—Leon's Perspective—
We had just finished the shooting practice. The groups withdrew for dinner. I called Tommy and Kevin over to me, and once I was sure the area was empty, I spoke in a calm but serious tone.
"Listen to me carefully. What we're about to talk about must remain secret for now. I'm telling you this because I trust you both—don't disappoint me."
Kevin and Tommy frowned, listening intently. I continued.
"Patrol commander Apollo found tracks around the camp yesterday. He suspects we're being watched. Right now, he's tracking those signs together with the Vaegir warriors and Renault."
I stopped speaking. Kevin was the first to break the silence.
"Commander… are you expecting an attack?"
"I'm not sure. But we must stay alert. One of the basic necessities of being a soldier is vigilance. Especially in the wild. With no friends or reinforcements at our side. Let's hope whoever's watching us isn't an enemy."
Tommy and Kevin exchanged glances. Kevin turned back to me.
"Why don't you tell everyone?"
I looked at them. They still had much to learn.
"… you're still young. Let me explain."
They listened carefully.
"The first reason: we're not certain whether those watching us are enemies or not."
They nodded.
"The second reason: we are in a camp full of people with little experience. If this information spreads, it will make them restless, cause them to behave abnormally. That will either alert those watching us or raise their suspicion. Because of these two reasons, we're keeping it quiet."
The two thought for a moment before Tommy spoke.
"Commander, I didn't understand the second part. Why are we trying not to raise suspicion? Shouldn't we take up a defensive position and put the camp on high alert?"
I paused and looked at Kevin—his face showed he thought the same thing. Hah… these kids have potential, but still so much to learn. After a deep breath, I asked:
"What's the state of our camp? Tell me about our general situation."
The two were taken aback. They looked at each other first. Kevin shrugged. They thought for a couple of minutes, even glanced around. Kevin spoke first.
"Our camp is in a sheltered position, in a valley surrounded by hills, with natural barriers. It's also surrounded by forest."
Tommy nodded and continued.
"We have a clean water source inside the camp. There's a wall around the camp, but it's insufficient. We supply our food from the forest and the lake."
I nodded.
"Correct. Continue."
They thought a little more. Tommy went on.
"… our forces are weak. We only have seventeen professional warriors—meaning you and your colleagues."
Grinning, I nodded.
"Right. What else?"
Tommy spoke again.
"… we don't have infantry. Only twenty-five Vaegir warriors… but… they are standard infantry. Their abilities are limited."
"Correct! What else?"
They thought some more, then shook their heads. I calmly continued.
"What you've said is good, and all correct, but there are missing points. Now listen carefully, and I'll tell you what you failed to notice. First flaw: our ammunition is low and our food supplies are limited. We can't withstand a long siege. We only have enough crossbow bolts for a single clash. We only started making arrows yesterday."
I stopped. The two looked shocked. Kevin spoke.
"Commander, we just arrived in this world. Why are you acting as if a great war is about to erupt? We didn't provoke anyone. We've only been here a few days!"
"Yes, Commander! Kevin is right. Each militiaman has two quivers. One quiver holds thirty arrows—that makes sixty per man. We have two hundred militia. That means twelve thousand arrows. I'm sure we made two hundred more arrows yesterday. And you and your colleagues each have four quivers. That brings the total to over fifteen thousand arrows. Why would our ammunition be insufficient?"
I chuckled at their analysis, then answered.
"Good analysis, Tommy. But incomplete. First, let's identify who our enemy might be. The tracks Apollo found were boot prints—or shoes—which eliminates the possibility of creatures or monsters. The only human settlement around here with soldiers is the Lake Town, seventy kilometers away. According to Apollo's reports, the town's leader and his deputy never let their soldiers leave the town. He feels unsafe. A typical arrogant and cowardly noble. Because of the dragon in Erebor, there are no other large-scale human settlements nearby. The forest elves don't leave their woods, and even if they did, they have no quarrel or grudge with us. That leaves only one option…"
Before I could finish, Kevin said it.
"Orcs!"
I grinned—they were learning fast. I continued.
"Yes, orcs. If those watching us are orcs and they've set their sights on us, a night raid is very likely. Tell me, how confident are you that our militia can hit moving targets? With so much cover in this dense forest, with wolf riders darting across the battlefield, do you really think every arrow you loose will kill someone? Especially when we lack infantry to shield us, and when we're using crossbows that take a long time to reload?"
The two stared at me in shock. They shook their heads. I went on.
"Your second flaw: this unit has no discipline! You were just fighting with the Vaegir warriors. You don't trust each other—in fact, you hate each other. Preparing for battle, or even joining one, in such a state is extremely risky. The greatest damage doesn't come from the enemy, but from internal rebellions or traitors."
The two looked at me thoughtfully, but they still didn't seem convinced. I sighed.
"Believe me—the enemy is clear. Where they are, where they attack from, how many they are, their state of readiness—once those are known, proper preparations can be made. But if you're on the verge of suffering a blow from within, you will lose a war you were close to winning, and suffer a crushing defeat. You should know better than I the hatred between the kingdoms of Vaegir and Swadia. Do you think the Swadians, who were brawling just two days ago, will aim their crossbows at the orcs during battle? Or will they point them at the Vaegirs fighting in the front lines? And do you think the Vaegirs will trust us enough to fight in the front, to take risks to keep the enemy away from us? Can you really count on that?"
The two were stunned for a moment. Kevin asked:
"But there's a common enemy. Why would they attack each other? Isn't that foolish? That would only get us all killed."
Tommy nodded.
"I agree with Kevin, Commander. Forgive me, but I think you're exaggerating this situation a little. With a common enemy at hand, and with us being this close to reuniting with our families, no one would want to risk that."
I looked at the two young men before me. Their way of thinking was mature. One was seventeen, the other nineteen, but both seemed capable of making sound decisions. I would have to keep an eye on them, perhaps assign them as lieutenants under Sam. But… they didn't understand human nature. I spoke calmly.
"You two are thinking logically, but you're underestimating human desire and emotion. With enough anger, hatred, and resentment, logic vanishes. A person can't even think straight anymore. The mind fixates only on what it wants to do, blinded, heedless of consequences."
They still didn't seem convinced. I went on.
"I once encountered such a situation. I was still a recruit back then, new to the army, about to go into battle for the first time. Our squad sergeant was the worst kind of bastard. He loved humiliating people. In my group there was a young man—his father and the sergeant had some old grudge. Something from the past. The sergeant bullied him every chance he got, punished him, humiliated him for no reason. But that young man was an excellent archer, one of the best with a crossbow in the group. The sergeant wanted him to serve as infantry under his command, but the young man wanted to join the archer unit. The sergeant used his influence to force him into the infantry. Sick bastard…
In the Empire there's a tradition: before recruits are divided into companies, they must make their first kill. A kind of rite of passage. So we went on a raid—supposedly a bandit raid. A simple mission. But during the attack we discovered those 'bandits' were actually marauders sent by Sturgia. The fight grew fierce. Instead of petty raiders, we were facing warriors from Sturgia.
Now, vile as the sergeant was, he was skilled in battle. He held off the enemy leader. They fought one-on-one. The sergeant had the upper hand—until that young man he had bullied and tormented shot him with an arrow. The sergeant turned in shock, staring at the boy lowering his bow—but that was his last look. The enemy leader split the sergeant's head with his axe. Even so, the leader was wounded, and the young man killed him too. He used two different arrows: he killed the sergeant with a Sturgian arrow, and the enemy leader with an Imperial one. Clever."
The two listened, showing mixed emotions. Kevin asked:"What happened to that young man?"
I shrugged.
"He stayed in the army. He was lucky—I was the only one who saw. But I didn't expose him. I announced that he was the one who had slain both the enemy leader and the sergeant's killer. From that day on he became a close friend of mine. Even if we served in different units, whenever we met, we always shared a drink and talked."
The two looked stunned. Kevin, with excitement—
"But he committed a crime! He should have been executed! Killing his own commander in battle is a grave offense! Why did you protect him?"
"Because that sergeant was a worthless bastard. He deserved death to the very end. Besides, you've already met that young man."
The two of them froze in shock. Kevin asked,
"Who?"
I answered calmly,
"That handsome bastard Apollo, the one currently tracking outside."
Their jaws dropped. I placed my hands on their shoulders, gave them a light squeeze, and grinned before continuing.
"Forget about Apollo for now. That was just a small example, a situation that arose because of something trivial. Now think about people who truly hate each other. Do you think they'll act rationally?"
Both shook their heads in denial. Kevin spoke,
"Commander, what else did we overlook?"
Tommy waited silently for my answer, and I didn't keep them waiting long.
"The third thing is the chain of command. It is the backbone of any army, any unit, or any group. We've only just met. We're not from the same civilization, not even the same era. You respect my rank and the rank of my comrades, but you don't fully trust us. And trust… trust takes time. We, in turn, cannot give you one hundred percent of our trust either. We don't know if you'll obey our orders to the letter in the middle of a battle. And in war, such uncertainty is dangerous. One wrong move could lead to our downfall. Of course, depending on the orcs' tactical abilities, the situation might change. But you understand what I mean, don't you?"
They nodded, looking a little ashamed, but it was the truth. I went on.
"The fourth factor is the element of surprise."
They looked stunned, not understanding what I meant. Tommy asked curiously,
"… Forgive me, Commander, but the element of surprise applies during ambushes or raids. In this case, the enemy holds that factor. We are on the defensive side."
I grinned and spoke in a calm tone.
"You're wrong, Tommy. The element of surprise can be used in many ways. You just have to know how to wield it. Right now, no one knows about our current situation except a select few. That means we can appear completely normal. If the orcs are indeed watching us and preparing for an ambush, then by giving them the impression that we're unprepared, we'll lure them straight into our trap."
The two of them stared at me in disbelief. Kevin asked,
"How?"
I opened my mouth to explain.
"Like this—"
But before I could continue, I heard the rapid sound of footsteps. Looking to the side, I saw Veagir warriors approaching. They came up to me and saluted. These were the same two who had gone with Apollo this morning. My brows furrowed as I asked, cold and composed,
"Where are Apollo and Jeros?"
The older, broad-shouldered, brown-haired one spoke.
"Commander! I bring urgent news from Commander Apollo!"
The warrior gave a strange look to the two men beside me, but I ignored it. The moment I heard it was news from Apollo, my frown deepened and a dark premonition gripped my chest.
"Go on."
"We encountered orcs in the eastern part of the camp. According to Commander Apollo's observations, there are eleven of them, all armed, and the equipment is confirmed to be of Mordor craftsmanship. Commander Apollo stayed behind to determine whether they were tribal or legion orcs, and he will continue his surveillance. He requested reinforcements. We also informed Commander Renault on the way. After confirming his area was clear, he will join Commander Apollo."
And so, what I feared came to pass. Our first clash with the orcs came much sooner than I anticipated. I only hope Kios speeds up. After taking a deep breath, I asked,
"Were there any warg riders?"
"Not yet."
"I see."
Good. Warg riders are swift—masters of tracking, detection, and scent. For now, Apollo and his team are safe. I turned to the two young men beside me. They looked serious.
"You two return to your unit and stand by. In case of emergency, you must ensure your group organizes quickly."
"YES, COMMANDER!" they both shouted in unison.
The pair rushed off. I then turned to the two warriors at my side. Looking at the one on the left, I ordered,
"You! Go to Kios immediately. Report the situation and have him speed up the trap preparations."
"AS YOU COMMAND!"
He dashed off the moment he finished speaking. I looked at the other warrior.
"You go straight to Konex and inform him of the situation. Tell him to send reinforcements to Apollo. Also, place a man on the walls every three meters. Have them keep their eyes wide open and stay vigilant against incoming attacks. Give them the shields Apollo brought."
"AS YOU COMMAND!"
He too rushed off. I looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, and faint stars were beginning to show. Haaah… our first battle in this world came far too early. In a way, this is my fault, but there's nothing I can do. Without cavalry, reconnaissance is difficult. And I already have so few elite units—I can't leave them wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar world. Now I must prepare…
Be careful, Apollo. Don't you dare die on me.
—Apollo's Point of View—
AAAHH-CHOOO!
AAAHH-CHOOO!
Jeros clamped his hand over my mouth in terror.
"Shhhhhh! Commander, be careful! You nearly scared me to death just now!"
Both of us quickly turned our gaze toward the Orcs. Thankfully, they hadn't heard anything; some were still snoring like beasts. I let out a sigh of relief. Sixty meters lay between us, enough to muffle the sound. With embarrassment, I scratched the back of my head.
"Sorry, sorry. Maybe a beautiful woman just thought of me! What can I say? Being handsome is a heavy burden."
Jeros shot me a sharp glare and exhaled.
"How much longer are we going to sit here observing? Let's just get down there and slaughter them all."
"For now, we wait. They're bound to meet with a messenger sooner or later. Once they do, we'll tail him and see where he goes. Until then, there's nothing we can do."
As we spoke, our eyes never left the camp. Well… calling it a camp was an exaggeration. Still, we were careful. I had smeared the men with mud and brush, and to mask our scent, we even covered ourselves with dung we'd found. The soldiers had resisted furiously, but in the end, I convinced them.
—One Hour Earlier—
A Vaegir warrior had shouted in protest.
"Over my dead body! I'd sooner cut my own throat than smear that filth on me!"
Jeros panicked as well.
"Absolutely not! Commander, please! We don't even know what kind of dung this is! What if it's from an Orc!?"
I had answered with calm conviction.
"Even better. We don't know how the messenger will arrive. If he comes riding a Warg, they'll catch our scent instantly. And we don't know how many of them there'll be. If we want to survive, shut your mouths and smear it on."
I pointed at the black pile of dung before us. The stench was so vile it nearly made me vomit; even flies avoided it.
"I don't like this any more than you do, but what choice do we have? Unless you want to die, do as I say!"
Reluctantly, I shoved my hand into the dung. Even with leather gloves, the sensation was revolting—squelching, sticky, slimy, foul. I told myself, Apollo, this is mud. Just mud. I took a deep breath—and instantly regretted it. The stench filled my lungs like poison. Gritting my teeth, I smeared the dung with lightning speed across the bodies of my two unfortunate comrades.
"COMMANDER!" they cried in unison.
—End of Flashback—
What can I say? When survival is on the line, humans can do anything… Wait a second—when I sneezed, did Jeros… cover my mouth with his hand? Did he actually—? NO! Ugh! I'm going to be sick! I barely held it down, my stomach rebelling violently. Years of discipline and military experience were the only things keeping me from retching all over the ground. I ignored the sharpened stench still lingering in my nostrils.
I swung my fist into Jeros' helmeted head.
BANG!
He staggered, clutching his head. Even through his helmet, he definitely felt that one. With a low, angry whisper, he growled at me:
"What the hell are you doing!?"
My own voice was a deadly whisper, dripping with fury.
"You idiot! How could you cover my mouth with your hand?! You smeared that filth right into my mouth!"
Jeros froze, staring down at his hand. Then, slowly, shame crept into his face and he gave a sheepish smile.
"Hehehe… sorry… I forgot."
"FORGOT!? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW!?"
My stomach lurched again, but I forced it down. I stumbled back, glaring at him.
"Jeros! I'll deal with you later! Watch yourself—piss off a marksman and you'll learn the meaning of wrath! Keep observing until I return. I need to wash my face and mouth—if this stench and taste linger, I'll vomit during the mission!"
Jeros trembled with fear.
I resisted the urge to shove the dung straight into his mouth and instead turned on my heel, heading toward the stream. I scanned the area to make sure it was clear before approaching. Removing my helmet and gloves, I plunged my face into the water, scrubbing and rinsing over and over. For half an hour I washed, gagged, and even vomited twice before I finally felt human again. Emptying my stomach left me drained, but I was a soldier. Such inconveniences were mere details.
Time couldn't be wasted. Infantrymen didn't have the sharp eyes of archers. Quickly drying off, I smeared my face with mud once more, coated my gloves, then gathered flowers, crushing the most fragrant ones between my hands. Only then did I return to my eternal nemesis, Jeros.
But something was wrong—the air was tense. Dropping low, I crept beside him and whispered almost inaudibly.
"What's the situation?"
Jeros' reply was barely a breath.
"…You were right, Commander."
He pointed, and I saw them. Wargs—massive beasts the size of horses, with savage fangs, yellow eyes gleaming, saliva dripping from their jaws, their thick fur bristling. Upon their backs rode Orcs in medium armor.
I hit the dirt, lying flat, the men copying me. Calmly, I muttered:
"Damn. I wish I'd been wrong… Following Warg riders will be nearly impossible without horses. Even if we somehow trail them to their destination, the return trip will take too long. And we don't even know where they're gathering."
Jeros listened intently before asking,
"So what do we do?"
Staring at the Orcs below, I considered.
"…There's only one option. But we'll need Leon's approval."
"And that is?"
"We capture one of the Orc scouts alive. And make him talk."
Jeros flinched.
"But that'll ruin the element of surprise."
"Which is why we need Leon's decision. He's our commander. Let him find the solution. I trust him—he'll come up with the right plan. Besides, Queen Rhegae herself was preparing him to be a general."
Jeros' eyes widened, his whisper rising in shock.
"Commander Leon was going to be a general!?"
I silenced him instantly.
"Shhh—"
The Wargs turned toward us, snarling. We froze. Not a twitch. I could feel the sweat dripping from Jeros. Fifteen Orcs in full gear stood before us, not counting the Warg riders. We were only three men. If they noticed us, our survival was nearly hopeless. For several agonizing seconds, the Wargs stared our way. Then, finally, they turned back. The Orcs on their backs didn't care. Their leader—an Orc I assumed was the warg rider commander—was speaking with the scouts.
I glanced at Jeros; he met my look with embarrassment.
"Yes. Leon was trained by the queen herself to become a general. All my colleagues knew it. Leon doesn't realize it, but when he left the battlefield, he was already a legend. But that's not our concern right now. We'll wait for the Wargs to leave, then I'll send word to Leon. You and your man pull back immediately—fall back one kilometer and inform Renault. If he comes without masking his scent, the whole operation is finished."
"Understood."
Jeros gave his comrade a nod, and the man silently withdrew. As the two of them retreated, I fixed my eyes on the Orcs like a hawk tracking its prey. I knew I'd be watching these vile creatures for some time. We'd have to identify their leader, capture him, and interrogate him.
…Haaah. I already missed my warm bed.