They took their places around the massive table in the room. Their fathers abode reflected the duality of his personality. Bulk metal drawers of iron, the bedframe was equally boxy and massive, and weapon racks were filled to the brim with different types of weapons their father had mastered. His Maladroit, the massive hammer Magnus favored, rested alone next to a gigantic silver set of armor.

On the other hand, were all the soft carpets. The bed and pillows were made of feathers and soft cotton. Delicate vases of flowers and bright green plants around the heavy metal drawers. A massive mirror to the side. And the well-crafted dark brown, almost red, wood of the grand table in the center of it all.

Magnus sat on his throne chair. One of his servants poured him a cup of water.

Adrian’s plan was simple. Stay quiet unless he was forced to speak. There were to many nuances and habits he couldn’t possibly know or keep up from the original. He hoped his body would react without his input. Though he doubted it.

“Begin, Alaric.”

Alaric stood up. “Reports have arrived of multiple orc encroachments. Earlier than usual. Seven villages burned to the ground. Four more still stand. Haywater village,” his eyes rested on Adrian for a second. “It has remained in the best condition so far. Seven knights dead. Over nine-hundred soldiers and countless villagers and village militia members.”

Magnus took a small sip of the water. “What do you suggest we do, Alaric?”

“We cannot watch our territory burn. We must create roving patrols. Twenty,” he paused. “No. Thirty Knights each. To protect our constituents and land.”

“It would not be wise to let the orcs build momentum.” Magnus nodded.

“I don’t,” Beatrix said.

“Why not, sister?”

“If the reports are true, they’ll be fighting hundreds of orcs in open fields. Maybe if they plan according, within the forests. Both would advantage the orcs. We cannot afford more losses when the largest horde of my lifetime is right around the corner. The need for every able body should remain as our priority.”

“Well thought out, Little Bee. What do you suggest then?”

Alaric had taken his seat, thinking.

“I suggest setting up watch towers, or groups. They would see the enemy coming from great distances. The Knight order of the Hawk has exceptional scouts. Giving the villages forewarning to set up defenses or retreat to the nearest town fort strong enough to protect them. We have systems in place to accommodate the flux in numbers.”

Magnus nodded with a smile. “Yes. Knight Commander Diossius’s project. It saved quite a few lives compared to the old ways.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Beatrix’s chest puffed. A satisfied smile on her face. “We need just small readjustments. It will work perfectly.”

“And you, Adrian?” Magnus said. He placed his cup down.

All three turned to him. Their eyes burned with intensity. Adrian gulped surreptitiously. He thought for a moment. Then resolved himself to speak.

“Both ideas have merit,” he shrugged. Pointing at Alaric. “We cannot idly watch by as the orcs ravage our lands. Killing our people. Sterkhander’s are not cowards.”

Beatrix frowned deeply.

“On the other hand. We cannot waste the lives of our knights. Each one too valuable to fight battles we do not need to engage in—”

“Get to the point.” Alaric snapped.

Adrian stared at him for a few seconds. Surprised at the outburst. Alaric had never done something like that in the presence of their father. He was the perfect brother when Magnus Sterkhander was around. His dislike for Adrian seemed to have become more poignant lately. He wondered why.

But this was not the time for it.

Adrian’s plan had been simple to explain. Reminiscent of Vietnam. Against a force that outnumbered and outgunned them, it would be crazy to face them headfirst. A tactical guerrilla war would provide the largest outcomes with the least number of losses.

Add onto it that each knight was basically a extremely mobile tank and things as simple as hit and run turned into devastating plans. He could already imagine it. Burning a few tents or wagons down to attract their attention. The orcs riling up only to get flanked by thirty Knights with a head start to charge in, swords and Mark energy blazing.

As long there were no War Bosses. Or genius goblin to fix their tactics. Most raids and vanguards would not have enough strategic awareness to change their plans unless they were forced by larger, scarier things. The plan relied on orc nature to devastate their numbers. Their insatiable thirst for battle and lack of discipline.

“…focusing on eliminating any orc capable of strategy,” Adrian paused. He vividly remembered Halvard popping a goblin’s head like a ballon in their last outing. The image was stuck. “And goblins. Take out any goblin we see around their leaders.”

Beatrix was taken aback. “Goblins? The tiny gremlin goblins?”

Alaric was not so polite. “They are beneath our knights. To stain their swords on such worthless—"

“You’ve read, ‘Military Planning: Oddities and Goblins’,” Magnus laughed. “Good. Our libraries are filled with endless information. Recorded by knights that lived for thousands of years.”

Adrian did not respond. He had no clue that book even existed. Or what it entailed. All he used were the few moments of battle experience he had gone through not too long ago. But if his father was going to give him more credit than he deserved, who was he to not accept.

“Please explain, Father,” Beatrix was not smiling. The exact opposite.

Her and Alaric locked their attention on Magnus. Soaking every word, he was about to speak.

Magnus waved at Adrian. Picking up his cup of water and taking another sip.

Shit!

He hoped he didn’t mess up. This could turn from his father praising him to a quick reprimand. He knew Alaric would be happy to see it happen. Adrian took a deep breath.

“Goblins, sometimes. Not all the time,” Adrian mentally knocked his head. “They act as strategist or military minds behind raids or armies.”

“Yes,” Magnus continued. “The Year of the Swallow had been led by a goblin. Of course, none of the orcs would admit to it. Those impressive tactical applications of their strengths and shoring up of their weaknesses had been thought out by the little thing. I relished ripping its limbs one by one.”

Halvard had the same violent tendencies as his father. Did it have to do something with their rank? “There was a goblin at Haywater village. It had been guiding a very reluctant Raid chief. Knight Halvard killed it first.”

Magnus frowned. “Explain.”