Chapter 6
Four days after the initial battle, Yorksburg scout boyz were spotted near the castle again, exchanging arrows with Londonsburg skirmishers. Two Yorksburg Orcs ended up with a bullet in their skulls, a Londonsburg Gob took an arrow to the chest, the powerful bow ripping right through the Gob and coming out the other side, killing him on the spot.
And a few hours after that, a Yorksburg army could be seen marching to the castle. The Baron deployed his gunners to the castle parapet. They had a longer effective range than the bows of the Orcs, and they had cover, so any exchange of ranged fire would end up in the Baron’s favor. The Orcs were still a ways off, so all the men had to do was wait, and all the Baron and Jake had to do was consider the possibilities.
As the army got closer and the Baron got reports from his scouts, he finally got a good idea of the balance of power. The Baron’s men combined with the garrison already there makes up 838 men. 718 of those were the Baron’s, only 120 of them were from the garrison. They had taken extremely heavy losses repelling the initial assault, close to 60% casualties. If the Baron had not arrived when he did, they would have surely lost the castle.
The enemy was, according to the Londonsburg scouts, around 3,500 men strong. About four times larger than the defending army. Conventional wisdom in this world told the Baron that the attacker in a siege needs to be around three times larger, because of how easy it is to defend a city when you have magic.
Though that saying was for humans, the Baron had no idea how good or bad Orcs are at the siege, something which Imperials are said to excel at. The Baron was still unsure about his Orc allies; they seemed to be extremely disciplined, but kind of backwards in their thinking, but the Baron wasn’t sure if that was a productive line of thought. After all, it could be possible that these thoughts were just Imperial ethnocentrism digging its gnarled talons into his mind.
Even though he is a historic progressive, no one is completely immune to propaganda. He knew that Orcs do tend to think differently than him, but he still wasn’t sure the extent of that. He highly doubted that any difference in Orc psychology would lead to them being ineffective, especially considering the fact that the Orcs he had recruited were working together with his men near flawlessly.
The Baron slapped both his cheeks to clear his thoughts. He was right, that line of thinking was highly unproductive. What was important now was coordinating with his allies and coming up with a defense plan. He leaned over the crenulations to get a better look at the approaching enemy.
The Yorksburg Orcs had three siege towers fully built, and the Baron had decided to leave his cannon in Bickenstadt because it would have slowed them down. He could see battering rams, ladders, and other wooden contraptions being carried or rolled right besides it.
The Baron knew that he would have to get somewhat creative to get through this siege without too many casualties. Luckily for him, with the siege towers and battering rams slowing the enemy down, they had plenty of time to formulate a plan. Jake was staring at the coming army with his arms crossed across his chest and licked his lips.
“I can’t wait to duel! Da boyz love it when I crack some skullz!”
The Baron audibly sighed.
“Right, the duel. I suppose I’ll take this one. You’re right, it’s good for morale.”
Jake laughed loudly and slapped the Baron on the back.
“Yeah! And it’s bundles o’ fun!”
The Baron looked like he just had an epiphany, and then smiled and laughed with Jake.
“Yes! I won’t lie, I do LOVE dueling! Now, I have some quick business to attend to. You just gave me an idea!”
The Baron high fived Jake and ran off towards the courtyard, where his wagons were parked. Jean was sitting on a crate of firearms, tinkering with a round pocket watch attached to his pocket with a silver chain.
“Jean! Do we have any good bags? Ones we can fill with gunpowder and attach to arrows? And maybe satchels or something? Also to be filled with gunpowder.”
Jean ignored the Baron for a few seconds before realizing what he had asked for. He fully set down the watch he was working on and turned to face the Baron.
“Wha…why? That sounds dangerous.”
The Baron smiled brightly.
“It is dangerous, Jean! This is warfare! Now, where are the bags and fuses? The long ones.”
Jean pointed to the powder wagon and went back to what he was doing. The Baron ran to the powder wagon and grabbed some pouches and satchels that were nearby.
“Thanks Jean. Nice watch by the way. Is that from the Republique?”
Jean nodded without looking up from his work.
“Oui, my father gave this to me. It never worked right, and I still can’t figure out why. Best I can come up with is that it’s cursed.”
The Baron filled various pouches with black powder, placing a fuse in them, and then tying them off tightly.
“Hm. Have you checked the gears for runes?”
Jean stopped his work for a moment before quickly dropping his tiny screwdriver and grabbing the gears he had laid out on a nearby crate.
“Runes? I know little about runes. I 'ave been doing nothing but mech- I mean, engineering, since I turned 20, uh, the age of maturity for elves. I was going to learn La Magie after I master all forms of engineering. Are these runes visible to the naked eye, or is it some sort of, magic...eye technique to see it?”
The Baron began tying the small pouch to an arrow, using a lot of extra string to make sure it stayed in place.
“Nope, they’re just letters carved into something, basically. Can’t activate them without magic, but once they are active you can just scratch them off and their effects will stop. Though, depending on the enchantment, that could end up being impossible. Or dangerous.”
Jean checked each of the components closely, eventually finding one with a small symbol carved into it, almost imperceptible unless you were specifically looking for it. The symbol matched no writing system that Jean had encountered during his travels. He took a carving tool and touched it to the rune, before stiffening up and setting it down.
“Uh, ‘ow do you mean dangerous? Should I not scratch this off?”
The Baron absentmindedly searched through carts trying to find a bow, throwing random things out as he rushed to find what he wanted.
“Well, my sword’s runes can’t be scratched off. They’re enhancement runes, makes my sword sturdier. You can’t scratch off the runes because they make the metal far stronger than it would be otherwise, and they’re carved into the metal itself. Only way to destroy my sword is to have a sharper and more durable sword cut through it, which I am sad to admit is very possible, my sword is old, and I was far poorer back when I commissioned it. And the runes can only be removed with some sort of tool enchanted to be harder than my blade. Oh, by the way there’s stuff like the Rune of Anger-think the Dwarves call it 'The Rune of Wrath and Ruin', which explodes when it is damaged.”
Jean looked frustratedly at the Baron. The Baron finally found a bow and celebrated like a toddler.
“Baron, do I scratch this off or no? Will it explode me or something?”
The Baron nocked the arrow and pulled the bowstring back and forth slowly.
“No, if someone’s messing with you, they probably put in a gravity rune to make the pieces heavy and move slower. Tell me, is it any heavier than a normal watch?”
“I don’t know, I’ve only ever 'ad this one.”
The Baron inspected the bow string closely as he spoke.
“Great, well, I’m guessing that’s what it is. Scratch it off, when you do it will become much heavier for a few seconds, so put it on something sturdy.”
Jean breathed in a sigh of relief and quickly scratched off the rune. The watch ripped itself out of his hand and fell fast and hard. It slammed into the dirt, creating a small pocket watch shaped crater in the ground. He was lucky it didn’t fall on his foot. He was just so excited to get the watch working again he forgot to find a sturdy surface.
“Well, it could have been the Rune of Anger now that I think about it. It tends to make things heavier as a side effect, that’s why no one uses it on swords. Aside from the fact it explodes.”
The Baron fully drew the arrow back and fired. The arrow was much heavier than was normal, as was expected, but an experienced archer could probably figure out how to use it just fine.
Not like we’re aiming at anything small.
Jean squinted his eyes.
“Wait so we could ‘ave just destroyed the whole castle right now?”
“Oh no, the rune is far too small. With a rune that small you’d probably be dead and that box would be destroyed, but that’s about it. Oh, also me. Say, Jean, do we have any extremely high proof alcohol?”
Jean looked shocked before shaking his head and answering.
“...Oui, it’s two carts over from where you are. What exactly are you doing?”
The Baron thrust the arrow towards Jean.
“I’m making explosive arrows and satchel charges to shoot at and blow up the siege towers.”
“Oh. That's not the worst idea I ‘ave ever ‘eard. You will need more arrows than that to do any real damage, though. I’ll go get some of the Gobs to make some and pass them out. You go off and be charismatique or whatever you do.”
The Baron nodded and left the courtyard, saying “bring them up to the parapet when the Gobs finish. And some fuzes.”
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The Baron watched as the towers slowly made their way to the castle. And, just as the Orcs were about to get into rifle range, they fully stopped, save for two riders who kept moving. The Baron sighed and palmed his saber’s hilt.
“Right men! I’ll be dueling today! You’d better cheer for me when I win!”
The men cheered as the Baron walked down to the gate and found Jake waiting there, both his and the Baron’s horses tied next to a posts.
“Oi! Letz get goin’! I been psychin’ my self up so much!”
Jake jumped on his horse, and the Baron did the same.
“Yeah, well, I’m more interested in hearing my choir sing.”
“Roight! Does guns, yeah? Your boyz look good as ‘ell, by de way! Real professional loik, ‘minds me o’ Orc soldiers deyz is so disciplined!”
“Thank you, that is really quite nice to hear from an Orc. Say, do you know Georg Habersonne? Der Bande der Wolfe?”
“Yeah, I fough wif ‘em. Dey was alroight, noice gitz, fun to party wiff. Dey do foight well, but well, your boyz just got sum more foightiness to ‘em. An’ I don’t fink dey woulda charged an’ fought off any gitz to get in ‘ere!”
The Baron smiled brightly.
“Well then, I’ll just bask in my superiority.”
They rode the rest of the way in optimistic silence. Their opponents were two Orcs in plate armor.
Seems like they’ve got two or more army groups. Or maybe I don’t understand Orc chain of command well enough.
“Roight! ‘oo ‘ere is gonna foight me?”
The Orc was large, but only a little larger than the average Orc. He wore simple gray hued steel armor with rough looking fur sticking out from the joints.
“I will, I suppose.”
The Baron shrugged and rode over to him. The other Yorksburg Orc also shrugged and rode over to Jake. The Orcs dismounted and the Baron followed after them. The Baron’s opponent drew his longsword and lugged it over his shoulder.
“I am Jake! Jake Whitmore! ‘Ere to fight you, 'uman. What’s your name?”
“Huh, my ally is named Jake as well. Is that a common name? Oh, sorry, I am known simply as the Baron. Though, my given name is Johan, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Well? Do I call you Baron or Jo’an?”
The Baron shrugged.
“Probably Baron. ‘S what everyone else calls me.”
The Yorksburg Jake smiled brightly.
“Roight den, Baron. Let’s get dis started, yeah?”
Jake shot forward, slamming his longsword straight down onto the Baron. The Baron drew his saber and parried his blade in the same movement, lifting the saber above his head and hammering Jake in the face with the saber’s pommel.
Jake took a step back, but quickly recovered and wrenched his sword up at the Baron. The Baron dodged and focused his mind entirely on Jake. He could see what Jake’s next move was going to be, he was going to swipe horizontally at the Baron’s head. As Jake began to swing, The Baron ducked and stepped past Jake’s guard, placing a draw cut on his knee, slicing through and then sweeping the ankle of his other leg. Jake fell backwards and immediately grabbed his sword in the middle.
The Baron stabbed down at Jake, who quickly pushed the thrust off to the side and jabbed up at the Baron’s neck in one smooth motion, forcing him to dodge backwards. Jake quickly stood up, his left leg was unsteady, but he was standing.
The Baron clicked his tongue and quietly tried to trigger the visions he always gets. As he concentrated deeply, it came to him, Jake would step forward and swing up at him after pretending to chamber a thrust.
After a few seconds of waiting, Jake began to chamber a thrust. Just as he started chambering the Baron lunged forward, his saber entering the Orc’s left thigh. The Baron withdrew his blade and quickly blocked the flurry of attacks Jake threw his way, who was screaming with each wild swipe. Jake stood up on his good leg and kicked the Baron in the gut, falling to his knee as his bad leg failed to keep him up.
The Baron got knocked back quite far, the Orcs kick stumbled him quite a bit and he had to fall and roll backwards to regain his balance. Jake didn’t attempt to get up again, sitting on his haunches and propping himself up with the longsword.
I did get him through the thigh, but I’m not sure if I hit the femoral artery. This could very well be a trick. Wait, do Orcs even have that artery? It’s technically possible they just don’t have it.
The Baron attempted to activate his ability, concentrating hard, and suddenly he could see Jake lunge at him. As he got ready to defend, the Baron was hit with a splitting headache, nearly as bad as he felt when he first woke up. He doubled over and retched, not throwing up, but getting pretty close.
He was a gravity mage, they had incredibly high pain tolerances, and he was almost puking from how bad his headache was. Jake saw and took his opportunity, lunging at the Baron, sword held high. The Baron barely composed himself enough to deal with it, raising his saber and letting the longsword slide down the blade, quickly flicking his wrist and slicing right though Jake’s neck, a move which was the Baron’s specialty.
Jake collapsed into a heap on the ground, staring at the Baron with confusion as the life escaped from his neck. The Baron’s head still hurt, but he had to play it off, raising his sword and howling in victory. He could hear his men cheer from the walls, and he briefly allowed it to get to his head before lapsing into thought as he mounted his horse.
What was with that headache? Did I overtax my gift or something?
Jake, the allied Jake, was doing just fine in his duel. They seemed to be somewhat of an even match, though as a man with decades of dueling experience, The Baron could tell that Jake’s opponent was more talented. That didn’t necessarily mean he would win, but it made it more likely.
It would seem that the two were, indeed, evenly matched. They both managed to injure each other at the same time. It was a very close call, but it looked like Jake won. His opponent pierced through Jake’s apparently unenchanted armor, the Yorksburg Orc’s sword entering around where his intestines were. With a healing mage he would be fine, but Jake had stabbed into the Orc’s armpit, his shoulders were already drooping and blood was pouring out from his armpit and spattering against the ground.
The Baron trotted over to him, got off his horse, and helped Jake to his. Jake was smiling the whole time. He raised his longsword and yelled, holding his stomach as blood began to seep out.
“I might’a been injured, but I won! London knows ‘ow much I love duelin’! ‘Es given’ me more n’ more gits to kill!”
The Baron patted his back as they rode back to the castle.
“Just, try to keep your insides from becoming your outsides, yeah?”
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After the Yorksburg army gathered the dead duelists, the siege towers began moving forward, with the infantry trying to stay roughly behind them.
As soon as the Orcs came into rifle range, they fired. The sound was deafening, but the rifles did only middling damage. Most of the infantry was behind the siege tower, so they only hit those near the sides, and bits of wood flew out from bullets impacting the towers. The riflemen left their post and were replaced by new riflemen, the original riflemen grabbing their smoothbore muskets.
The second line of riflemen fired, dropping Orcs around the towers, and a few Orcs visible through openings in the towers. This row also stepped back, being replaced by the first row with their muskets, and grabbed muskets of their own. The men fired volley after volley as the towers crept closer. At around the halfway point, the Orcs began to sprint out from behind the towers, carrying ladders, pavises, and a couple of catapults.
The catapults were smaller than normal, and they looked to be just loaded with medium sized rocks.
Why the small catapults? Aren’t larger ones more cost effective?
As the siege towers got into range, archers nocked their bomb arrows and took aim. There was a man holding a lit matchcord next to each one, waiting for the command. The Baron raised his saber and dropped it down.
“Light the fuses and fire!”
As soon as the fuses began to hiss, the archers let loose. Some of the arrows fell short, some just missed, but most stuck into towers. After a few moments, the arrows exploded, bathing the towers in smoke. The defenders were dead silent as they stared into the smoke, waiting to see the damage. After a few moments, the towers emerged, acrid black clouds parting as the massive hulking behemoths made their way to the walls.
There were huge holes throughout the towers. The Baron subtly lifted his eyepatch and saw into the tower, finding that a few Orcs within the tower were killed by the explosion. It didn’t stop the towers dead in their tracks, howevers, dead Orcs were no longer a threat.
I am disappointed in the explosions, though. I guess last second defenses can only be so powerful.
“Men! Fire at will! Pick your targets and fire quickly!”
Sporadic gunfire erupted from the parapet, and Orcs dropped like flies. The Baron looked around and saw that more Yorksburg Orcs were slowly surrounding the castle, moving around just outside of rifle range. Jake was apparently healed and running around the castle making sure that everyone was in place.
As Jake got near the Baron, he yelled to get Jake’s attention.
“Hey! Jake! You're in command of my men on the other side! Just don’t get them killed needlessly!”
Jake gave the Baron a thumbs up and ran off to the opposite side of the castle where Orcs had just begun advancing.
The siege towers would reach the walls in a couple of minutes. They were pretty slow already, and the terrain, while not necessarily being rough, was pretty bumpy. The infantry, however, would begin docking ladders in a matter of seconds.
As the ladders went up, the Baron’s men attempted to push them back down. Musketmen kept up the fire, and pikemen pushed down ladders. Though multiple men were pushing on each ladder, not all of them were falling, Orcs did tend to be much stronger and heavier than humans, making it very difficult to knock them down.
As Orcs began to climb the ladders, the pikemen stabbed down at them. Many Orcs were impaled through the head, shoulder, and even their hands. However, some Orcs were able to grab the pikes and pull the men over the walls, sending them tumbling down to their deaths. Most of the pikemen decided they would rather lose the pikes than their life, though, so only a few unlucky souls met with such misfortune.
Fergus had a terrible idea, and he had gotten two Orcs to help him with it. When an Orc climbing a ladder looked up, all he saw was Fergus’s knife flying at his face. When the Orc fell, Fergus chopped at the ladder with his hand ax. He was being held by his ankles and dangled over the castle wall.
As the rungs of the ladder toppled to the ground, arrows began impacting all around him, and one impacted square on his back, not piercing his enchanted berzerkeri clothing but absolutely leaving a bruise. Their archers had gotten unlucky, but he couldn’t take any more chances now that they spotted him. The Orcs lifted him up and set him back down on the parapet. They looked excited, but Fergus was frowning.
“Archers. Cannae do that again. That shite ‘urt!”
The Orcs deflated slightly but quickly perked back up as some Yorksburg Orcs vaulted over the wall.
The Baron looked around for Udo, just in case, and found him sword deep in an Orc on the opposite side of the castle, kicking him over the wall. His hand began drifting towards his helmet, and the Baron shouted ‘HEY!’ at the top of his lungs. Udo jumped slightly and looked at the Baron, pouting.
After fighting off Orcs climbing the ladders for a while, the siege towers finally docked at the castle walls. As soon as the door swung down, the pikemen on the wall leveled their pikes at the entrance.
Orcs began pouring out, fighting pikemen and being shot by musketmen. The Baron stepped forwards and threw something into the closest tower, a loud boom ringing from within the tower a few seconds later, sending smoke flying and a few stunned Orcs stumbling out, bleeding in various places and falling off in random directions.
As the men celebrated at the explosions, the first catapult volley finally fell on the defenders. Pikemen and riflemen were crushed by boulders, though only a handful. The catapults were very inaccurate. The Baron smiled and pointed at the catapults.
“They’ve brought their weapons within range, the idiots! Gunners! Fill those clowns with lead! Our guns will get through those pavise with ease! Kill them! For your comrades!”
The musketmen cheered and began firing at the catapults, bullets punching holes through both Orc and pavise alike. If they were enchanted it would be a different story, however, enchantments strong enough to make wood repel bullets were expensive and time consuming to produce.
After just a few volleys, the catapult crews were either dead or retreating. The Baron lit another bomb and tossed it into a different siege tower, getting the same result as before. As he watched the Orcs stumble out of the tower, he felt a rage building in his heart. He had no choice but to kill these men being thrown to their deaths by commanders who seemingly insisted on using antiquated tactics. The Baron strapped on a vest with four satchels attached to it and yelled at the top of his lungs.
“Hear me, men of Orcland! This is why we don’t use siege towers in the Empire!”
The Baron drew his saber and jumped up onto the door of the nearest tower, tearing his way into it, parrying and slashing without slowing down at all.
Every Orc that got in his way was swiftly cut down as a whirlwind of death flew down the floors to the bottom, using every trick, technique, and magical spell the Baron had to rip through his enemy. He was quite impressed with himself, he was finally living up to the legend of the Baron, or at least the legend of his martial prowess.
When he reached the bottom his eyes began to glow yellow and he palmstriked in front of him, creating a barrier of strong gravitational force which shoved back any Orc within it. He swiftly cut off his vest and ignited the fuse using fire magic, bolting up the stairs as soon as it started. On his way up he ruthlessly cut through any of the remaining Orcs who would stand in his way, emerging at the top and jumping onto an enemy Orc fighting on the walls, landing with his saber firmly embedded in an Orc’s heart.
As the Baron spun in place and chopped off the hand of a different Orc, the leftmost siege tower exploded, blowing away any Orcs near the bottom and sending the siege tower careening into the one next to it. The middle most tower somehow managed to stay up, though a lot of its side was ripped off by the falling tower, exposing any Orcs who were climbing to the top. The Baron’s men cheered and redoubled their efforts, swiftly killing or pushing off any Orc who was unlucky enough to be at the front of the fighting.
The tip of Helmut’s rapier glided through the throat of an Orc as he climbed over the wall, seemingly not even noticing him before his blood was already covering the battlements. Even when an Orc did notice him, he was swiftly dealt with. Musketmen all around him fired, not even flinching as Orcs got closer, completely trusting their lives to Helmut and Gaius.
As Orcs piled onto a ladder, Gaius grabbed the top and, with the help of Jack, toppled the ladder. Orcs screamed as they fell backwards, completely unable to save themselves from the fall. Gaius leaned over the wall and slashed down one handed with his greatsword, slicing right through arms of an Orc infantryman, continuing his strike into the jaw of another, splitting his head in half and sending his kettle helm flying through the air. Behind him an Orc raised his sword, but was quickly filled with bayonets as musketmen protected their caprine comrade.
Gaius heard a familiar yelp and turned to find Udo getting dragged over the wall, swiftly running and grabbing his foot before he completely fell. Udo stabbed the Orc grabbing him in the neck and was dragged back up. Udo suddenly felt much better, and he wasn’t sure why.
“You lost your helmet, amicus.”
Udo felt his head and almost jumped with joy.
“Fuck yeah!”
Orcs continued to run up through the almost broken siege tower, which was a horrible idea because the Baron still had bombs left. An explosion racked through the tower and some of the Orcs were thrown out of the opening. The Baron laughed raucously as he lit another bomb and chucked it into the opened tower.
“Shouldn’t have used such antiquated shit, huh!?”
At this point, the Baron wasn’t sure if the enemy commander had some incredible plan he couldn't figure out, or if he was just an idiot.
Or perhaps he’s just a traditionalist like my father? What a shitshow.
Just as the Baron began to strap on another vest, someone grabbed his shoulder. It was Fergus.
“I wanna do it! That looked awesome!”
The Baron smiled and handed his vest to Fergus.
“Just remember which satchel has the fuse, should be the one on the chest. Light it when you get to the bottom.”
Fergus strapped on the vest and dashed off.
“Oh, go to the rightmost tower! Place the bundle on the left side of it so it careens into the one next to it!”
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The Orc commander watched the assault, barely able to contain his anger. He was not the army’s first pick, nor it’s second, but those Orcs had died, leaving him in command. He was a traditionalist, a monk of York during his 20s, and now a commander of York in his 40s
.
“‘Ow dare dey use does FUCKING WEAPONS!?”
He flipped his small command table as his last intact tower was blown up, falling into the mangled one in the middle and knocking that one down as well.
“What coward shit! O’ course some Empire git’s gonna fuckin’ come ‘ere and spread ‘is poison to Londonsburg! Warfare should be right simple, dammit! Youz got no honor!”
Another Orc wearing plate walked over to him, kneeling with his head down.
“Maybe does gitz’le fight ‘arder if youz is dere personally. Wez still got ladders!”
The commander turned to look at his lieutenant.
“Youz is a bloody genius! I’m ‘eadin’ out!”
He sprinted out towards the battlefield. His lieutenant smiled and righted the thrown table, taking his commander’s seat for himself.
“‘Es dumb as ‘ell. Why’d I gotta get placed with ‘im. Fuckin’ Yorksburg. Wez need to learn dat imperial bullshit Calum was screamin’ ‘bout.”
He muttered to his nearby Gob advisor. The lieutenant watched with smug satisfaction as Calum began climbing a ladder and was immediately shot, slamming into the ground loud enough to be faintly heard over the din of battle. He immediately stood up and blew three short notes into his bull horn.
“Wez callin’ it off! Pull back!”
His smug satisfaction turned to anger as he watched his Orcs get peppered with bullets as they retreated.
“Dis never woulda ‘appened if da fuckin’ priests o’ York weren’t so bloody stupid. ‘Traditional values’ my fuckin’ arse!”
The lieutenant angrily stood up from his chair and went to find his horse. They would need to move back to camp, for some York forsaken reason they were camped 20 miles away in castle Blenham.
“Son of a bitch. Wez can’t keep doin’ dis. Greg’s gotta fuckin’ understand, we ain’t winnin’ shit like dis. ‘Es gotta at least give us bigga catapults, or stop breakin’ every fuckin’ cannon we find.”
Jim, his Gob adviser, yelled directly in his ear.
“Roight boss, so roight! Keep up da good work bruvva!”
The lieutenant sighed deeply as he waited for the ringing to subside. 20 miles never seemed so long to him before. He steeled himself for what needed to be done. As soon as he got back to camp, he was going to fire Jim. And have a long talk with Greg over the sending stone the first commander, a rich son of old Orc nobility, had brought. He smiled, realizing that now that command fell to him, he also got to keep all of his previous commander’s stuff.
He scowled as he heard cheers echo throughout the valley, emanating from Castle Cornwall.
“Yeah, wez gotta get sum reorganizin’ done.”