Translator: Cinder Translations
...
The Third Infantry Battalion encountered a retreating force.
"Commander, the orc army is approaching rapidly. We must keep retreating."
"But my orders are to hold Silver Moon Fortress."
"Silver Moon Fortress? You mean that pile of rubble? It can't be defended."
Captain Joyce of the Third Infantry Battalion was locked in a heated argument with Sir Henkel, whom he had just encountered.
Henkel was originally a local lord from the Blackstone Pass.
In theory, he should have been the commander of this routed force. But in reality, the panicked soldiers under his banner barely listened to him anymore. Only those he had personally brought from his own territory remained loyal.
"The Royal Knights? Maybe they're behind me, or maybe... they're already wiped out. It's also possible they've retreated to a safer zone in the west. I have no idea where they are. The orcs have split us apart, cutting off all communication."
"The orcs are right on our heels. Until Crystal Glare sends reinforcements, I refuse to engage them."
After expressing his pessimistic outlook, Henkel mounted his horse and left in haste.
Joyce was disappointed. He had hoped to leverage Henkel's rank to rally more of the scattered soldiers for the upcoming battle.
Now, he could only rely on himself.
The Third Infantry Battalion set up a checkpoint at a crossroads to collect retreating troops. By that evening, including the kingdom's soldiers already stationed at Silver Moon Fortress, Joyce's forces had swelled to nearly 2,000 men.
To ensure these soldiers were fed, Joyce "borrowed" rations from nearby villages.
However, the quartermaster issued promissory notes to every person they borrowed from, promising repayment at 10% above market price after the war.
This strategy had been pre-approved to prepare for the possibility of supplies running out. Frontline units were authorized to procure provisions through flexible means.
Of course, repayment would only happen if Alden's forces won. From another perspective, to ensure those notes held value, the creditors had a vested interest in Alden's victory.
The soldiers of Alden spent their first day at Silver Moon Fortress in tense activity.
At dawn the next day, scouts reported that a small group of cavalry had entered Silver Moon's territory.
Judging by their appearance, they were undoubtedly orcs.
The invading force, about 1,000 strong, seemed to be conducting reconnaissance.
Joyce immediately ordered his troops to prepare for battle.
After a day and night of work, Alden's forces had built rudimentary defenses in the ruins of Silver Moon Fortress. They used stones to construct a 4-foot-high breastwork, with cheval de frise and spikes as obstacles in front.
Silver Moon Fortress stood on a high slope overlooking a road. The enemy would have no choice but to pass through here.
Stationed behind the breastwork, the soldiers could inflict heavy casualties on the enemy as soon as they entered range.
Eight 6-pound cannons were positioned to provide powerful fire support. Their dark barrels jutted out from the breastwork, ominously aimed at the road below.
If the enemy broke through the defenses despite the heavy fire, Alden's soldiers, armed with bayonets and spears, were ready for close combat.
Everything was set. From a still-standing tower, Joyce set up his telescope and waited for the orcs to arrive.
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"This has been quite the pleasant journey."
Amur, the orc vanguard commander, said to his deputy, Bayar.
"I thought we'd face fierce battles, but the human armies are so weak."
Bayar agreed wholeheartedly. "The Warchief was overly cautious. If we had come here years earlier, perhaps all of Aldor would already be under our cavalry's iron hooves."
Amur sighed, "Instead of this 'touring,' I'd rather face those Crystal Glare warriors. Capturing Aldor's princess would be the greatest achievement of this campaign."
Though Amur commanded only 1,000 cavalry, his orders were clear: penetrate deep into human territory, creating the illusion of an overwhelming orc invasion to sow widespread panic and chaos.
The plan was working perfectly. After hearing of Sunset Valley's defeat, many small lords were already in a state of utter panic. Any sign of orc activity prompted them to abandon their lands, while ordinary civilians were even more terrified.
Bayar looked westward. "You might become the first commander to see Aldor's western coast. That would also be a great honor. I think it won't be long now. The path ahead is so smooth. No lord has dared to oppose us—they just flee..."
He trailed off as he noticed something.
On a high slope ahead, Aldor's banner flew prominently. Next to it was another banner—a red field embroidered with a flying dragon.
"Well, well, Amur, it seems we've found a tough nut to crack."
"Let me see!"
Amur shaded his eyes with one hand to get a better look.
"Ah, my bones are itching. Finally, a real fight! Hey, you, come here!"
Amur summoned his human guide.
"Sir, this is Silver Moon Fortress!"
The guide responded obsequiously, "But I heard the local noble family moved to a town long ago. The castle has been abandoned for years."
"Is that so?" Amur raised an eyebrow. "Those damp, cold human castles aren't fit for living anyway."
He ordered, "Advance and take a closer look."
As the orc cavalry moved forward, they confirmed the guide's words. The castle's main structure had indeed collapsed, leaving only rubble.
However, as they approached, they noticed cheval de frise, spikes, and the low breastwork appearing in their view.
"Hahaha! Do they think these can stop us? How laughable!"
Amur and Bayar burst into laughter.
Their battle plan had been decided long ago—though calling it a "plan" was a bit of an overstatement. It was essentially a tried-and-true tactic: under the cover of arrows, warriors would scale the walls and crush the human defenders.
This tactic had worked flawlessly against the small lords along their path.
Their castles were short, sparsely defended, and easy to conquer.
Tougher opponents were simply bypassed, left for the main force to deal with.
But the ruins ahead clearly didn't qualify as a tough opponent.
"Ah, my hands are itching. I'll lead the charge myself!"
Amur flexed his wrists eagerly.
"Bayar, you'll command the archers."
His deputy accepted the order with enthusiasm.
The orcs began their assault without delay.
(End of the Chapter)
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