Roland couldn't help but kick the soldiers who were staring wide-eyed at the piles of supplies, their faces lit up with excitement. The cramped quarters of Rapid City’s lord's castle were now overwhelmed with goods—20 carts worth, to be exact—leaving little room to move. Unable to find a proper warehouse in the city, Reynold and Carlos had chosen the lord's castle as a makeshift storage space, much to Roland's dismay.
"So, you're not going to give me an explanation?" Roland laughed, though his eyes were stern as he stared down Reynold and Carlos, who were attempting to sneak away unnoticed.
"My lord, there's been a misunderstanding..." Carlos stammered, his voice betraying the nervousness he felt.
"Uh, esteemed king, please let me explain..." Reynold hesitated, trying to find the right words.
"Misunderstanding? Explanation? You’ve even taken over where I sleep!" Roland barked, chasing them both down with a ham in hand, ready to make his displeasure known. The ham swung with the ferocity of a sword, and the two men fled, stars dancing in their vision from the blows they barely dodged.
"Hee hee, Sir Ladir, why is the king chasing after Lord Reynold and Lord Carlos?" Ivy asked with a chuckle, watching the spectacle unfold in the courtyard.
"Maybe because they forgot to leave him a bed," the old war mage Ladir replied, the wrinkles on his face forming a smile. He watched with amusement as the three men sprinted across the city. At his age, strenuous activity was a rarity, and deep magic often replaced the need for physical exertion.
"Hmm?" Ladir’s vast mental power swept across the land, detecting a group of refugees more than ten kilometers away being hunted by orcs. With a slight movement, he vanished from Ivy’s side in a flash.
"Wow, that was Flash!" Ivy gasped, awestruck. As a third-order priest, she had yet to master such high-level magic.
"God, who will save us?" cried the women and children among the refugees, their voices filled with despair as they faced the approaching orcs. They had thought they would be safe under Lagrand’s protection, only to find themselves cornered by a savage group.
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Several hunters among the refugees managed to hold off the orcs with their bows, but they were vastly outnumbered. The orcs, though smaller and less equipped than the main Orc Kingdom forces, were still a formidable threat.
Suddenly, with a thunderous crack, the ground beneath the orcs erupted with jagged spikes of rock, impaling them where they stood. Blood spattered the barren earth as the orcs were cut down in an instant.
"Ah!" The refugees recoiled in terror at the sudden carnage.
"Hey, hey! Are all the Lagrand survivors so timid now?" Ladir emerged from the shadows, smiling as he leaned on his staff.
"Sir Mage!" The men quickly recognized their savior and bowed deeply, showing their utmost respect to the noble mage.
"There's no need for formalities. You’re here to join the last King of Lagrand, aren't you?" Ladir noted the makeshift dragon flag the refugees bore, a symbol of their loyalty.
"Yes, my lord. We were guided by the gods to find Lagrand’s final glory," one of the hunters replied humbly.
"Well, you're only a few kilometers away from safety. Follow this direction; there’s no danger ahead," Ladir said, smiling before flashing away. His age prevented him from joining the refugees on foot, and though he could have escorted them with magic, his strength lay in guiding others, not in direct confrontation.
---
Meanwhile, a hundred Lagrand City Guards marched silently across the wasteland, their heavy armor clinking softly as they moved. Guided by divine purpose, they were making their way to Rapid City to join their king.
"Halt!" The lead guard suddenly raised his hand, signaling the others to form a circular formation. The soldiers locked their shields together, creating a wall of steel, their spears pointed outward, ready for battle.
"Half-orcs! Recently killed by an earth-type mage, probably second-order," reported one of the scouts after inspecting the scene of the recent battle.
"We need to move quickly. These orcs belong to a wasteland tribe; their kin will come searching soon," the lead guard analyzed, his voice tense.
"But there were civilians here too," another guard pointed out, noting the rough arrows embedded in the orcs—clearly not military issue, but the work of hunters.
"We can’t just abandon them to the orcs. They’re likely heading for Rapid City, just like us. If they veer off course, the orcs might catch them," the lead guard reasoned, his expression grim. The thought of leaving civilians to fend for themselves was unthinkable.
"Then what’s our plan?" another guard asked, concerned.
"We hold our ground here and stop the orcs. We’re the guards of Lagrand City, after all. Our duty is to protect the people," the lead guard declared, his voice filled with resolve. The pride of being a Lagrand City Guard surged through the ranks—they were the guardians of the empire, and they would not falter in their duty.
"In the name of Lagrand! Long live!" The guards roared their battle cry, preparing for the coming fight.
They quickly reformed their circular shield wall on a small rise, kneeling behind their shields, crossbows at the ready. Time passed slowly as they waited, their eyes scanning the horizon for movement.
Finally, the grass rustled in the distance, and the ugly heads of orcs began to emerge from the withered foliage.
"Fire!" The order was given, and the crossbows released their deadly bolts.
---
Ladir, resting after his brief excursion, sensed the guards clashing with the orcs. He smiled, knowing they could handle themselves.
"They'll be fine. Fighting off a few wasteland orcs is nothing for Lagrand’s finest," he murmured, settling back into his chair. It wasn't laziness, he assured himself—it was simply the confidence that the city guards could protect the people without his help.