Bjorn activated his final [ShieldBearer] mark on the second line. Adrian activated both Mark abilities and charged forward with Ulf, Ivar, and Lief. Erik stayed on the frontlines with them, the other four retreated back into the second line to catch a break. Erik was the spearpoint and refused to be replaced. He was the next strongest after Halvard.
Adrian shoulder checked an orc that had jumped down from the barricade.
Lief, who was on his left, cut it down without hesitation.
Ulf, on Adrian’s right, kicked another orc backward.
Erik appeared behind it like a ghost, cutting its head off, before disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.
Ivar cut another orc in two that had slammed itself face first into Bjorn’s shield.
They wadded through the orc numbers making sure to dispose of every orc with a maximum of two strikes. They couldn’t afford them getting a foothold on their side of the funnel. This tenuous balance of savaging them for every inch they pushed the group back continued until they took a small foothold in the very front. The orcs pushed through forcing the recovering knights to step forward and continue the battle. They were being pressed backward by the sheer weight and number of the orcs before them.
Suddenly, the momentum of the orcs shifted. No longer did they push forward relentlessly, instead, the knights had begun to take the foothold back with devastating intent.
“It’s Knight Halvard!” Called one of the militiamen standing on the perch Ulf had used for the ballista.
Adrian stepped back, Leif and Ulf converged on his gap. He rushed up to the ballista and looked over the edge of the barricade. Halvard had struck the orcs from behind, an avalanche of blades and fury. He still wielded the former Raid Chief’s skull as a grotesque club driving fear into the orcs. Without a coordinated and united force, they stood no chance against him. Their numbers turned into a liability as panic spread through their ranks. They pushed each other out of the way to retreat back into the forest.
“Forward!” Adrian shouted from above. The knights charged through the remaining orcs on their side and then through the funnel. They cut down any retreating orc they could reach before they made it into the forest. It was a complete rout.
The militiamen began to cheer loudly. Hooting and hollering in joy. But the knights did not participate. This was only a raid. And yet, its numbers had exceeded anything Adrian or the older knights at their Houses fort had expected. The usual raid counted up to thirty or fourty at worst, not over a hundred.
But for now they had won. Adrian would not begrudge them this. A longer system notification appeared.
[CONGRATULATIONS!]
[BATTLE WON!]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 138 XP (115 ORC WARRIOR × 1.2 XP) COMMANDER EXPERIENCE]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 280 XP (8 ORC WARRIOR × 35 XP)]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 224 XP (3 ACHIEVEMENTS × VARIABLE XP)]
[FIRST TACTICAL...]
The skill progressions followed, each increment representing blood and victory.
[Mark Skills:
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Shadows: 393→399/1200
Shadow Strike: 145→149/1200
Strengthen: 33→33.5/500
Strengthened Strike: 174→174.1/500
Fortified Body: 89→89.3/500]
[Combat Skills:
Swordsmanship: 424→426/1000
Formation Fighting: 467→470/1000
Tactical Command: 156→163/300]
[Level Progress: 594→1236/2000]
Erik walked up to him, great helm under his arm. “Halvard went after the rest.”
Adrian nodded, his hands reached up to the clasps of his great-helm. He knew Erik wanted to say more, it was obvious in his face.
“He is too unpredictable, too quick to chase for glory. It is… concerning.”
Adrian took off his own great-helm. He took a deep breath, the stench of battle filled his lungs. His hair stuck to his face, slick with sweat. A cold breeze cooled his burning body. “He has a great hatred for the orcs. So long as he does not disobey an order, let him stretch his legs.”
“It is only a matter of time before he does, My Lord. We cannot contain him. He is too powerful.”
You cannot contain him. Adrian knew that was what Erik meant. And he was right. Adrian did not have an army of knights under his banner to prevent even the strongest of knights from going rogue on him. He was no powerful noble. Nor did he have a banner strong enough to call for such large numbers to fight under him. He was a young knight, under even thirty years of age.
“Until then, Erik.” Adrian sat down atop the ballista perch, looking away from Erik and towards the forest.
“Other brothers also have concerns.”
Adrian looked back up at him.
“–but I will answer their questions and soothe their worries, My Lord,” Erik slammed an armored fist onto his chest. “Though I have great distaste for how unwieldy Halvard is. I cannot attempt to act blind at the value he brings with such vast strength. Just be careful, My Lord. I’ve served you since childhood. I wish to continue my service for many centuries more.” With that he nodded and left. Leaving Adrian with his thoughts to stew.
Adrian watched from his elevated seat. His limbs suddenly felt heavier than anything he had ever experienced. He looked at his status and noticed only three Mark energy remained. He was depleted in many more ways than one. It left an unsettling void in his chest, one he assumed would fade as his physical and energy reserves replenished back to full. And yet, the sensation remained distinctly uncomfortable.
Below, groups of militiamen and villagers had begun to clear out the battlefield. They worked in teams to drag orc bodies, some with horses tied to tethers, and others with nothing but their bare hands. They stacked them in a massive pile outside of the dismantled barricades. The knights had already torn down a large portion of their ‘funnel’ trap to help facilitate movement revealing the full scope of the slaughter.
A pile for the orcs and another for the dead militiamen. Seventy-three had been lined up in rows for their families to identify and weep for them. Normal men that took arms against forces far beyond them just to save their families. Another forty-two were in the village square nursing injuries that varied from life threatening to minor scratches.
No knight had died. A few were bruised up, but that was the extent of it. Dents, gashes, and warps on their armor that would require extensive repairs. Another massive drain on the barony’s resources. No one said maintaining a force this strong was cheap, especially for their propensity for finding combat.
Adrian laughed as a few farmers had shown up attempting to negotiate with Markius and the other militiamen commanders for orc blood. The nauseating green ichor surprisingly made exceptional fertilizer, though their rapid decomposition into disgusting sludge if not used quickly meant the village would need to get to work quickly. It was a grim blessing, a cost for the vast number of lives lost every year to orc raids. They would take advantage of every little thing, no matter how macabre.
In contrast, his knights had sat aside, each one methodically cleaning weapons and armor from blood, viscera, and mud. Even after such extreme carnage, they had to maintain standards. It would not do well for the common folk to see their protector not look perfect. They had an image to uphold after all. An image that inspired hope.
He grunted as he stood up. “I might as well get started cleaning my–” he was interrupted with another bright notification.
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 138 XP (115 ORC WARRIOR × 1.2 XP) COMMANDER EXPERIENCE]
Another casualty of Halvard’s pursuit. Adrian doubted the knight would sleep until he got all of them.
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 138 XP (115 ORC WARRIOR × 1.2 XP) COMMANDER EXPERIENCE]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 138 XP (115 ORC WARRIOR × 1.2 XP) COMMANDER EXPERIENCE]
Four more appeared just as quickly.
Too bright!