"Know thyself, know thy enemy, and thy will find thyself ever the victor. Know thyself, but not the enemy, and fate decides the victor." - Ancient military proverb, unknown source.
"So, to recap what we know of the enemy," said the Graf after all the side matters were done. The Brewers and the Free Lances - as well as the matron's unit from the Legion - had their services retained for the duration of the campaign. The rest of the Legion's remnants wanted out, but understood the situation and agreed to help defend Fort Ascher until they had a way to retreat.
"We are dealing with mostly militia, yet their morale is not to be underestimated," reiterated the Graf as he pointed with his thick finger towards the roads the detachments had gone to. His fingers traced the various reported ambush spots, and the spots they assumed the missing units were ambushed at. "Estimated enemy force remained at ten thousand, and that is a conservative estimate. They are approximately two days behind our returning forces, so we could be seeing them as early as tomorrow."
"Anyone got an idea why these people are so… persistent?" asked the therian matron as she raised her meaty paw. "None of my folks speak their tongue, so we ain't got the slightest idea what they're yelling about."
"They're fanatics. Religious fanatics," answered Elfriede with disdain positively dripping from her voice. "For many of the less fortunate people here, the fucked up words of the God-King they love so much is their bloody sustenance. If he asks them to die, they'll do exactly that. With a smile on their faces no less."
"Yet you clearly do not share that viewpoint," remarked one of the dwarven commanders, the 6th's, if Reinhardt was not mistaken. "Are there any organized resistance of some sort we could get in touch with, perhaps?"
"Not out here in the boonies, no. Most of the village people here are the ones who drank deepest into the beliefs. I can't really speak for any of the other cities either, since I've never been there," replied Elfriede honestly. "If the underworld in Zefirous has not changed too much in the past twelve or so years, however, we might have some potential allies there."
"That's worth keeping in mind. Thank you," said the dwarf politely as she - her voice was a notably higher timbre than the rest, though Reinhardt could never tell the difference otherwise - scribbled on a piece of parchment.
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"At least that explains why the ambushes we faced were so varied in quantity," said the Graf as he contemplated the unfurled map. "All those empty villages on our way here, likely had gathered by the side and waited to strike the fort, while the villages ahead formed these ambush forces. The number of ambushers we all faced correlated directly with the number of villages in the route's vicinity."
"It was our mistake to have assumed that they were evacuated," admitted the dwarven commander of the 1st Regulars as he gave a bow in apology. He had served as the main strategist for the expedition thus far. "That has cost us far too much. I shall tender my resignation once this expedition is done, or else atone with my life."
"That can wait until later," said the Graf curtly. "Right now it is more important to focus on the here and now. We have around five thousand people we can devote to the fort's defenses. If those bastards come for us, they will bring at least twice, likely thrice or more of our numbers."
"While we know the main force from Knallgant would be on their way within the week, if they haven't already departed, that means we still need to weather at least two, likely three weeks on our own," he explained grimly. "We could try to cut and run, but that would be unlikely to succeed, unless we were to abandon our wounded."
Most everyone present shook their heads at those words. They had at least two thousand wounded between all their groups, and none of them were willing to give up on their wounded friends and comrades. The regulars would obey if commanded to do so, but that would crush all semblance of morale they had left.
"I figured as much," said the Graf with an understanding nod. "That pretty much leaves us with only one option. We hunker down in the fort and hope we can repel all comers until the main force arrives to relieve us. Everyone in agreement?"
A chorus of "Aye!"s answered the Graf, who looked at the gathered men and women with pride in his eyes.
"Very well. I will send messengers with the shift arrangements later. For today, all of you should rest as best you can and regain your strengths. The 9th and 10th will take the watch while you do," he said to the gathered commanders. "Dismissed. Have your people prepare as best they could for the upcoming battle."
As they left the mess hall, Reinhardt and Elfriede followed Mischka towards where her people camped. They had wanted to see the ones who would be working with them and hopefully arrange tactics between them.
When they met Mischka's people, however, they understood why she had called them her family back at the briefing, and what she had meant by saying they were mostly shock troopers.
Most of the eighty-two people present amongst Mischka's group either matched or exceeded Reinhardt in size, if not in height then in width. They were all huge individuals, their figures bursting with muscles. Even the weapons they practiced with were huge ones normal people would have trouble even lifting.
Over a quarter of the unit were literally part of Mischka's family. Five of them were her children, each with their respective spouses. Another twenty were her adult grandchildren. The unit itself was a mix of larger breeds of therians, dwarves, orcs, and humans, as well as half-breeds, but every single one of them were large in size for their race.
"As you can see, we ain't much for thinking," said the therian matron with a teeth-baring grin. "Just point us to whatever you need smashed, and we'll smash it right up~"