They gathered in front of the small village manor. It was a building that fit normal men quite well, large by their means at four stories high and made of large stone and wood. But for the knights it was a source of anxiety. Their massive weight would collapse the ground they stood on if there were any lower floors. Doors were uncomfortably small. Furniture not meant for their size and weight. Not suitable for them at all.

Three of the village militiamen commanders and ten Knights. The knights had only suffered a single casualty, the militiamen did not fare as well. Nearly a hundred and fifty men and women had died protecting their family with ineffectual spears. Crossbows were simply not strong enough to punch through an Orc’s thick leathery hide, and even if it did, it would take twenty or more to bring them down. A waste of both resources and energy.

Only three hundred and some change left of the militia remained.

A single ballista also was in serviceable condition, the other had been crushed under the weight of a charging Orc. That was strong enough to rip right through their enemy with little effort, even if they were clad in armor. A well taken shot could kill an orc from a distance. The issue of ammo remained, with only seven more ballista bolts left. They couldn’t let a militiaman wield it when they had knights that were far more accurate and deadly with it.

“We don’t have much time. They’ll regroup and return in force once their raid leader is done with them,” Erik said. “Their blood is up and burning for a fight now.”

Halvard nodded. He rarely spoke during their tactical meetings. Only one purpose drove him and that was a personal crusade he had sworn against his enemy. One that brought him to serve a frontier noble out in the boonies. The rest of his knights were too respectful to speak up, seniority and rank kept them mute. Much to Adrian’s displeasure. Olaf had been a strong voice of reason here. One that he had rejected often, but refused to be silent when he could have helped save a life or two.

“We take advantage of their bloodlust,” Adrian announced, seeing no one else willing to speak up. “Anyone else?” His eyes surveyed the rest of the knights including the out of place militia commanders.

Bjorn stepped forward. “Start a line. Militiamen in the middle while we flank the enemy force. It would end with a satisfactory total annihilation. Just as you desired.”

“We’ll all die!” the eldest of the militiamen commanders spoke up suddenly. Markius, Adrian remembered he was called. “Their tide will crush us in moments–”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Do you fear death, commander?” Bjorn sneered.

“No, Lord Knight,” Markius gulped. “I fear wasted lives and unnecessary death. There are a hundred different paths we can take that would win us this engagement without a tenth of the lives it would cost here.”

“Would any of them end in the complete and utter destruction of all the orcs? Will they satisfy our leader?” Erik replied.

Markius’s words stumbled. He opened and closed his mouth without a sound. He shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t.”

All of them turned back to him. Their eyes carried the weight of life and death behind them. Whatever he decided here and now would happen without a single dissenting opinion. He took a deep breath, the smell of smoke and death still permeated around the village. It would not leave for quite some time.

“The barony cannot sustain such losses,” he started, Bjorn frowned but nodded nonetheless. “We must change our approach, take advantage of their weaknesses and negate their advantages.” He turned towards Erik, giving him a meaningful look.

“Their greatest advantage is their numerical superiority. They do not match our martial skill or tactical abilities.” Erik said.

Adrian nodded. “We force them through a tight gap, make them come through one by one. Funnel them and kill each one that dares step through…”

“We would require an area of the village with thick stone foundations that can take an orc charge without crumbling,” Bjorn said. His eyes drifted back towards Markius, everyone knew the other commanders were scared beyond their wits to contribute to the discussion. They respected the old man for having the steel resolve to speak up amongst knights that could crush his head with a flick of a finger.

Marikus thought for a moment before his eyes widened. “The crossroads between the smithy. It is the most solid building in the entire village. Even more so than the manor. No wood was used in its production and the furnace there required months to build. Massive stones two feet wide and four long each. It will survive multiple charges! But…”

“If the host of Orc’s charge at once,” Erik finished his sentence. Everyone understood what it meant.

“We can block all other approaches with the collapsed buildings around it. Much of them were burned during the raid exposing their foundations,” Adrian said. His plan came together in his mind. A defensive plan, one he internally cringed at, but it was a chance to destroy their entire raid party. “We’ll need to transport the stones with haste. Any broken wagon, unburned but collapsed homes and barns. Stack the dead horses too. We must build obstacles they will find too troublesome to climb.”

“There's a destroyed granary close to the smithy. That wood will do well here,” Markius chimed.

“We have the groundwork for a plan. Let us flesh it out,” He grabbed a piece of wood and handed it to Markius. “Draw out the layout of the crossroads.”

Markius nodded, but grabbed another piece of wood. The one Adrian had handed to him was too large and unwieldy. Adrian shrugged and threw it over his back, it landed in a crashing heap among other debris that had been cleared out already to make space around them. He needed to get used to the change of perspective from normal villagers and his own. A normal sized stick to him was a massive log to them.

Markius drew the area around the smithy.