In the pre-dawn hours, human soldiers rose from their beds, assembling and preparing their meals. They were acutely aware of the battle looming ahead, filling the air with tension and silence. Most ate in near-total quiet, their heads bowed over their bowls.
Hundreds of pigs, chickens, ducks, fish, and sheep had been slaughtered, their fat-laden meat distributed into the wooden bowls of Middenland's soldiers. While many were pleasantly surprised to receive such a hearty meal before battle, the heavy mood remained. The extra rations were not just a rare treat; they were also an ominous sign of the difficulty of the coming fight. For some, this could very well be their last meal.
Better to eat their fill while they still could.
On the other side of the camp, the Old Guard prepared their own breakfast.
Their meal was a far cry from the greasy fare of Middenland's conscripts. When Raymon, commander of the halberd regiment, ventured over to inspect the Middenland soldiers' breakfast, he returned thoroughly disgusted by the sight of chunks of pure fat.
Back at the Old Guard's camp, soldiers lined up for a much more luxurious feast. Several Old Guard veterans fried steak in tandem, creating an impressive sight with over a hundred sizzling cuts. Others busily cooked vegetables and eggs.
The breakfast menu for the Old Guard was rich and balanced: avocado, Black Forest sausage, fried eggs, creamy bread rolls, mushroom cream soup, a generous portion of grilled chicken breast, a 220-gram Avelian steak, a heaping spoonful of onion and cabbage salad, and a large glass of goat's milk for each soldier.
The lavish spread was enough to make the mouths of Middenland's soldiers water with envy and resentment.
This disparity in rations posed no logistical strain for Ryan's forces. The Empire was responsible for providing supplies for this grand expedition. As the commanding general, Ryan merely needed to press the Empire for provisions, which they couldn't deny. Bretonnia had committed troops as part of the alliance without demanding excessive funds or signing unequal treaties, a gesture of good faith and respect for their pact.
The Bretonnian knightly nobility also saw value in accommodating the Empire. After all, maintaining the Empire as a stronghold against Chaos was critical to the stability of the Old World. Should the Empire fall, the entire continent would be plunged into catastrophe.
"Eat up, Raymon," Bertrand, commander of the Old Guard, said as he approached with a large iron plate. "Today, we're up against a coalition of Beastmen and Greenskins. You'll need your strength to win this war."
Raymon smiled as he noticed Bertrand had grabbed an extra fried egg. "Every time we face a new enemy, and every time, we win. This time, it's the Greenskins and Beastmen's turn to suffer."
"Exactly. Let's give them hell!"
Ryan himself entered the camp, flanked by Grail Knights. The King of Knights had clearly enjoyed a hearty breakfast and addressed the soldiers warmly. "Today's battle will pit us against overwhelming numbers. Obey my commands, check your weapons after breakfast, and be ready!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
An hour later, outside Middenstang Castle.
The human army assembled, and their commanders established a temporary headquarters at the front line.
A thick fog blanketed the battlefield as Morgiana led the Prophetesses of the Lady in chanting collective spells. The Lady's divine power shimmered across the battlefield, concealing the human forces within the dense mist.
"Stick to the plan," Ryan instructed. "Louen, you'll lead 5,000 troops and guard our rear. The Beastmen will almost certainly attempt a flanking attack to disrupt us. Hold Ontregard Castle at all costs—it's fortified and well-armed with artillery. Success there will be a major contribution."
"Rest assured, Your Majesty. Any Beastmen trying to flank us will meet their end," Louen responded confidently before leaving with his troops.
"Prince Emil, Lord Tuggenheim, you're to begin the offensive. Veronica has already prepared the magical formations. The Greenskins won't notice our large-scale mobilization in this fog. Take the initiative, but don't overcommit. Draw the enemy in, then strike hard!"
"We understand perfectly," Emil Wagel, the Great Ulric, and White Wolf Paladin Tuggenheim replied as they departed, with Veronica following close behind.
"Aurora, Theresa, are you ready?" Ryan asked next.
"The river can be thawed at any moment," Aurora and Theresa confirmed.
"Good. Wait for my signal to unleash it at the critical moment," Ryan instructed. The sorceress mother and daughter duo departed to prepare their magic.
"Sir Berchmond, Sir Hagen, keep your knights hidden and ready. Attack only on my command. Do not act without orders."
"Understood, Your Majesty!" Berchmond and Hagen replied before leaving with their squadrons.
"Marshal Heinrich, Count Hex, your task is to hold the line and remain vigilant. Do not attack without my orders. You'll have support from Dugan Ironhand's Blackpowder Brotherhood and Dayes's Ranger Division for long-range firepower."
"Understood." Heinrich and Hex nodded and left to position their troops.
"And what about Axel and me?" Boris Toddbringer approached. "Are we just to stand here and watch?"
"Patience, Boris," Ryan said, his gaze fixed on the sky. "The sun will rise soon. Morgiana, you can end the spell now."
"End it now?" Morgiana hesitated. "The fog conceals and empowers our army."
"Yes, but now we need the sun," Ryan replied calmly. "The fog is for the trap; the sun is for the victory. Beastmen despise sunlight, and the Greenskin spiders loathe it even more. They'll be forced to fight us under the sun."
The thick fog dissipated, revealing a rare break in the snowy Middenland skies. Faint sunlight illuminated the battlefield, providing a fragile warmth. Cheers erupted from the human army, especially among the Bretonnians, who had endured harsh cold and damp throughout the expedition. Seeing the sun lifted their spirits immensely.
"They're praising the sun, Your Majesty," Bertrand chuckled. "You don't see that in Bretonnia."
"Indeed," Ryan laughed. "Bretonnia's mild, rainy climate makes the sun a less celebrated sight. But today, it's a good omen."
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Ryan declared, his voice rising. "The grand symphony is about to begin. Everyone, take your instruments. Drummers, sound the advance. No need to hide anymore!"
"Boom... boom... boom-boom-boom..."
Southwest of Middenstang, Snagla Spit-Tongue, the Spider King, perched atop his colossal Arachnarok Queen. The Goblin Warlord watched the dissipating fog reveal the human forces.
The Middenland army advanced proudly under blue-and-white wolfhead banners. Teutonic Knights and foot-mounted White Wolf Paladins led the vanguard, clad in heavy armor and wolf pelts. Their ranks marched in disciplined rows, gleaming steel forming an unbroken line under the dim sunlight.
Excitedly, Snagla shrieked prayers to the Spider God, urging his army forward.
"Advance, lads! Crush those shiny wolf-skinned shrimps—they must be the legendary Teutonic Guard! For the Spider God! For the Black Pit!"
From the forest canopy, spiders rained down like hail, ridden by Goblin Spider Riders. Alongside them surged hordes of Savage Orcs wielding primitive bone spears and flint axes, charging like a tidal wave.
"How many of them are there? Ten times, twenty times, thirty times our numbers?" Great Ulric Emil asked White Wolf Paladin Tuggenheim within the Teutonic ranks.
"It doesn't matter how many. That's not your concern," Emil said gravely, raising his Wolf God Hammer. "Now, sons of Ulric, it's time to show your discipline and resolve. No matter their numbers, march forward! If I order a retreat, fall back in formation as planned!"
"Yes, sir!"
The disciplined Middenland troops advanced steadily under the blaring horns and pounding drums.
"Perfect," Ryan remarked from the distant command post, binoculars in hand. "The opening act is always beautiful."
As the two armies closed the distance, the Greenskins unleashed a chaotic hail of arrows. Crude and inaccurate, the arrows nonetheless forced the Teutonic Guard and White Wolf Paladins to pause, some soldiers falling under the onslaught. Slowly, the Middenlanders began a calculated retreat.
The Greenskins, emboldened, charged recklessly. Savage Orcs and Goblins surged forward, oblivious to the trap.
The moment they reached the ambush zone, the sky darkened unnaturally.
On the ridge, Veronica and her Garland Council unleashed a devastating spell. Meteors of fire rained down, annihilating thousands of Greenskins in a fiery cataclysm. Smoke and ash engulfed the battlefield, leaving carnage in its wake.
"Your turn, Boris, Axel," Ryan said calmly. "Sweep the Beastmen from the front. Berchmond and Hagen will follow to support."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Ryan grinned coldly.
"Spider King of Drakwald? Supreme Beastlord?
Today, none of you will escape."
_________________________
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