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"Lonely Mountain Expedition: Joined. Reward: 10 Bretonnian Archers. Can be recruited anytime."
"Pfft—!" Roland nearly choked on his own spit. What the hell did he just see? The legendary Battanian longbowmen from Mount & Blade—this was some serious modding.
After summoning the ten archers, Roland couldn't help but marvel. Ah… this was too good.
First of all, their class level was insanely high. In the archer ranks, it went: Apprentice Archer → Archer → Marksman → Eagle Eye Archer → Sniper → and at the very top, Starhunter.
Then came the gear… Roland couldn't help drooling. Mithril inner armor covered with silver-inlaid chainmail. In their hands? Mithril Purpleheart bows. On their backs? Fifty starlight steel armor-piercing arrows. On their belts? Mithril dueling swords. Their left arms? Steel bracers. And—this was the part that broke him—they also carried a one-meter-long steel warhammer. Honestly, with all that gear, slap a full plate on them and they'd pass as heavy infantry. Roland really wanted to pull them aside and ask if they remembered they were supposed to be archers. This lineup was giving melee tanks some serious job insecurity…
The archers, maybe noticing his doubts, said nothing. Instead, each nocked an arrow in the dark, let fly, and brought Roland back eleven startled birds for a midnight snack. And yes—eleven—because one arrow skewered two birds. After that, Roland shut his mouth and never again questioned their "job description."
At dawn, Roland was already waiting with his men outside the woods near Hobbiton. His hundred apprentice knights stood in a neat phalanx, while the ten Bretonnian archers mounted their fully kitted Shire warhorses—courtesy of the system. At this point, they looked even more like heavy cavalry. Roland gave up trying to explain. Hide the longbows, and anyone would think these guys were frontline bruisers.
"Hey! Lads! I've been waiting for you forever!" Roland finally spotted the expedition party, strolling in fashionably late.
"One, two, three… fourteen. Good—Bilbo's still missing," Roland counted. Just like in the movie, Mr. Bilbo Baggins hadn't decided to join last night. But he was probably on his way now.
"Are we all here? We're not waiting for Mr. Baggins?" Roland asked.
"No. We're all here. He's not coming," Thorin said flatly.
"Hey, Mr. Roland, your troops look magnificent!" The dwarves piled on the compliments, and even Gandalf looked impressed.
"Thanks. But I still think Bilbo will show up," Roland said, this last part aimed at Thorin.
"Doesn't matter. He'll catch up," Roland muttered, glancing toward Hobbiton. After all, hobbits were famous for their… running skills.
"Oh! By the Forge God! Is that mithril? And adamant? And starlight steel?!" Fili exclaimed.
"Oh, lads, I spent a fortune on their gear. Otherwise I wouldn't be this broke…" Roland replied casually.
Everyone seemed to believe him—no way they could imagine this all came from the system.
"Hey! Wait! Wait up!" A voice came from afar—it was Bilbo, sprinting full tilt.
The Bretonnian archers instantly raised their bows, while a few rearguard knights leveled their lances, ready to pin this speedy little fellow to the dirt.
"Oh! Mr. Baggins! Stand down, he's with us!" Roland called out, recognizing the newcomer.
"Ah, Mr. Roland, hello! Mr. Thorin—I've signed!" Bilbo puffed, holding up the contract.
"Yup. Everything's in order," a few dwarves confirmed after a quick look.
"Then welcome—our 14th member!" Thorin spread his arms wide.
"14th? Wait—then they…" Bilbo pointed at Roland's group in disbelief.
"We're… mercenaries, Mr. Baggins," Roland explained.
"They're getting a different payment," Gandalf added.
"Wizard, what's our route?" Roland asked.
"East Road, over the Misty Mountains, then along the Old Forest Road, following the River Running north to the Lonely Mountain."
"Sounds good. But I doubt the road will be peaceful…" Roland said, staring into the distance.
He knew the plot—plenty of orcs ahead, and eventually, the Battle of the Five Armies.
"Your troops surprise me, sir. I've never seen armor like that…" Thorin said, riding alongside him.
"I'm from the East. This plate armor is unique to our homeland. We lost a war to the Dongyi tribes, and my people now wander the northern lands," Roland improvised quickly. The system's plate looked nothing like Middle-earth armor. The knights were basically tin cans. Only the Bretonnian chainmail looked somewhat normal.
"My lord! Enemy approaching! Orcs!" A Bretonnian archer galloped up with the bad news.
"Did you see clearly? How many?" Roland asked.
"About three hundred!"
"My lord, we should gather the knights. Our strength is in the massed charge—spread out, we're just moving targets," Caslow advised, careful not to reveal his identity as a dragon knight.
"Form up! Crush them under our hooves!" Roland growled. He had troops—he wasn't afraid.
Soon, the woods burst open, spewing hundreds of orcs swinging battered weapons. Roland even spotted a pitchfork in the mix…
"Whew…" Gandalf let out a breath. "At least they're not from the Misty Mountains."
"Don't celebrate yet. Our movements might already be exposed," Roland said coldly.
"Charge! Tear them apart!" Roland drew the Dragon-Slayer Sword and led the attack.
Battle aura flared, wrapping warhorses, armor, and weapons. The knights merged their momentum into one force. Each weapon's aura extended half a meter—this was the difference between cavalry and knights. Linked by aura, they'd share damage and boost each other until the energy was gone. At this moment, they were the Kings of Land Warfare.
Boom—with sickening crunches and tearing sounds, the knights smashed into the orc vanguard. Roland and his men tore through a dozen in seconds. Behind them, the ten Bretonnian archers drew their purpleheart longbows—every shot dropped an orc, arrow through eye or throat. Anyone who slipped past the knights didn't get far.
"So… you lot aren't going to help?" one archer asked the stunned expedition party.
"Uh! Attack!" the dwarves snapped out of it, raising axes, swords, and hammers. Bilbo froze in place, while Gandalf chanted a spell—next second, a fireball the size of a man's head roared overhead and exploded in the orcs' rear ranks.
"Nice! Finally, not the 'battle wizard' from the movies," Roland thought, shooting Gandalf a surprised look.
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