~ ~ ~ Victorian Kingdom POV ~ ~ ~
A figure fully clad in armor from head to toe, mounted on a four-legged beast, galloped towards the camp. Inside the camp was filled with rows upon rows of tents, all arranged in an orderly manner, with a massive, magnificent tent standing at the center. This grand tent exuded an aura of authority, clearly signaling, 'The leader resides here.'
The armored rider dismounted swiftly, pausing for just a moment to collect himself before striding toward the enormous central tent, clutching a scroll of parchment.
Inside the grand tent, the atmosphere was charged with palpable tension, yet order prevailed. A massive table, its surface strewn with maps and strategic markers, dominated the space. Around it stood several figures, each clad in distinctive armor that bore emblems, each distinct in their bearing, with emblems adorning their breastplates—some bore the fierce image of beasts, others winged creatures, trees, and others more.
These men were not mere soldiers; they were the veteran officers of the Victorian Kingdom’s military forces. Among them were battalion commander, company commanders, and platoon leaders, each responsible for the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of men. The structure of their forces was as disciplined as the men they led—each battalion comprising multiple companies, each company made up of several platoons, all ready to march into battle at a moment’s notice.
The armored messenger stepped forward, saluting sharply before handing the parchment to a distinguished old man, who was evidently the steward to the young man seated in a grand, ornately carved chair at the back of the tent. The steward, with the grace of long experience, delivered the scroll to the young man, whose armor outshone even that of the battalion commander.
The young man unrolled the parchment and read it in silence. The messenger, keenly observing, saw no flicker of emotion on his face as he passed the scroll to the battalion commander standing nearby, whose armor bore the emblem of a rose—a symbol of both beauty and deadly precision.
"Marquess Bolton’s private army will not arrive in time. We are to face the enemy without reinforcements," the Battalion Commander intoned gravely, rolling the parchment back up and handing it to the steward.
A heavy silence settled over the tent. The commanders exchanged glances, their faces betraying no fear but a deep understanding of the gravity of the situation. They knew what this meant—more than half of their soldiers would not return from the battle ahead. The losses would be catastrophic, the repercussions felt for years to come, but retreat was not an option. The time for doubt and hesitation had long passed. Silence reigned, thick and oppressive.
"Hmm. With that in mind, what is our contingency plan?" The young man’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Your Highness Morbius," the battalion commander stepped forward and began laying out the plan he and his officers agreed beforehand embarking on this expedition, "Our forces have already secured the strategic positions of 'Rock Soil Valley,' which will be the battleground as planned. Fortunately, they’ve already taken the key positions before the horde's arrival, giving us more time to fully utilize the terrain to our advantage in these upcoming battles."
He paused, gathering his thoughts. "According to our scouts, the enemy horde is on the move, but it has yet to reach its full strength. Only two-fifths of their expected numbers have gathered. More will undoubtedly join as they march towards us. This is why we chose not to retreat to Marquess Bolton’s fortress. If we did, the horde would likely reach full strength by the time they caught up, forcing us to fight them in unfavorable terrain, leading to our soldiers’ inevitable annihilation. Therefore, we decided to advance and face them at 'Rock Soil Valley,' where their numbers are still manageable."
"The key to this battle," the commander continued, "Is to swiftly and decisively crush the enemy before the rest of their forces arrive. We must strike hard and fast, giving more time regroup and reorganize our formations, and prepare for the next wave. The faster we deal with them, the more time our soldiers will have to rest and recover their strength."
"Impressive war plan, Commander Fabulous. Can you guarantee that we’ll defeat the upcoming horde and ensure my safety?" the young man asked.
Commander Fabulous nodded confidently. "With my life and honor, Your Highness. Your safety is our utmost priority. It has already been arranged for you to travel smoothly to Marquess Bolton’s fortress. I will personally lead the soldiers at 'Rock Soil Valley' and ensure a massacre befalls these vermin."
The young man finally smiled. "Since I can see that you’re so confident, Commander Fabulous, I feel reassured. But I would like to witness the battle first hand myself."
Commander Fabulous and the other commanders were taken aback by this.
"Your Highness," Commander Fabulous began cautiously, "while I am confident in our victory, the horde’s ferocity and bloodlust should not be underestimated. Countless variables can arise in battle. I strongly urge your Highness to prioritize your safety above all else."
"There is no need for concern, Commander," the young man replied with a wave of his hand. "I simply wish to witness the first battle and see the ferocity of these vermin with my own eyes. After that, I’ll retreat to Marquess Bolton’s fortress, rally the border troops, and return with reinforcements."
Commander Fabulous had no choice but to yield, lest the situation further deviate from their war plan. "As you wish, Your Highness. You shall witness firsthand the kingdom’s finest soldiers, their valor, and their combat prowess as they annihilate the enemy. The Vanguard Legion will hold the line until the last man, and the brave Shock Legion and skilled Ranger Legion will join them. Together, these Legions have secured our kingdom’s reputation and the safety of our borders."
"Very well," His Highness Morbius said, rising from his chair. "Finalize the preparations and proceed as planned. At dawn, we ride."
"Yes, Your Highness!" the commander and his subordinates responded in unison.
------
The following day, at dawn.
The dawn of battle brought with it a cacophony of sound—the creaking of rusty cart wheels, the clanging of metal armor, the barked orders of officers, the crackle of campfires, and the restless neighing of horses. The valley was alive with activity, every man and beast on edge as they prepared for the coming fight.
Soldiers huddled close to any source of warmth, eating their morning meals. Some were sharpening their blades, while others carefully checked the arrows in their quivers. A group of heavily armored men on horseback gathered around a figure whose commanding presence outshone all others.
Commander Fabulous, a man who had earned his rank through years of relentless combat and bloodshed, exuded calm authority. His very demeanor was a testament to his experience—a leader who had faced death countless times and emerged victorious. As he inspected the troops, he ensured that every detail was in order, knowing that even the smallest oversight could lead to disaster.
"Company Captains, have your troops in position," Commander Fabulous ordered, his voice carrying across the camp. "Our scouts report that the enemy horde will be upon us in a few hours. Make sure your men are ready—this will be a long and brutal day."
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
"Yes, Commander!" came the unified response of thirty voices.
Turning to the middle-aged man beside him, Commander Fabulous inquired, "What’s the current status of His Highness’ soldiers, Jack?"
"Commander, I’ve personally inspected the platoons and have spoken with their platoon leaders in each company as well as with the Company Captains. We have over 17,000 Heavy Vanguard Legionnaires, 23,000 Shock Troop Legionnaires, 15,000 Ranger Legionnaires, 12,000 Supply Militia, and 5,000 Light Cavalry."
"Good. Have the Light Cavalry Captain on standby to protect His Highness and deal with any stragglers."
"Orders received, Commander!" one of the officers saluted, then rode off to relay the message.
"Ensure the Supply Militia is geared up and prepared to reinforce any breaches," Fabulous continued.
"Commander, I’ve already instructed the platoon leaders of the Supply Militia to be on high alert, and preparedness for the upcoming battle," Vice-Commander Jack responded.
"Excellent. Jack, you’ll oversee the left flank and take command if needed," Fabulous instructed, his eyes scanning the horizon as he observed the soldiers forming their battle formations.
"Yes, Commander," Jack replied.
"And send more scouts to that hill. I want eyes on every part of it. Tell John to update me on any new intelligence without delay."
"Yes, Commander!"
With his orders given, the company leaders returned to their units for final inspections. Fabulous took one last look at his troops, their ranks forming up with disciplined precision, before turning his gaze toward the seemingly endless forest ahead. He knew the enemy lay hidden within, waiting to unleash their fury.
------
Commander Fabulous made his way to the command tent, where His Highness Morbius awaited.
"Your Highness!" he saluted, standing at attention. "The troops are ready. Everything is in place for the battle ahead."
Morbius rose to his feet, clapping his hands in satisfaction. "Excellent! Phil, fetch my armor. Commander, I will join you on the battlefield."
"It would be my honor, Your Highness," Fabulous replied, though he couldn’t suppress a flicker of concern.
Some time has passed.
Time passed as Morbius donned his ornate armor. Though its elaborate design and intricate embellishments might raise questions about its practicality, the armor was intended to project authority and command respect. It suited a leader who would oversee the battle, inspiring his men with his presence. Despite its decorative nature, the armor carried an aura of power, fitting for a prince who was as capable as he was ambitious, while looking smug, awesome, and useless. Of course, 'useless' is the silent word.
Though some might find the armor impractical, Commander Fabulous couldn’t help but respect the noble aura emanating from the young man. The young man also radiates confidence—not from promised victory, the prowess of his men, or his safety, but from his own ability and talent. He was no mere figurehead; he was every bit as capable as any soldier on the field.
"Your Highness!" Commander Fabulous saluted again.
"Hmm, I’m ready, Commander. Let’s join our men."
With a nod from the prince, Commander Fabulous led him out of the tent. As they mounted their horses, a mud-covered scout burst into the camp, dismounting quickly to deliver his report.
"Your Highness, Commander Fabulous, the lead scouts have spotted the Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and they’re heading our way. It is estimated that some of the Orcs will reach the end of the forest in half an hour. End of report!"
"Return to your post," Commander Fabulous ordered. Turning to the prince, he said, "Your Highness," but the prince simply nodded. Both men spurred their horses, heading towards the rear of the formation.
As they reached the rear, Orcs began emerging from the forest. A tense atmosphere spread through the ranks as more and more Orcs gathered at the forest's borders, oddly refraining from an immediate attack.
"Commander, I thought Orcs were bloodthirsty creatures that charged into battle without hesitation," the prince remarked.
"That’s true, Your Highness. But within every horde, there’s a leader—a Warlord," Commander Fabulous explained. "These Warlords can organize the Orcs to a degree, paired with their innate strengths making them more dangerous. While they aren’t as disciplined as our troops, incapable of forming a formation, they’re capable of receiving and following orders in the midst chaotic battle at any given moment. Until the Warlord is killed, the Orcs will continue to fight under its influence."
"Thankfully, though these Warlords are by far more dangerous and cunning than the average Orcs, they aren't that far a head. Their strategies are still simple, to brute force on every obstacle."
"Your Highness, once the chaos unfolds, our utmost priority is to keep an eye out for the Warlords' position and take the vermin down."
"Hmm, impressive Commander, so once the Warlord is spotted, you will dispatch soldiers to deal with it, thus breaking the horde?"
"Not exactly, Your Highness. These Warlords often stay at the rear, surrounded by their warriors. Sending troops to kill the Warlord would likely result in their being overwhelmed. Even if they reach the Warlord, it’s a formidable foe—stronger and more skilled than the average Orc."
"So, a bloodbath is unavoidable," the prince concluded.
"Unfortunately, yes, Your Highness. The best strategy is to thin out the horde before sending in a specialized unit to deal with the Warlord."
"But Commander, seeing as the Orcs aren't charging forward, and are just gathering, won’t they become too numerous to manage if we don’t engage them soon?" The prince asked in concern.
"No, Your Highness. I’ve faced many hordes in my career. Although the Orcs are waiting under their Warlord’s orders, they’re still Orcs—driven by their savage nature. We just need to provoke them, and they’ll charge. The Warlord isn't close enough to regain control and issue another order. Once the horde reaches a certain size, we’ll initiate the battle.
"Ah, Commander, your reputation for wisdom and knowledge is well-deserved. I’m glad I’m here to learn from you today."
"You flatter me, Your Highness," Commander Fabulous replied with a smile and a salute.
As they continued talking, more Orcs emerged from the forest, swelling the ranks of the horde.
"Look at them," the prince sneered. "Crude leather for protection, weapons made of wood and bone—can you even call those 'iron weapon' weapons?" He then spotted something that shocked him. "One of them doesn't even have a single piece of protection, not even a single cloth, wielding only a pair of axes. Fully naked for the upcoming battle, unbelievable! Truly a vermin, I'm surprised they haven't gone extinct yet."
"Hahaha, your Highness, the Orcs have surprisingly high reproductive ability. You'd be surprised to know that most of these Orcs that you're seeing aren't even 2 or 3 years old."
"That young?" The prince was astonished. "I'm even more surprised they haven't taken over the world with their innate strength and numbers."
"It is mostly due to in-fighting your Highness." He continued. "For every Warlord there is, they have to be baptized in the blood of every potential Warlord. Most hordes would inevitably face another Horde and would fight to the death; rarely such hordes would work together. And if one Horde were to be victorious than the other and remain unchallenged, it would then lead its Horde to the nearest border kingdoms, where the horde would then face total annihilation, and thus this cycle repeats. Albeit there had been cases where kingdoms were destroyed by such horde, though most believe their destruction was not because of the Horde's strength but the kingdom was in declined, decaying within."
As the commander and the prince continued to talk, Horde finally reached the threshold to proceed with the plan.
"Your Highness, it's time."
"Alright, Commander, you may begin."
Nodding, Commander Fabulous raised his arm, signaling the flagmen. They waved colored flags in a precise pattern, and soon the sound of horns and drums echoed across the battlefield. A moment later, a ‘whoosh’ filled the air as thousands of arrows were released, darkening the sky like an eclipse.
In the midst of such chaos and war cries, one distinct sound could be heard from the Horde.
"THIS ISN'T MY CANON AT ALL!''