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"Today... maybe none of us will survive. But history will remember you and me! We hold onto our honor and our beliefs!" Roland stared each and every citizen of Lagrand down.
"Maybe! The banner of Lagrand will fall! Maybe! The Empire will never rise again! Maybe! People will forget our names! But today, I want you to charge with me! Charge into hell! Charge into death! Charge into the end of the world!" Roland roared.
"For the glory of the Empire! Kill!" Roland raised his Dragon-Slaying Sword high, and the crowd instantly erupted.
"Sound the warhorn! Tell those scraps down there... the King of Lagrand has arrived!" Roland glanced over at Kaslo.
"Here!" Kaslo respectfully bowed his head and pulled out a war-dragon horn from his chest pouch. This thing was a rare artifact Roland got from signing in somewhere—yeah, a weird game mechanic—but it seriously pumped up morale, so Roland just tossed it to Kaslo.
"Woom~" Unlike the crisp sound of an Elven horn or the sharp call of a Dwarf horn, this one blasted a deep, piercing bass note that cut across the battlefield. Even Azog on Raven Ridge squinted.
Boom boom boom! Heavy footsteps thundered along with the low horn blast across the entire battlefield.
In the eastern sunlight, a dazzling gleam flashed. Silhouettes appeared atop the hill, a giant red banner with a golden dragon fluttering in the wind...
"Huh? Who are they?" Azog muttered, puzzled.
"That's... the Lord of Lagrand? Roland?" Bard, who'd been clinging to a watchtower, immediately spotted the unmistakable flag.
"Oh! It's Sir Roland!" Bilbo recognized the dragon banner too.
"There's hope yet. The mysterious lord finally brought his army..." Gandalf smiled knowingly — he'd already guessed something like this would happen.
"Roland! They're alive!" The dwarves in Irubor city waved excitedly toward the east.
"Who are they?" Thranduil stared at the unfamiliar banner.
"Aha! Kids, reinforcements have arrived!" Ironfoot Dain bellowed, watching the advancing steel forest.
...
"Here we are..." Reno suddenly started singing softly.
Roland on his warhorse blinked — oh right, back in the day, the official Lord of the Rings game got the rights to StarSky as Lagrand's anthem to honor the entire Hobbit and LOTR series. Ever since, this song had been the soundtrack for Lagrand's soldiers.
"Riding the sky, painting the night with sun..." Soon, knights beside him joined in.
Hooves hit the ground in rhythm, their pace lightening. Led by Roland and Reno, a hundred Lagrand knights spurred into a gallop. A holy aura enveloped them — the two paladins' combined blessing covered the entire squad, while they waved their hands to cast divine inspiration on the Swift infantry and Bardania archers too.
As they surged forward, the Bardania archers appeared behind the knights, riding armored Shire horses, their silver bows drawn, eyes burning with deadly focus. Riding alongside, they flanked the Swift infantry, who charged downhill in formations of 30 by 10, shield and pike raised.
Amid countless terrified eyes, a dragon roar shattered the battlefield's cheers... Dragonrider Kaslo was here!
"A dragon! No—it's a four-legged wyvern!" Thranduil gasped at the dragon saddle strapped behind Kaslo.
"Roar!" Storm's Edge blade burst from the wind dragon's breath, twisting wind elementals exploded on the ground, carving a bloody trail tens of meters long.
"Kill!" Amid a hail of arrows, Roland's knights charged like a wall into the orcs' flank. The hastily arranged orcish defenses crumbled under the thunder of lances—over two hundred orcs skewered on 102 lances.
Iron hooves trampled recklessly; orcs screamed as they were ground to pulp under the knights' charge—blood, guts, and flesh splattered over their helmets. Through his visor, Roland saw the world bleed red—but still, the knights pressed on. Some lances were already hung with nearly ten twitching orc corpses, but the knights tossed the heavy weapons aside and drew swords, relentless in their charge...
Boom! Kaslo dove down from the sky, his dragon spear crackling with concentrated storm energy, slamming into a group of shield-bearing orcs. The devastating wind-elemental blast shattered their "turtle shells," shredding flesh, breaking bones, and ripping through armor and shields...
"No!" Azog on Raven Ridge roared in fury. The dwarves, once pushed to the brink, were rallying again thanks to the sudden new army.
Above, Kaslo continued to dive, sending blessings of wind blades and dragon spears down on the orcs below.
Obscure draconic words echoed, and swirling wind elements gathered around Kaslo's dragon...
"Get clear! Dragon speech magic!" Thranduil shouted urgently beneath Kaslo.
Humans and elves ducked into houses just in time, as a massive tornado of blue-green wind was whipped up by the wyvern's wings—a powerful spell Kaslo had mastered: the Storm Twister! Guided by the dragon's mind, the whirlwind swept along the valley walls, tearing through orcs caught inside. The spinning blades shredded orcs limb from limb until the storm faded, leaving the swirling winds stained blood-red... chunks of meat fell from the sky.
Meanwhile, Roland and the knights smashed through the orcs assaulting the dwarves. The orc army was sliced in half from left to right, with at least a thousand orcs trampled under their hooves. The knights had only spent less than a quarter of their battle energy.
"Turn around! Charge again!" Roland yelled, facing the new wave of orcs rushing like a tide.
...
"Burn the page for me, I cannot erase the time of sleep, I cannot be loved so set me free, I cannot deliver you your love..." The Swift infantry sang their battle hymn as they crashed into the orc horde. Screams echoed everywhere, and the spearmen slammed their pikes forward and back, dragging out bloody black blood. Their song was fierce and unyielding — they were swift, fearless, and unstoppable.
Bardania archers protected the fragile temple priest Ivy, hanging back behind the Swift infantry. Their task was to clear orcs from the flanks with deadly accuracy and rapid fire, successfully suppressing orc advances on both sides.
The Holy Radiant Knights met the swift infantry like a roaring torrent. Roland slashed orcs aside and barked orders.
"Push fast to Rivervale!" he commanded coldly.
"Yes, sir!" The infantry took advantage of the breach the knights carved out, rushing through before the orcs could encircle them.
Roland had thought this through — with the knights' mobility, the Bardania archers' guerrilla fire, and air superiority from the dragon riders, the dwarves' front was stabilizing. Dwarves lacked damage dealers, not frontline tanks, but the humans and elves holding Rivervale were different. Roland had seen too many dead elven rangers. When elven archers got caught in melee with thick-skinned orcs, it was a disaster. The Swift infantry could fill that melee gap effectively.
Boom boom boom~ The sound of pounding hooves came from Raven Ridge.
"Sir! Orc reinforcements arrived! At least 20,000!" Kaslo flew past Roland quickly, shouting before darting toward Raven Ridge.
"Roar!" Dragon cries of fury as Kaslo and Jandaba's war bats clashed in midair.
"Brothers! Form up! Hold the line!" Seeing the orc flood pouring down like a tidal wave, the Swift infantry shifted direction. They would block the orc reinforcements with their mortal bodies...
Bang! The huge stone wall shattered under a golden bell's blow—the king at the foot of the mountain finally broke free from the dragon's curse.
"Kill!" Thorin Oakshield charged ahead on horseback, dwarves following close behind.
"Hey! Brother, we've been waiting for you! Where the hell have you been?" Ironfoot Dain hugged Thorin happily.
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