Chapter 48: The First Battle Begins

“Well, you’re not dead.” Len notes. “I suppose it wouldn’t be inaccurate to suppose that things went alright, then?”

“More or less.” I nod. “They’re somewhat of a mixed bag, the orcs. Some of them are arrogant and overbearing, didn’t like outsiders being there at all. Some are more accepting of changes and understand things better, mostly the older ones… Older and wiser, I guess. A lot of them aren’t too bright, either. Their leader is something different, though. His words are practically treated like gospel by the rest of the orcs.”

“They worship him?” Len raises an eyebrow.

“No, not worship… More like extreme respect. All of them believe that he’ll have a solution to basically any problem they come across, and I doubt anyone would disagree with anything he says.” I explain.

Len’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Almost sounds like they’re completely dependent on him… That’s not always the best idea.”

“Sure, but from what I’ve seen he is the best person for the role, and as a leader having people believe in your competence is a good thing.” I shrug. “Having said that, he isn’t young. Hope he’s grooming a replacement for himself.”

“Yes, yes, well enough about their leader.” Len waves a hand. “Tell me more about their city, their culture, everything.”

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As we sit down in the afternoon to discuss things, Ren pops out of the back door holding a tray of mugs, and a herbal scent wafts over as he approaches.

“Tea?” I ask the halfling alchemist.

Ren nods, handing me one. “Yes, and I’d appreciate some feedback on the brew. I’ve been experimenting with different blends in my downtime, and this is my most recent attempt.”

I take a sip, enjoying the simple comfort of a warm drink. “I shouldn’t be worried, should I?” I joke.

“Of course not, my detoxification process is extremely thorough.” Ren says proudly. “Even if an ant were to drink the entire pot, it still wouldn’t have any adverse effects – well, apart from those that would come from drinking thousands of times its volume in water.”

“Detoxification?” Heather voices curiously.

“The removal of toxic substances or elements from something, basically.” I explain simply.

Heather eyes the mug. “This has things that were poisonous in it?”

“Aye. Important thing is that they ain’t poison anymore.” Jakin takes a sip, then another. “Ren’s the good sort. How all the stuff he does works is beyond me, but if he says it’s safe, I believe him.”

Seeing everyone else drinking, Heather gives it a cautious sip as well.

“So…” Jakin rolls his shoulders. “Question on the table is do we fight or not? Assuming there will be a fight, tha’ is.”

“The general feeling I got from everyone last time is that we’re leaning towards fighting.” I note. “Anything people want to add that wasn’t said then?”

“Their chief is one of the few people left who was friends with my father.” Heather says sadly. “I don’t want to lose that.”

There is a moment of silence, and we each nod slightly to her to show our understanding and appreciation.

“On a more military note, the fortifications of Ra’tlub are significantly better than ours here. Each of us would do better on their walls, not to mention most of us can attack at range… Putting it bluntly, if we were attacked here by the goblins, and they came in force, we’d have no option but to retreat.” Jakin explains, rubbing his thick neck.

“We still have a good stock of bolts, right?” I ask. We’ve been retrieving the bolts the few times we actually use the crossbows, so apart from a few that have broken, we’ve got about the same amount as we got in the first place.

“Dozens, but I can’t help but think that might not be enough.” Xiltroth shrugs. “If it ends up being a prolonged battle, and we aren’t able to retrieve any, we’re going to end up running out no matter how careful we are with our shots.”

Heather tilts her head. “Why not just make more?”

“Our bolts have heads of tempered steel – we have not the resources, tools nor means with which to forge such things. What we’ve got is all we have.” Jakin sighs.

I consider, shaking my head slowly. “No, Heather’s right. We can’t make more steel bolts, but we should be able to make wooden ones. They won’t be effective against tough monster hides or armour, but we’re fighting goblins. Even wood should suffice, with the force of a crossbow behind it.”

“…He’s not wrong.” Boaz shrugs at his twin.

“Aye, true enough.” Jakin grunts. “Still, we’ll have to test beforehand that wooden bolts work well enough.”

“We can do that.” I nod. “Heather, can you do the fletching for them? We should be able to whittle the shafts and tips just fine, but I haven’t a clue how to attach the feathers.”

Heather nods. “Of course.”

“Then I suppose the question is, how long do we have to prepare? We need to make sure we get back before the goblins do – assuming they’re coming immediately, or at all.” My eyebrows furrow.

“Hard teh say.” Jakin grimaces. “Takes time for an army to move. They need to transport food, equipment, ammunition, and none of that’s fast… But that’s fer normal armies, not monsters. Hard teh say how they think, how they’ll act. Could be rushing towards Ra’tlub howling their little green heads off as we speak.”

“Great, so no clue.” I nod. “If I had to guess, I’d say they aren’t doing that. Madmen and idiots don’t build cities. Still, Ra’tlub isn’t far from the goblin city. Best to be quick. We should get what we need here, head back to camp, and head off before midday tomorrow. If we’re early, I’m sure we can find something constructive to do.”

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As we enter the western orcish village on our way through to Ra’tlub, I can’t help but notice that the place is rather quiet compared to the last times we came through. There are still people around, but there are no kids playing in the street, and everyone seems to be hurrying about their business, casting eyes towards the alleyways as they pass. Even the livestock… No, they’re just as aggressive as ever.

For another thing – Utak isn’t around.

While passing one of the orcs, I can’t help but ask, “Did something happen? Everyone seems… Tense.”

He starts slightly from being addressed, but replies all the same, “North village, got destroyed. Goblins. Big Chief called most guards to Ra’tlub.”

“I see… I’m sorry to hear that.” My teeth clench. It’s happening after all. If the goblins launch a full assault on Ra’tlub, it’ll be on a scale far beyond anything I’ve been a part of or seen before. I don’t know what to expect.

“Let’s get moving, then.”

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We arrive at Ra’tlub before the goblins, at least. We were due a bit of a break.

We’re let in without any trouble. Every orc we pass on the street is carrying a weapon or has one close at hand. It’s clear that everyone is preparing for war. As we make our way to Greta’s inn, I see near every emotion on the spectrum among the warriors. Excitement and bloodlust for the biggest fight of their lives. Sadness at the fate of those unable to escape the northern village, and rage towards those who caused it. Fear, veiled behind bravado and drinks. Stoic determination. Despair.

But near all of them seem eager for the fight. A man leaning against the corner of a house tests the hone of his axe with a thumb absent-mindedly as he stares into nowhere, a menacing smile splitting his face. The woman swinging a club as she walks down the street, forcing everyone to give her a wide berth. A couple of guys punching each other and psyching themselves up over drinks.

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“How long you staying this time?” Greta greets us with a nod.

“Not sure. Until they get here - The goblins.” I clarify in response to her raised brow.

Greta nods. “You fight, then?”

“That’s what we decided, yeah.” I confirm.

“You fight with us, you stay for free until fight is done.” Greta asserts. “After fight, you owe favour. Got it?”

My eyebrow raises in surprise, but I nod gratefully. “Got it. Thanks Greta.”

Greta grunts. “Thank me by killing goblins with me.”

“You’re fighting as well?” I ask, my other eyebrow raising.

Greta nods across the bar to a wall display where a massive ivory sword is mounted. “Been years… But battle’s in our blood. Time comes, everyone fights.”

“I’ve seen you handle rowdy orcs.” I say with a shrug. “I’m sure you’ll slaughter mere goblins.”

Smirking, Greta waves me away and gets back to managing the bar.

“May as well have a drink while we’re here.” The twins break into a smile at my words.

“OI!” I look over to see Greg raising a mug to us from a lonely table. “Room for some more if you’re drinking!”

I shake my head with a smile. Greg’s still here too, huh? “Might just take you up on that then!” I call back as we make our way over.

“Wasn’t sure I’d be seeing you here.” He nods as we sit down. “You guys have your own camp somewhere out there, yeah?”

I motion to Greta to bring us some drinks.

“A real nice one!” Jakin boasts. “Log houses, walls, even a spike moat. We’d have diverted the river to fill it up, but well, none of us are sure what you might be needin’ to do for a water moat to work proper, so we decided not to risk it.”

“Pretty good for something we whipped together on our own. But hardly worth much against a goblin horde.” I shrug, handing over a string of wild fowl to Greta as payment for our drinks and food for the night. “This is our best bet. How bout you?”

“I left the five kingdoms because I didn’t believe the war I was fighting for. It’s much simpler this time. No politics or hidden agendas. It’s fight to survive – and that’s it. If anything it reminds me of Ginerbe.” Greg stares into his mug, and the twins and I nod gravely as we think back to that terrible day.

The werewolf pack tore through the city that night. Who knows how many people died? Even those who survived, who had more than the clothes on their backs to their names? If the same happens here, the orcs could be even worse off. There’s no other city for survivors to go to. Nowhere that’s safe for them. No allies.

“I’m a lot stronger than I was back then. This time I hope to make a difference. Fight. Win.” Greg sighs and takes a gulp of beer. “Why is there suddenly war everywhere? Before we, our generation, there was peace right? Might’ve been shaky, but no war at least. Peace in the five kingdoms, peace here, now everywhere at once…”

“I’ll drink teh that.” Jakin raises the mug that was just placed in front of him in a toast both to Greg’s sentiment and Greta for bringing the drink. “Mercenary bands must be getting rich these days.”

“If they aren’t getting killed.” Boaz completes Jakin’s notion with the grim reality.

“Aye, there’s that.” Jakin agrees. “But mercenaries be expectin’ it, I’d say. ‘S what they signed on for. Adventurers you hire to kill monsters. Bandits, maybe. Mercenaries you hire to fight people. Battles, sieges. Nobody going into that business that hasn’t made their peace with the possibility of death.”

There is a chorus of agreeing noises, and we take some more sips of our drinks.

“Do you happen to know what defences are being prepared?” I look to Greg. “Ammunition, boiling oil and the like.”

“Ammunition…” Greg scratches his cheek. “Well, from what I hear there aren’t many bows around here, nor people trained with them. What little there is, is probably prepared, though. As for boiling oil, I doubt they have much of the like. Plus, with wooden walls, fire is one of the things they’re worried most about. For the most part, they’re gathering stones to throw. Once those run out… Knowing the orcs, well, I hope it won’t happen but I wouldn’t put it past them to just jump down and fight.”

Jakin spits out his drink. “Jump down? From a reinforced position? To fight hand to hand!? That’s the stupidest thumpin’ thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Putting it bluntly, though, orcs aren’t the sharpest knives in the block. And Greg’s had more interaction with them than we have. If he had that thought, it might be possible.” Xiltroth says quietly.

“It’s just a feeling I have. The orcs… They take the idea of a full-scale war seriously. But at the same time, they don’t take goblins seriously at all. Something inside me just thinks some of them are going to do something stupid, and mob mentality might mean the rest of them will just follow suit.” Greg shakes his head.

I nod slightly. “Maybe we could bring it up with the big chief. If we were to try and do something ourselves, they won’t listen, but they’ll listen to him.”

“How’re yeh gonna bring that up?” Jakin asks. “Oh chief, we’re worried your people’re stupid enough to give up a major strategic advantage, reckon you could put in a word?”

I shrug helplessly. “Would you rather risk losing this war to something that stupid?”

“Point taken.”

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The time comes a couple days later. We aren’t privy to the specifics, but we hear that forward scouts had spotted the approaching army not too far out. Where specifically, the numbers, and how long it might be, we don’t know. But considering that all forces are standing at the ready… It should be soon.

I look out over the land from the wall I stand atop, seeing nothing but grass, the occasional tree and a few roaming monsters. Not that I would be able to see much from here. They should be approaching from the north, and we’re on the western wall.

The majority of our forces seem to be concentrated at the north, both because the enemy is expected to arrive there, and because that’s where the main gate is situated. Fearing the consequences if a fire should start on the wall, it’s been doused with water a few times over the past days. By no means is it fireproof now, but it should be harder to set alight at least.

In terms of our team’s own preparations, we have a few small crates full of bolts ready and waiting by our feet. Xiltroth gave our crossbows one last check over just in case, and Heather’s quiver is chock full of arrows as well. Now, all we can do is wait.

Greg is here. It feels strange, standing next to him, talking to him… I don’t like to lie. I hope one day I can tell him – no, all of them – the truth.

Utak stands not far away, as well. When I asked, assuming it wasn’t coincidence, he said that the big chief had told him to stay near us. Whether that’s because he distrusts us, or for some other reason… I don’t know.

Boaz frowns at the wall as it creaks under the collective weights of the warriors and supplies here. It doesn’t show any signs of breaking or caving, but I can’t help but wince at the sound nonetheless. Jakin sits, his breathing measured as he waits, occasionally peering over the battlements to scan the landscape.

Xiltroth meditates next to them, his face twitching every now and then at loud noises or conversation. The twins’ shields are set up side by side, providing a modicum more cover for the larger frame of Heather, who can’t do much more than sit down to reduce the portion of her body above the edge of the battlements. Greg looks maybe a little pale, one hand gripping the wall and the other resting on his grimoire, eyes darting back and forth.

And then there’s me, calm and collected enough to be just looking over them all casually. I wonder if I was a warrior or soldier in a past life, used to seeing battles and death. I should be… I don’t know. Maybe excited. Maybe afraid. Panicking, eager to fight. But instead I feel detached. Perhaps there is more I could have done to prepare. Perhaps different choices would have led to a better road. But the die is cast – and somehow, I can accept that. Just like that.

And face forwards without regret.

Clouds drift overhead as we wait. The tension in the air is almost palpable. A distant roar rises from the northern wall, and the orcs around us roar in response, causing me to let out a curse that is completely drowned out in the cacophony as I clap my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to reduce the noise.

The next moment all the orcs start to run along the wall. In a split second I recognise and grab the arm of Utak, pulling him towards me and shouting to make myself heard over the yelling, “Where the hell are you going!?”

“Fight is at the front!” He yells in reply.

“The hell do you mean!?” I shout. “If everyone goes there, what the hell do you think will happen if this wall gets attacked!? I’ll tell you what, they’ll come straight over the walls and we’ll all fucking die!”

Utak stops trying to pull his arm out of my grasp, his expression almost looking like he’d been slapped.

“Why did all of yeh even come here in the first place if yeh were just gonna be running somewhere else?” Jakin shakes his head in despair. “If it were just to keep watch, just a few men would’ve done. Damn it, If I were in charge I’d be cracking skulls right now.”

“I…” Utak looks almost like he’s about to cry.

Xiltroth puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles painedly, trying to be reassuring despite being halfway to rage himself. “They’re not angry at you, Utak. We just… Hoped for more. There might not be a way for us to escape from this battle, and our chances of victory just dipped.”

“Dived, more like.” Jakin scowls.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to center myself. When I open my eyes, the wall has almost emptied. I turn around and look out over the plains – still nothing in sight. I open my mouth and speak evenly, “This isn’t helping. What’s done is done, now we need to deal with it. Clearly, we can’t expect the orks to move for anything less than a direct and obvious threat to the city. Utak. The moment we see enemies, I need you to run as fast as you can to the north wall and get reinforcements. Do whatever you have to. If this wall is breached, the city is lost.”

Utak nods numbly.

“The east wall is probably in a similar situation. Maybe worse. We need people over there. Xiltroth, Heather, Greg, you’re our fastest. Greg, I hope you have some sway with the orks.”

Greg shakes his head. “Not really, but I’ll make it work.”

“The south wall… I doubt they’re able to assault from down or across the river with this little preparation time, but keep an eye on it if you can. If we have to flee…” I hesitate. Is there even a good place to run to?

“East, to the desert.” Greg supplies. “If you don’t have a better idea. I know some people there, we’ll be able to survive. Goblins aren’t acclimated to that environment, we’d be safe from them at the very least.”

I nod. “East. If any of you die, I’m going to find your souls and beat your asses in the afterlife, you hear me?”

Everyone nods, and the three of them move out.

The wall is now empty, save the four of us: Utak, Jakin, Boaz, Me. Not enough to give an army even a second’s pause. Our only saving grace is that this is a hasty war. If they had waited to dig under the walls or build boats, this probably would’ve been over before it had even begun.

Not to belittle the orks. I’ve no doubt that however this goes they’ll bloody their enemies. I just wish they understood there’s more to war than throwing everything you’ve got in one direction.

Taking a few steps and stooping down, I heft one of the stones prepared for the battle before placing it back on its pile; one of many left without people to throw them. Well, there’s one among the orks with some smarts. Hope their chief is able to manage this situation.

At this point, hope is pretty much all we’ve got.