"Charge!" The knights of Los Saint Neil raised their lances and galloped forward to meet the oncoming half-orc wolf cavalry. Their lances, made from sturdy wood, splintered on impact—a necessity born from the poor resources of the Akvia Kingdom. Though inferior to steel, these one-use weapons were designed to shatter upon hitting their target, allowing knights to quickly switch to swords in the heat of battle.
Despite lacking the full armor and formations of more advanced knight orders, the charging Akvian knights were still a force to be reckoned with. The speed and weight of their charge were enough to crush the half-orcs in front of them, their lances splintering as wolf cavalry were sent tumbling underfoot.
"Boom!" The clash of wood against metal and the sickening crunch of bodies under iron hooves echoed across the battlefield. Half-orcs fell in waves, some trampled into the mud, their cries silenced as they were flattened by the charging knights.
If Roland had witnessed this, he might have scorned the knights' rudimentary equipment. The wooden lances, while effective in the first charge, left the knights vulnerable afterward. With no option to reload, they were forced to draw swords and continue the fight on foot. Steel lances, though expensive, allowed for more sustained combat. But such luxuries were beyond the means of the Akvia Kingdom.
"Keep formation and pursue, but don’t stray too far!" commanded Maple, the leading knight under King James, his voice calm amidst the chaos.
The knights charged with no regard for anything but the enemy in front of them. The battlefield was a whirlwind of flashing blades and blood. A knight's longsword sliced cleanly through the neck of a wolf cavalryman, blood spurting as the rider fell. The wolf itself snarled and leapt at the knight, but a quick sword thrust from another cut it down.
"Heavy slash!" one of the knights bellowed, his sword cleaving both rider and beast in one brutal stroke.
"Stop the pursuit!" Maple raised his blood-soaked sword, signaling the knights to halt. They had reached the edge of the dark forest—a place no wise knight would venture. The dense trees would limit their movements, making them easy prey for ambushes.
"Clean the battlefield and return!" Maple ordered, his eyes fixed on the ominous forest ahead, as though expecting it to swallow them whole at any moment.
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Around them, the battlefield was littered with dying orcs and wolves, some still writhing in their death throes. Knights moved among the fallen, finishing off the wounded with swift, merciless thrusts.
A young apprentice knight, narrowly avoiding death from a wounded wolf's desperate lunge, stood frozen as Maple swiftly decapitated the beast.
"Never let your guard down on the battlefield," Maple chastised as he flicked the blood from his sword.
"Thank you, sir!" the young knight stammered, drenched in sweat from his close call.
"Next time, be more careful. You won't always have someone to save you," Maple said coldly, turning away to inspect the field.
---
Back in the city, King James's mood was grim as he received news from the sole surviving cavalry captain.
"My entire cavalry... gone?" James's voice was low, his face dark with anger.
"They made it to the edge of the city unnoticed? How?" asked Novia, his hand resting on the hilt of his elven scimitar, eyes scanning the distant battlefield with the sharp vision of his kind.
"Azog is here," James said abruptly, turning to descend the city walls, preparing to ride out with what remained of his cavalry.
---
Outside the city, the great knight Maple approached James, his expression as solemn as ever. "Your Highness, those who can still fight are here. I refused to enter the forest to avoid ambush."
James kicked an orc corpse lying nearby. "What did you observe?"
"They're well-equipped. Stronger than expected," Maple replied, showing the dented shield on his arm, a sign of how hard the orcs fought.
"They’ve already started wiping out our scouts," James said, his tone darkening.
"Then it's only a matter of time before they come to the city," Maple agreed.
As Novia approached, taking in the grisly scene, he asked, "What's the situation, James?"
"The orcs are silencing our scouts. They don’t want us to know where they are. They’ll attack soon," James responded, mounting his horse.
"We need to notify King Roland. His support will be crucial," James said, looking across the river toward where Roland’s forces lay.
"Damn them!" Novia cursed. "They’re starting a war in the dead of winter?"
"It's not unexpected," James replied. "The north has already engaged in skirmishes with the orc forces, but they’re holding back, waiting for something."
"They’re waiting for the orcs of Dogordo to strike," James spat, frustration in his voice. His cavalry had been decimated—only forty out of one hundred remained. The loss weighed heavily on him, knowing they had only encountered a vanguard force.
Meanwhile, deeper within the dark forest, a massive army of orcs from Gombada, armed to the teeth, was silently advancing towards the Lonely Mountain. Their presence went unnoticed, bypassing elven defenses in the shadow of the trees.
---
Back in Roland's camp, the young king stood before Peter Gros, sighing as he heard the news.
"Heavy casualties?" Roland asked, though he already knew the answer. This was the reality for small kingdoms like theirs—they had no room for error. One lost battle could spell their end.
"King James was reckless, sending light cavalry into a forest. That was a fatal mistake," Roland muttered, knowing full well the consequences of such a blunder.
"That’s why we need your help, King Roland," Peter said, bowing humbly. He could already envision the fall of the coalition and the desolation that awaited his people without Roland’s aid.
"Keep an eye on the orcs. If they attack, the Lagrand Kingdom will stand with you," Roland reassured him, though his thoughts were clouded with the growing threat on all fronts. The real war had only just begun.