divine retribution against Charlot. Tumisan, on the other hand, was startled, unsure what had happened.
Charlot’s voice trembled as he asked, “Tumisan! The orc encampment... they don’t know we’re here, do they?”
Tumisan nodded, replying, “They shouldn’t know yet, but it won’t stay hidden for long. They’ll soon learn we’ve taken Dubrovnik.”
Charlot pressed further, “You’re an orc, right? And you’re acquainted with Amisfida, Black Dragon, and Choudrou?”
Tumisan, slightly surprised, answered, “Of course. Though we aren’t particularly close, we know each other.”
Charlot clapped his hands in excitement and said, “We now have twenty thousand orc warriors and you, Tumisan, the leader of the Orc Assassin Alliance. Essentially, we’re an orc army!”
“Why would the orc encampment attack us?”
Tumisan, struck by the revelation, felt as if lightning had struck his brain as well. He suddenly understood.
The orc encampment had no way of knowing that the Fars Empire had dispatched a knight order here. In the past, the West Wind Knight Order was mostly composed of humans. Once detected by the orc encampment, an attack was inevitable. But now, things were different. Dubrovnik was under Tumisan, a genuine Leopardman god, along with twenty thousand Labyrinth Guardians, over ninety percent of whom were orcs.
As long as Charlot remained out of sight and the five thousand West Wind knights were kept hidden, Dubrovnik would appear to be a city occupied by orcs. The orc encampment would have no reason to attack, at most sending someone to demand supplies.
Of course, none of those sent would return alive.
For orcs to attack Charlot would be as futile as throwing a meat bun at a dog.
Charlot burst into wild laughter. He had wavered between retreating and summoning Menielman, but now his hesitation was gone!
With an orc army and Tumisan the Leopardman, Charlot could relax and enjoy his honey-watered wine in peace.
As he gazed at the Red Dragon Strait, Charlot mused aloud, “This area is already at the ‘sea outlet,’ though calling it a ‘sea inlet’ might work too? After all, the Red Dragon Strait isn’t a river... geography isn’t really my forte.”
This was one of the widest points of the Red Dragon Strait. Charlot could have used the Swiftstep Technique to dash across, but he didn’t want the hassle. After some internal deliberation, he sighed inwardly. Neither Tumisan nor Herolf could compare to Menielman, Princess May, or even Sabastine in sophistication. After all, experiencing flight with a mature lady was a far cry from the clumsy feeling of their company.
Turning to Tumisan, Charlot said, “Master Tumisan, kindly take me back to Dubrovnik!”
The Leopardman had no choice but to scoop Charlot up and take flight.
Halfway there, Charlot spotted a fleet entering the Red Dragon Strait. Standing on the deck of a magical alchemy warship was none other than the pirate queen Sabastine.
“Put me on the bow of Sabastine’s ship!” Charlot said urgently.
Tumisan and Herolf landed on the magical alchemy warship one after the other. Sabastine, pleased to see Charlot, greeted him warmly. “Menielman is currently tangling with a Byron fleet and cannot come, so I came ahead to assist.”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “with this magical alchemy warship, I can protect you.”
Herolf glanced at the ship with bitterness. This magical alchemy warship had originally been his.
After Menielman captured the flagship of the Black Phoenix Dynasty fleet, she upgraded to a better magical alchemy warship and handed this one to Sabastine.
Herolf’s thoughts churned with resentment: Why wasn’t it divine retribution earlier? Why didn’t he fall lifeless when he stiffened like that?
“The gods are unjust, and the evil ones are incompetent!”
“Charlot, this scourge, why does he still live?”
“My ship... passed from one woman to another...”
Little did Herolf know, his beloved Queen Bee had already changed hands again, from Princess May to Sophia Gallanord. If he did, his heart would ache even more.
Charlot, meanwhile, eagerly shared the intelligence he had gleaned from Tumisan, explaining, “Although we have three Saint ranks, we cannot contend with the orc encampment directly. However, I’ve subdued twenty thousand orcs, and with Tumisan’s duplicity, we can pose as an orc army. There’s no need to worry excessively.”
Then Charlot mischievously suggested, “Sabastine, would you like to practice Beast God Transformation too?”
Sabastine smiled but declined. Charlot’s gaze seemed innocent enough, yet she couldn’t help but imagine him pleading with puppy-dog eyes: “Sister Sabastine, turn into a cat-girl for me today! Sister Sabastine, let’s try something new—turn into a bunny-girl! Sister Sabastine, I heard centaur girls are adorable; could you transform for me?”
Unable to suppress the ridiculous thought, Sabastine playfully smacked Charlot on the head. “Stop having inappropriate thoughts!”
Charlot blinked, bewildered. He hadn’t been thinking anything improper at all!
Unbeknownst to him, a parody novel titled The True Charlot Mecklenburg Chronicles had gained popularity. In it, the protagonist, also named Charlot Mecklenburg, had a shapeshifting maid who often transformed into various alluring beast-girl forms at his request. The author, fearful of legal repercussions, had written under a bizarre pseudonym.
As it happened, Sabastine had recently read this parody...