Charles slowly opened his eyes and found himself trapped in an iron cage hanging in mid-air.

　　The bottom of the cage was secured with iron chains and heavy locks—escaping wouldn’t be easy.

　　In front of him, two male eagle-like creatures similar to Periya were drinking white beverages. Pieces of armor were scattered across their table.

　　One of them toyed with a whistle in his hand, while the other wore a gray hat with a mole pattern, giving him a somewhat comical appearance.

　　“Are you awake, big guy?” The one with the hat asked politely, then tossed a piece of cheese into the cage.

　　Charles bit it—and immediately regretted it. The taste was terrible.

　　“Is there anything more normal to eat?”

　　Periya heard the sound and threw two roasted rabbit legs into the cage.

　　“Thank you. What day is it?”

　　“It doesn’t matter. Focus on the previous question,” Periya replied.

　　“I have no choice, do I?” he said tactfully.

　　He could have pretended to cooperate and then found a chance to deal with the three birds. But he didn’t—The Poison Feather Society might have the intelligence he needed. Moreover, as a beastman, he was just as dissatisfied with humans.

　　The other eagle-person blew a whistle, letting out a piercing cheer.

　　“San En, you lost. Today, it’s your turn to prepare dinner.”

　　The one called San En pulled a stinky face and walked out without looking back.

　　“His appearance… is a bit ugly, to be honest.”

　　Charles’ companion laughed sharply.

　　“San En is one of the rare handsome eaglemen. You’re weird, Periya. Has he always been like this?”

　　“I can’t explain lizards,” she said, moving to the side of the cage to unlock the lower lock.

　　Charles drank his white beverage, eager to understand the situation.

　　It turned out he was still in Lalete, only a day’s distance from his home. The cave where he was held was spacious, enough for three people to live comfortably.

　　The eagle in front of him was Puning, one of the founders of The Poison Feather Society and leader of the three-person team. Their mission this time: General Ceray in the Lalete region.

　　When Charles wanted to learn more, Puning changed the subject.

　　When he realized the drink was bear milk, he rushed outside, leaning against a nearby tree to vomit.

　　Periya strolled out, “Okay, lizard, what do you want to do now?”

　　Charles took out his bolt and explained assertively that he didn’t want to wait for Thorne’s dinner.

　　He spent over an hour outside, hunting a spotted deer. Then came the simple steps: skin, cut meat, and build a fire.

　　Puning was pleased with Charles’ adaptability. During meals, he pulled out a map.

　　“This is the schedule and route map for Samp’s patrols. Based on my estimation, if we don’t act this month, we’ll have to wait another month and nine days. Time is running out—look carefully.”

　　Charles examined the map for a long time and asked, “Do we really need to do this? Have you considered leaving incriminating evidence and dragging Lylette to the brink of destruction? Also, there aren’t many lizards here, and I’m the biggest flaw in this plan.”

　　“So we need to lure him into the forest alone, then leave the rest to me and Periya.”

　　Charles finally understood why he had been approached:

　　His fighting ability.

　　His familiarity with the forest dwellers—more than the eagles’ knowledge of Lylette.

　　He was a convenient scapegoat for past failures.

　　If they failed, someone would blame Sergeant Sairye for trusting the “big lizard.” If successful, the three eagles would treat him as dinner.

　　He began to doubt the rumors that most eagles were stupid.

　　Let me think… perhaps I can come up with a perfect plan.

　　Two days later, at noon, he returned to the Big Green Frog Inn. Before that, he had stopped by Novi’s residence, standing silently under a tree to observe.

　　There were very few guests today—he was the second.

　　Upon entering, Laku warmly greeted him like an old friend and asked about his recent experiences.

　　Charles immediately sensed something was off. Was he bribed?

　　When Laku asked about his winged friends, Charles’ suspicion deepened.

　　The truth was slightly different from his imagination. Laku had been both bribed and threatened by Sairye. He could earn a huge reward by gathering intelligence, but refusal meant doom.

　　“Another Senpo?” Charles suppressed his anger.

　　“Why are you suddenly interested in winged people?” Laku asked innocently.

　　“Oh… it’s you. I heard a female eagle stayed in your cave all night. Didn’t know you were such a lizard who liked feathered females.”

　　“Pal, we should learn to try new things,” Charles replied seriously.

　　“Really? Where can we find them?”

　　“Beaconlin Forest. It takes time to tame them and is difficult. Don’t think about catching a female hawkman easily—she’ll tear off your scales, trust me.”

　　“How about yours? Is she docile? Can you introduce me?”

　　“Remember, tying a rope is key to subduing them,” Charles said firmly.

　　“They? Are there more? Can you take me there?” Laku asked eagerly.

　　Charles sipped his apple cider, relaxed his claws, and placed his arm on the table.

　　“Three gold coins.”

　　Previously, at Sairye’s place, Laku only received ten. He had spent four at an underground gambling den and had to give up the rest today.

　　After struggling, Laku reluctantly handed over three coins.

　　Charles smiled internally—this confirmed Laku had been bought by humans. Rare green-skinned people never bargained.

　　“Okay, how about two days later?” Charles proposed, giving Laku time to deliver the message and himself time to prepare.

　　Durdun, sharp as ever, sensed something strange. He brought two cups of wine over.

　　“Friends, I invite you to drink today.”

　　“What’s the occasion?” The two lizards spoke in unison.

　　“Only regrets. Our tribe is changing leaders, and I must return to Lebilon tomorrow.”

　　“Changing leaders? The former leader likely arranged everything. Is it worth it?” Laku asked skeptically.

　　“The new leader is my father. I must go back,” Durdun said.

　　Charles lowered his head. “It means you won’t return, right? No more fried frogs in the future… what a shame.”

　　“The new owner arrives next month.”

　　“Let’s hope his chef is good. Cheers, old friend, for your farewell.”

　　The three talked cheerfully, then went their separate ways.

　　Outside, Durdun gazed at the bright sun and tender green grass, reluctant to leave.

　　Thinking the humans might occupy this place and war could come here, he felt inexplicably sad.

　　“To achieve true peace, the orcs need a strong leader. Who will it be?”

　　After a long pause, he glanced back inside the inn calmly.

　　“Guys, pack our bags.”