image [https://i.imgur.com/QLcCIXq.jpg]

Clearing through scouts paid dividends on our return trip. Not only had we expedited our exit, but we’d likely stalled their reconnaissance and marching orders. The dust had settled by the time Yula and I reached Hawkhurst Meadow late that night. Eagle Eyes did little for night vision, but the orcs lit up Iremont enough that we could tell they looked for us.

I summoned Beaker before returning to town. He flew to the manor ahead of me, heralding my arrival.

The abandoned and boarded settlement made for a spooky homecoming. The siege had already started. I kept Presence off to mask our movement, but Corporal Turan spotted us approaching the earthworks. She hailed us from the modified motte and bailey that now served as the outer perimeter’s gate.

As most of the town slept or tried to, I gave her a brief account of what Yula and I learned before retiring. My apartment served as a nursery, which suited me. I preferred the Dark Room’s mobility during times like this, so I tossed the magic rope up in the middle of the bailey.

Uproar Just so you guys know, the orcs are reporting that Apache or Fabulosa has an earthquake ability. I would avoid fighting them anywhere underground or in buildings.

Duchess Orc reports? Are you working with orcs now? Are you in the Doublespines?

Bircht Aren’t you playing an elf? How did you get orcs to listen to you?

Uproar Let’s just say the elves aren’t happy with me right now. They can also reverb ten times over.

Bircht Reverb doesn’t work that way. He’s using something else.

Uproar I’m just passing on what I heard. They say someone reverbed ten fireballs.

Duchess Reverb only redirects targeted spells.

Uproar Oh, yeah. I forgot. Anyway, I also think Fabulosa might have turned into an orc and has a new name—Yula.

Duchess I thought you said Apache was by himself.

Bircht What? Players can’t change names. You wouldn’t believe the lengths I’ve gone to try, but there’s just no way to do it without cracking your core.

Duchess I wish we could choose orc avatars. They’re totally hot.

Uproar Then Apache has an orc scout fighting for him.

Toadkiller Interesting. Keep the reports coming.

Duchess Are you really fighting him in his city? I forgot what he named it.

Audigger It’s called Hawkhurst.

Uproar No. I got reports from across a river, but I’m headed there now in case anyone wants to join me.

Duchess I’m still a pass on that. It’s nice to see you getting your own hands dirty.

Bircht Good luck, guys.

I closed the contest group chat when I finished reading the conversation. Drawing the emperor to us meant involving Uproar, and seeing him spill details about us made me realize how much his involvement would be a wildcard. At least, his confusion with Yula might work in Fabulosa’s favor. If she stalked another player, false sightings might let them lower their guard. And since we promised to be in the final two, anything benefitting her game helped me.

I resisted the urge to feed disinformation. Regarding the group chat, the less said, the better. Being caught in a lie ruined credibility and the potential to manipulate opponents in the future. Worse still, it might confuse Fabulosa, and since she wasn’t near a mailbox, I couldn’t straighten out my stories with her.

Besides, I had more pressing matters than player gossip. The orcs would arrive tomorrow or the day after, and my ploy to use the emperor’s spells against him failed.

I drifted off to sleep after exhausting myself with abandoned backup plans.

The army didn’t arrive until six days later, and they only appeared on the edge of Hawkhurst Meadow in the late evening.

Fin had forged great bells for each of our castle towers. They worked as an alert system for approaching enemies. When we heard the chimes, people abandoned their routines and tasks, equipped themselves, and ran to the earthworks. To avoid getting trapped between the earthworks and city walls, citizen soldiers climbed the palisade with makeshift ladders. If the orcs breached the earthworks, everyone knew how to retreat and pull up the ladders to defend the second barrier.

Many Fort Krek soldiers thought the precaution unnecessary, as orc armies moved slowly. Most didn’t think they’d attack for a few days until they set up camp. So far, it seemed a reasonable assumption. Tents sprang along the tree line, just outside Hawkhurst’s boundaries. Their lackadaisical pace gave us ample time to equip, drill, and coordinate our defensive maneuvers.

Yula sent scouts to keep an eye on them along the river. Because of our Amphibious buff, we could patrol the river with impunity, and she taught everyone how to breathe through reeds. Those using a magical targeting system like Slipstream used them like periscopes and watched the orcs from beneath the surface.

The orders conjured the image of a fleet of submarine warriors. By sending our best archers and slingers, they could focus fire on the emperor if he neared the water’s edge. Many orcs avoided taking Fireball damage by jumping into the Orga before the explosions hit. Emperor Veegor wasn’t immune to damage, so we entertained silly ideas like the aquatic assault.

I could leap out of the water, deliver the final blow, and destroy the relic by triggering the rune through Gladius. He wouldn’t be able to Anticipate away from so many attacks, and we could bring him down quickly before he could do too much damage. Attacking from water stopped him from returning fire.

The ploy seemed farfetched, but I gave the word to harvest and distribute reeds in case the opportunity presented itself. Captain Jourdain called it Operation Watersnipe and drilled militia members to be ready. Of course, focused fire worked on land, so I didn’t expect Veegor to be anywhere close to the front.

Aside from water being an advantage, the orc and goblin incursions presented distinct challenges. Assassinating Veegor wouldn’t scatter his orcs like Rezan’s Deathless without his healing. Armies so big didn’t turn on a dime. We needed to convince the other orcs Hawkhurst could defeat them in a siege.

A great stare-down ensued. The orcs killed Beaker when he flew too close, but it taught him to stay outside their bow range.

I spotted the emperor with my Eagle Eyes two days after their arrival. An elf named Uproar stood beside him. I jumped over the palisade and ran beyond the earthworks for a closer look.

Name

Uproar

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Level

22

Difficulty

Challenging (yellow)

Health

610/610

Uproar hadn’t reached Winterbyte’s level when we first fought her, yet his health pool surpassed mine. I always attributed Winterbyte’s high stamina to her gnoll avatar, but somehow, an elf possessed almost as much.

A human NPC named Lady Havoc stood beside him. She wore assassin gear. Judging by their proximity to Veegor, I assumed Uproar had the emperor’s ear. They dimmed my chances of another assassination attempt. If more stealthers accompanied Uproar, I couldn’t tell. Detect Stealth didn’t work at great distances. Between the runes I placed around Hawkhurst and the settlement’s radar, I felt secure that infiltration wouldn’t be a problem. If anything, Uproar might deliver himself trying to creep inside our castle.

Both Uproar and Lady Havoc bore banners with identical symbols. They didn’t seem happy about carrying them.

I pulled out Gladius Cognitus. “Gladdy, can you see those symbols? What do they mean?”

My weapon hummed. “Regretfully, no. The orcs are beyond the extent of my vision.”

I held up the Eagle Eyes to the blade. “I suppose these don’t do you any good, do they?”

Gladius hummed in a tone that I took for sarcasm. Of course, swords didn’t have eyes, so what good could a pair of magical binoculars do?

After returning to the palisade, I found Yula on the motte and bailey’s elevated walkway. I offered her the Eagle Eyes. “What do those symbols mean?”

“Zey fall under emperor’s protection. Zey must carry to be safe.”

I grunted. Assuming the orcs had liberal rules for engagement, those banners kept them from mistaking Uproar and his rogue for the enemy. After fighting so long in Arweald, I couldn’t imagine the orc generals enjoying a human and elf advising their chief.

Watching Uproar lug around a banner seemed a fitting indignity for getting someone else to fight his battles. Destroying the banner also seemed a quick way to hoist him on his own petard.

As providence decreed, the emperor never neared the water, so Operation Watersnipe never saw fruition. The orcs assembled the morning of their third day outside our settlement. They stretched along the tree line, moving forward at an unhurried pace.

The assembly gave us plenty of time to occupy the earthworks. Yula took the westernmost position along the lake’s edge while Captain Jourdain held the makeshift gate we made through the earthworks. Thaxter commanded a group along the river while I held the middle ground. Each company had its own corporal except mine. I also designated two blessed followers to cast Glowing Coals to shore up weaknesses in our defense. Aside from those with Glowing Coals, my company consisted of dwarves and the original work crew.

Ida served as our only noncombatant officer. She, Mrs. Berling, and Lloyd kept the kids safe in the manor, far away from the action. Iris and her mercenaries controlled the motte and bailey’s gate as a second line of defense in case we lost our hold of the earthworks wall.

The only Fort Krek veteran in my company was Rachel. While she usually shadowed Yula, her experience in mass combat provided my group with invaluable counsel. When I retrieved Mendacium from the Dark Room, I explained it wouldn’t affect her if she kept a distance.

The debuff didn’t bother her. She smiled at the Life Leech debuff when she tested my new trinket’s range. “It’ll make you more effective in close-quarter combat.”

A dozen groups of one hundred orcs marched, each carrying a unique banner. They sang a deep, rhythmic chorus, but their drums didn’t keep the tempo. Instead, they communicated short, sporadic bursts of information. Behind their ranks lay the orc headquarters, where metal gongs issued orders. Soldiers couldn’t confuse their brassy noises with muffled drums, ensuring a direct line of communication across the battlefield. They marched within bowshot of the earthworks, close enough for me to see the headdressed centurion.

While the numbers unnerved me, it seemed anticlimactic. Where was the passion or battle lust? They didn’t charge or emit battle cries. “Yula was right about the orcs being slow.”

Rachel held her lip and warily watched me as if I were testing her.

“Please speak freely, Rachel. Your neck is on the line as much as anyone here.”

Rachel sounded unsure about giving her advice. “They’re conserving energy.”

“Conserving energy? Don’t orcs charge forward to intimidate enemies?”

“I suppose they could, sir. But an army that holds its ground is just as intimidating. Running drains a warrior of their strength. In large battles, the side that attacks usually loses.”

I grunted. The logic made sense, but it shattered my vainglorious expectations of clashing armies.

Rachel gestured to the enemy ranks, now close enough to see they bore long, wooden pikes. “They didn’t bother with ladders.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes, sir. They’ll need a ladder rush to get over this.” Rachel smacked the earthen wall overlooking the ditch for emphasis. “We’re more prepared than we were a few months ago. But I guess they figure their numbers make up for being ill-equipped. They’ll need the pikes more for climbing than fighting since they can’t reach us.”

“Maybe I destroyed their ladders. When the commander and I greeted them at the river, we sabotaged several piles of supplies at the river crossing a few days ago.”

“I doubt it, sir. They wouldn’t carry ladders—they’re too heavy. That’s something they would’ve made in the field.”

I pointed to the four orcs in ceremonial regalia. “Are these their generals?”

“Not active, sir. Maybe old generals, tribunes, or public figures. They’re just going to address us and leave.”

Yula shouted something, but I couldn’t hear her words. Down the line, company commanders and corporals relayed her message. “Hold fire until we receive zem!”

I relayed the message to the company beside me with a shout before asking Rachel. “I assume this has something to do with diplomacy?”

Rachel shrugged. “Sir, I still don’t understand it. The orcs do this every time before they attack. I think it’s a combat ritual. The Commander could explain it better than me.”

A short, older orc in a colorful headdress stepped forward and spoke in a tongue I’d never understand without Gladius Cognitus. “Shakur, the Stripper of Bones, slakes his bloodthirst in the Emperor’s wake. We offer no quarter and expect none. May Shakur revel in our dust.”

I translated what I heard to Rachel. “Who is Shakur?”

“I’m not sure, sir. Probably the Redbone’s patron deity. Their equivalent to Forren.”

The quartet of orcs thumped one another’s chest before Yula’s orders relayed to my position. “Fire at will when the shamans leave.” I passed the message down the line.

The four orcs dispersed without fanfare, like a pre-fight announcer leaving the boxing ring. As they returned to the back ranks, the century broke from a ten-by-ten formation into rows of orcs twenty wide and five deep. The maneuver stretched them the entire length of the earthworks, forcing us to fan out.

Before digging ditches and setting fences, we surmised the enemy might double our numbers at worst. Defending outside the castle behind us seemed a ridiculous strategy, but I alone thought so. For our orc commander, meeting enemies on a battlefield amounted to a matter of honor. The Fort Krek veterans insisted on making the enemy fight for every square inch, saying it would dampen the enemy’s morale. Withdrawing directly to the castle would embolden the Redbones. We needed to show the orcs we could fight, and breaching our castle wouldn’t end their campaign. Storming a breach incurred a high mortality rate, and if they knew they faced heavy resistance after our walls fell, they might not push so hard to conquer us.

At one-to-five odds, spreading our measly 240 defenders looked too thin, but no other option existed. I situated myself between the dwarves and Thaxter’s company. “You guys move closer to the center, so Captain Jourdain’s troupe doesn’t have to spread too thin. I can hold this section by myself.” I gestured to a 50-yard stretch of the embankment.

The militia members in my company squinted in disbelief, an expression so indiscreet that only dwarves could get away with it and not seem insubordinate.

Orc drums discharged a barrage of rattles and thumps, then fell silent. Twelve hundred battle-hardened orcs chanted an angry chorus and lurched forward.

I moved toward Thaxter’s company and gave them the same order. From a distance, Thaxter gave me a quick salute and a nod, which elated me for a fleeting moment.

Claiming that I could hold so much territory alone was easy. Doing so required a lot more grit. But a good officer earned their salutes on the battlefield.