We set out at dawn. Together with Valeria and all the Green Generals, we turned westward toward the villages that had ignored the summons. The punitive expedition had begun — and it would continue until every single tribe knelt before the Goblin Queen.
"All units! Forward!" the silver-haired woman called, raising her black blade high so hundreds of goblins could see it.
The forest greeted us with thick, heavy air. Sunlight barely filtered through the dense canopy. Moisture hung like a wet curtain. The smell of resin, rotting leaves, damp soil and the sweat of thousands of marching bodies filled everything. To me, there was something else underneath — a metallic, sharp note, as though something sinister lurked nearby. My heads caught it instinctively even when reason told me to ignore it.
We advanced like a serpent, winding along narrow, twisting paths. More than three thousand warriors, carts, and porters tried to maintain something that only in name resembled a column. In reality, the march stretched over five kilometers, breaking and slowing at every difficult stretch.
The wagons struggled. Protruding roots, tightly packed trees, and deep ruts forced constant halts. Curses, snapping branches, and the dull thump of wheels against stones blended with the monotonous, exhausting rhythm of hundreds of feet and clinking weapons. Borg rode ahead with two hundred cavalry as our vanguard — my decision, which Valeria accepted.
Gyrd had spread scouts in a wide fan on both flanks. We already knew six villages lay scattered along streams and low hills in this region. One had been taken almost without a fight by Gyrd's scouts even before we arrived. That knowledge brought me no calm whatsoever.
Again and again, fragments of reports reached us about strange tracks. Apparently, enemy scouts were prowling the woods, though no one could say how many or whom exactly they served.
I knew almost nothing about this territory and could not shake the feeling that unseen eyes followed our every step. Every snapped twig and sudden movement in the undergrowth made my neck tense reflexively. Nothing happened, though. Reality is not a computer game where you can nibble at the enemy and run away thanks to artificial advantages.
Valeria rode in her palanquin several hundred paces behind me, biting into an apple and chatting with Mago. Every so often, she sent someone with messages or orders.
Cunning woman. She had dumped all the dirty work on me. It also turned out she didn't need to live off my blood at all — she ate like a normal being and felt perfectly fine. That irritated me far more than I wanted to admit. I was already thoroughly annoyed when one of Doirak's men — broad-shouldered, face criss-crossed with scars — ran up and announced in a gravelly voice:
"Great Artax! The Kahtoo tribe lies one hour ahead. Her Majesty commands you to surround the village and deliver the ultimatum to their chieftain: Submit to the will of Zod or fertilize the soil!" He finished by slamming the haft of his long axe against the ground. Or fertilize the soil.
How poetic. Valeria was clearly in an excellent mood today. I only hoped it would not end worse than at the river or beneath the fortress. Twice I had let emotion carry me away like some naive fool. That was more than enough. This time I decided to stay back. If some monstrous abomination appeared again, let the goblins handle it. I would watch from a safe distance.
I kept my promise. By the time I approached the miserable village — whose palisade a goblin could have vaulted over at a run — Borg had already smashed inside with his riders on wolves and boars.
All I could hear were whimpers of terror and crying. There were perhaps fifty old goblins and she-goblins inside — starved to the bone, emaciated.
"O great servant of Zod, please have mercy on my fellow tribesmen… Shoma the Troll Tamer took our warriors and forbade us to move east… We are only gatherers and pig-breeders… Please, at least spare my children… I beg you… and the vampire queen…" The gray-haired goblin — short and so weak I could barely hear him — pressed his face to the dirt and did not dare look up.
I thought to myself that this must be what real war looks like from the perspective of those who have nothing to do with it.
"Insolence!" I roared. "You are not worthy to kiss the boots of our queen! How dare you demand anything!? Your role is to bare your neck and await death!" The aura of the allied goblins beside me shivered; even they flinched. "The Chosen of the Ancient Behemoths defeated the mighty shaman-warrior Hakku and defeated the wild dungeon! Only for the sake of her great mission to unite all goblins and hobgoblins do I refrain from devouring you and your entire tribe. From this day forward, this land belongs to Valeria Nocturne and the southern goblin alliance!"
Somehow, it worked. I could not afford to appear weak. In the end, I saved face and the village survived. The settlement lay beside a stream at the foot of a hill that offered a good view of the surroundings — perfect as a forward base and rest stop after the long march. I gathered three of the five Green Generals. Gyrd was still scouting, while Mago trailed behind with Valeria and the reserves.
"Divide our forces into detachments of three hundred warriors each and subjugate the nearest villages. Your people are not to kill without need or plunder. Have them gather information and conserve strength. The real battle lies ahead. May the God of the Sword and the God of Darkness be with us. For the glory of Zod! Forward, my warriors!"
"For the glory of Zod!" they shouted back, visibly pleased with the quick progress.
When the dust settled and the orders spread, several of them returned with sour expressions, as though something troubled them deeply. Most of our present strength had already marched off to subdue enemy villages. Only a small number remained in the settlement. Sitting in the largest so-called house and thinking things over, I watched many goblins file inside. Zoggo, Borg, Doirak and several of their most trusted lieutenants stood before me. Each looked as though he wanted to speak.
The famous spearman stepped forward first. Unfazed by my presence, he snorted:
"Hmm! You are too soft as war chief. We should have at least slit their chieftain's throat. If rumors of your mercy spread to every tribe, some may grow bold enough to fight. Fear is the best medicine against weaklings. It is the only thing that guides them…" Zoggo slammed the butt of his spear into the ground and scowled. I remembered Zod's words and had to admit — at least partly — that he had a point. But a leader's authority was also at stake. I could not simply agree with everything!
"When you walk through the forest, do you crush every ant beneath your feet? Do you bother with every fly? This pathetic village is proof that those who join us need not fear death. We will crush the Troll Tamer, and all the tribes will submit. The weak follow the strong… Are you not strong, Zoggo!?"
The burly goblin growled, somewhat flustered, as though trying to rearrange something in his small goblin brain. Eventually, he stepped back and grudgingly conceded that my hastily improvised lecture made sense. If word spread that we slaughtered and burned everything in our path, we might only stiffen local resistance and waste far more lives than necessary. Like the Germans on the Eastern Front in the Second World War or some other unnecessarily brutal armies…
"Anyone else have remarks? Don't be afraid. You are my Green Generals — I want to hear your opinions," I said, hoping they would drop the subject.
We waited for Valeria. She was sure to have a finished plan already. She always did.
"War Chief. Would it not be better to march straight for the Troll Tamer's village? These hamlets mean nothing. The enemy is only gaining time," Doirak suddenly said — a very reasonable point I had to acknowledge. I nodded. I waited. Wind rustled the leaves. Someone swallowed audibly.
"And then what? Stretch our lines thin? March blindly into the unknown? What if the enemy is waiting in ambush? Our spies report we hold a three-to-one numerical advantage. Why rush, Doirak Ironside?" He gave no reply — only bowed and stepped back.
For a moment, I caught a glint in his eye. Perhaps he appreciated my Total War series-style reasoning after all. I thought the matter was settled.
"Weird nonsense! We can kill them from an ambush too. We outnumber them three to one. Are you a coward!?"
I lashed my tail. The atmosphere turned hot. Several warriors began shoving each other.
I unleashed [Roar]. For a moment, the room fell silent. Some dropped to their knees. A familiar aura approached from outside — I felt it long before she entered.
The Queen arrived unharmed, accompanied by Mago and many veteran warriors from the reserve army. "I see you're having fun!" she called, patting an enraged Borg on the head as though he were a sulky child. She stood a head taller than the huge hobgoblin. "Excellent work, Artax! You exceeded my expectations! Exactly what I hoped for from my commander-in-chief."
What the hell was this woman playing at!? Was she performing for them, or had I actually done something right?
I did not have her two hundred years of study in the art of war. I was afraid to admit ignorance in front of everyone. So I puffed out my chest and bowed. "You are too kind to your humble servant, Chosen of the Behemoths… I am unworthy of such praise…"
Then suddenly, war horns blared. Shouts and orders echoed through the village.
"Form ranks! Spears forward, archers to the rear!"
Borg, Zoggo, and Doirak looked from me to Valeria in shock.
She smiled and unrolled a scrap of paper covered in strange signs.
"Warning! Shoma is charging from the west with all his strength. One thousand warriors and his troll are heading straight for War Chief Artax…" she read lazily, smiling here and there. I froze.
I had sent our best troops to worthless villages, and this madwoman found it hilarious!? What was her game!?
"Fortunately, Zyrd's falcon is faster and I arrived ahead of them. The strongest three hundred from the reserve marched with me. You did well, Artax. Surely you quite deliberately sent away our finest troops in order to provoke that fool into a suicidal attack… correct?" She winked, forcing a smile.
I wanted to sink into the ground.
"Good job! Now, I will personally deal with Shoma. His conscripted villagers will break and scatter the moment he falls… We're in for an interesting afternoon."
By then, the war horns sounded much closer.
Powerful auras — mostly green, plus one very distinct brown — approached from behind the hill.
We hurried to good positions on the hill and peered toward the enemy. Valeria stood beside me, she let the crown in the fortress, but fully armored, black sword already in hand. A huge troll — perhaps five meters of muscle and fat clutching what looked like a snapped tree trunk — charged madly forward.
On its neck rode a fat goblin with wild, waist-length hair.
Many tribes marched behind, huddled tight, sheltering from Gyrd's archers' arrows behind a wall of shields. I looked at the troll.
[Level: 63
Threat: DEADLY]
Where did such a monster come from in the middle of nowhere!?
"So that's the Troll Tamer!?" I asked.
Valeria grinned, showing white fangs.
"And here I was afraid today would be boring!"