Chapter 2

“This is a nice study. Quite cozy. The fireplace is a nice touch, I should consider having one installed.”

The Skipper raised a thick eyebrow.

“Do Bickenstadt even get snow?”

The Baron shrugged.

“Not really. Still gets chilly from time to time, though.”

“Ain’t as cold as Grossenburg, so I’ve ‘eard.”

“Well, it’s more about relative temperature than raw numbers. We humans have a wider range of temperatures we can adapt to. Anyway, we have much to discuss, I imagine.”

The Skipper grabbed the bottle sitting on his desk and pushed a glass to the Baron.

“Ya drink? Whisky. Made in ‘ouse. Roight beneaf our feet!”

The Baron smiled and gestured to the glass.

“Yes, I do. I do not get much opportunity to have Orc made alcohol. Simply not that popular down south, for whatever reason.”

The Skipper poured whisky in the Baron’s glass and his own.

“Can’t imagine why. I’m quite privy to da stuff m’self. Like da burn.”

The Baron took a sip of his whisky. It was nice. Good burn. Strong, but doesn’t taste like nail polish remover.

“This is quite nice, I will give you that. But, I do prefer my brandy. Poire Lucinde is what I tend to drink nowadays. Very nice.”

The Baron chuckled his usual old man chuckle.

“Though very expensive.”

“As I’d expect from da richest man in da world!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say richest in the world, but I’m getting there. Anyway, let us talk business.”

“Roight, youz is ‘ere for a reason after all. Let me give ya a roight proper introduction.”

The Skipper stood up from his desk and saluted in the Orc fashion. Making a fist with his right and thumping his sternum twice then snapping his hand, now fully straight with the palm facing down, up to his brow.

Judging by the sheer volume of the thump, it seemed that a good Orc salute was done with a lot of force.

Makes sense. Don’t think I’ve seen a single Orc below 6’4.

“I is ‘Mad’ Jack, Skipper o’ London! Da boyz call me ‘Mad’, but I fink I’m plenty nice, personally! Comes from all da foightin’!”

The Baron stood and and gave his crispest Imperial salute, slamming the bottom of his right fist to his heart and the top of his left fist to the small of his back.

“I am Baron Johan von Bickenstadt, Baron of both Bickenstadt and Holenstadt. Head of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company. Known simply as The Baron.”

“Great to officially meet ya, Baron von Bickenstadt. You know, I’z actually a fan of youz. Klarwasser is great! You and dat ofer git georg is da only gitz from da Empire dat I like! Youz ‘ead one of the legendary mercs of our age! Right next to da Noight Parade and my ‘Ard Boyz.”

The Baron nodded his head in thanks.

“It’s an honor to hear that from the most accomplished mercenaries in the known world.”

Jack smiled a massive smile. From what he could see, it looked like Orcs had more incisors than humans did, eight instead of four.

“Great! Feelz great to be honored by one o' da most accomplished mercs in da known world! An’ speakin’ o’ mercs, I assume youz is ‘ere to sell your sword, yeah?”

The Baron sat up straighter in his chair.

“Yes. I am offering the services of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company to the Orcs of Londonsburg.”

“Den youz gits is ‘ired! Wez been ‘aving some spats wif do’es gits in Yorksburg, deyz gonna be invadin’ ‘fore long, most loikly. Wez'l ‘ire you for, say, six months to a year? ‘Owever long da foightin’ takes.”

“You know, I do charge a premium for my services. We are some of the best in the world, after all.”

Jack waved his hand dismissively.

“I don’t much care ‘ow much you charge, wez take what wez can get! Dough…I would like to keep yer costs down a bit...maybe wez could provide you lot wif stuff to ‘elp?”

The Baron took another sip of his whisky.

“Well, perhaps if you offered to repair our gear free of charge, and maybe provide us with more black powder, I’d be willing to offer you a discount.”

Jack scratched his bald head in thought.

“Hm…Yeah, wez can do dat! Don’t know ‘ow much powder wez can get to ya, but wez got some good smiths ‘angin’ ‘round ‘ere!”

“Oh, and could you possibly provide food for us?”

Jack nodded enthusiastically.

“Consider dat shit done! An’, if youz is willing, youz can take war plunder if you let us pay you less.”

The Baron made a halting motion with both hands.

“No thank you. I do not like the idea of my men looting and marauding, that’s simply not something we do. Disallowing that sort of thing tends to help with discipline.”

Jack’s shoulders deflated slightly.

“Well, your loss. So, ‘ow much youz want us payin’ youz?”

“My going rate is currently around 70,000 Reiskgeld per month, or something equivalent to that.”

Jack slightly cringed at the number the Baron threw out.

“Well, I have about 785 mouths to feed, not including our hundred or so camp followers. And then you have to consider the overhead costs of maintaining the company’s mercenary license within the Empire, maintaining and fixing our equipment, buying black powder, cloth, building material, pots and utensils, amenities, all the stuff that makes for an effective fighting force. You’re paying for a professional army, not simply a band of brigands with hand-me-down swords and logging axes.”

Jack scratched the back of his head in thought, taking a drink of his whisky before continuing.

“Alroight. Can’t say youz ain’t costin’ me much, but goin’ by your record, it’le be worf every bloody pence!”

The Baron stood up from his chair and offered his hand.

“Alright then, we have a deal. We will standby waiting for your orders. Should I call you ‘boss’ now?”

Jack stood and shook his hand, gripping it so hard it almost hurt, which the Baron returned in kind, eliciting a deeper smile from Jack.

“Nah, just call me Jack. Wez is similar in station, roight? ‘Ead back to your Inn an’ wait for orders. I can’t imagine youz’l be waitin’ too long!”

They both shared a laugh and the Baron got up to leave. Jack raised his hand and gestured for the Baron to sit back down.

“Wait, before you go, I’z got some advice for youz. Stuff ‘bout fightin’ in da snow, an’ fightin' 'gainst Orcs.”

The Baron sat back in his chair, grabbing and finishing his glass of whisky.

“Alright then, do tell.”

Jack took a deep breath before speaking.

“If youz gonna be foightin’ in da snow, I advize youz git some sunglasses made. Deyz cheap, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If you don’t wear dem, youz can go blind. Not sure why doe, just know it ‘appens.”

The Baron nodded in understanding.

“Noted, I’ll work on that when I get back.”

The Baron visibly remembered something, if that was even possible.

“Also, I believe I know why you can go blind. The sunlight gets reflected off of the snow and into your eyes. If you spend enough time dealing with that, your eyes can get sunburnt.”

“Huh, neat. Good to know why. Aside from dat, maybe invest in snowshoes? Da snow usually gets packed ‘nough for it to not be a problem, but they wouldn’t ‘urt.”

“I’ll think about that one. Now, your advice for fighting Orcs?”

“Roight, after one more fing ‘bout fightin’ in snow. Try not to use much magic, wif de exception o’ ice magic. Offer magics expel ‘eat, ice magic gaffers it. Be real careful wif your medics, too. If dey don’t spent lots o’ time dis far norf, dey moight not know deir limits and end up freezin’ to deaf. Seen it ‘appen, kinda sad. I know youz is a mage, I advise ya try to keep it to a minimum.”

“What? I can’t use magic here?”

Jack shook his head.

“Nah, nah, I didn’t say dat. I’m telling youz to be right careful ‘bout it. Youz can freeze to deaf real easy out ‘ere.”

The Baron sighed heavily.

“I am a mage of Gravity, Earth, and Fire. The three least efficient schools of magic. And now I find myself in a place where efficiency of magic is suddenly very important. Excellent.”

“Oh roight, youz a Gravity Mage. Wez don’t get any of d’oes out ‘ere. Bit too much ‘eat required to be worf it at all. Would you mind showin’ me some?”

The Baron smiled and stood up from his chair.

“No, not at all.”

The Baron took a deep breath, drawing the energy from the torches on the walls to him, his eyes glowing a bright yellow.

He made some hand signals, trails of yellow light left in the air by his fingers, and violently clenched his fists in front of him. As soon as his hands closed, he started levitating off the ground, and the fireplace began to die down quickly.

“Gravity magic is about manipulating the Earth’s gravitational field. I can levitate by lowering the force of gravity around me, making me weightless, and then creating a short line of gravitational force greater than the pull of gravity acting on me underneath me, which pushes me up, or, more accurately, pulls me up.”

The Baron smiled and made more hand signals with his left hand, gesturing to his glass, which floated over to him. Behind him, one of the candles was snuffed out.

“I can draw objects to me by lowering the force of gravity around the object, then creating a line of gravitational force which pulls the object in a certain direction, namely, towards my hand. Do you mind if I destroy something?”

Jack’s jaw hung open in amazement.

“Youz can break dat glass, I gotz plenty.”

The Baron nodded his head in thanks and gently thrust the hand with the glass out towards the middle of the room. The glass floated gently to the middle and stopped. The Baron made some more hand signals and, again, violently clenched his fist. After a moment of silence, the glass started to shake, and almost all of the lights went out.

After a few more seconds the glass started to creak, with small cracks spider-webbing from various places. Finally, there was a loud snapping sound, and the glass collapsed in on itself, creating a ball of finely crushed glass. The Baron closed his eyes and breathed out gently, the yellow glowing leaving his eyes, slowly lowering himself and the glass ball to the ground.

“I can crush things by increasing the force of gravity on an object. Because of how gravity surrounds everything, it can essentially crush objects into a perfect ball. Such a thing can be done to people as well, but it takes much more energy, and is an extremely slow and painful process, unless you increase the gravity field's density by a whole lot. The problem with that is the denser you make it, the harder it is to control.”

The Baron smiled slightly and shook his head.

“Many a gravity mage have been killed by accidentally creating a small black hole. Luckily for the rest of us, the black hole dissipates as soon as it kills the mage, so it’s generally over pretty fast.”

“Wow, dats cool as ‘ell! Why aren't dere more Gravity Mages?”

The Baron sat back in his chair, smiling at the smoldering remains of the torches on the walls and the now empty fireplace, then frowned at the memory of his academic career.

As much as I enjoy academia, writing all those papers...my dissertation...shudder at the thought.

“Well, as with all magic, learning Gravity Magic is an academic process. It’s mostly learning physics, and most people find that to be much more boring than the other schools, though I personally enjoy it. Also, learning Gravity Magic is dangerous.

The Baron got a far off look in his eye.

“Every Gravity Mage has been deatomized at least once.”

Jack scratched the back of his bald head.

“What’s dat mean?”

“Well, you know what Atoms are, right?”

Jack nodded his head yes.

“Well, if you lose control of Gravity near you, sometimes it will rip you apart, atom by atom. It is unbelievably painful, which will make it harder to concentrate, which then speeds up the process of you getting deatomized.

The Baron sighed deeply, almost sounding nostalgic.

“If you’re lucky, meaning it starts at your feet, and you regain control over your gravitational field, you can build yourself back up.But sometimes the process starts near your shoulders, and if the deatomization reaches your head, it’s over. It is extremely frightening and unbelievably painful, which is also why Gravity Mages are known to have very high pain tolerances.”

The Baron shook his head as he spoke.

“I know you’re going to ask this, and yes, we can deatomize people on purpose, as sort of an offensive spell. However, that is generally a last resort. We know just how painful it is, and after experiencing it, well, it becomes a bit hard to willing to subject another person to that. Though for some that’s not really a problem.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Wait, so, youz been ‘deatomized’?”

The Baron tenderly touched his neck.

“Yeah, I did. Started in my feet, but it still almost reached my head. I managed to stop it around my shoulders. Unbelievably painful. I can generally take a lot of pain now, though. And it’s extremely useful and versatile.”

“‘Ow so?”

“Well, if a wagon gets stuck, for instance, I can just lift it using gravity magic. Same with any heavy building materials, makes building both infrastructure and last minute defenses a dream. And, combined with Earth magic, it makes construction go by much faster. It can also be used for fighting, and not just throwing people around or deatomizing them.”

The Baron raised his arm high in the air.

“If you can get fine enough control, which I have, you can increase and decrease the weight of your weapons during combat, so you can move faster and hit harder.”

The Baron’s eyes flashed yellow and he chopped down through the air. The force of the strike sent a small gust of wind out from the sides, and the floorboards creaked under the force of his feet being driven into the ground.

“Also, something only I have been able to do, so far as I know, is control the trajectory of a bullet. If I’m properly prepared, I will never miss a shot. And, while it’s a bit overkill, nothing ends a fight faster than being deatomized, even if it’s technically a longer process.”

“Woah. Dat’s ‘ardcour. Think I’z gonna stick to Ice ‘n wo’ah Magic. Where’d you find time to learn dat an’ Earf ‘n Fire Magic?”

The Baron smiled and shrugged.

“Well, I’m hardly a master at those two, I specialize in Gravity Magic.However, I can summon Earth spikes and shoot fire out of my fists. For both of those I generally use a method pioneered by the Singh Raajavansh down south around the 4th century, using martial arts as a medium for casting. I’ve found it makes my attacks more powerful, and performing martial arts generates a lot of body heat, which helps with casting.”

Jack scratched the back of his head, very impressed.

“I ain’t fink you’d be teachin’ me anyfin’ today! I gotta return da favah! Let’s move on to my advice for fightin’ Orcs so youz can rest for a bit.”

The Baron smiled and nodded.

“So, when plannin’ for fightin’ Orcs, I recommend youz don’t plan on dem routin’ or nufin’. Wez just don’t break, don’t know why. Many Orc warriors wear crimson sunglasses, makes ‘em fearless. Also don’t know why, just does a number on da Orc ‘eadstuff. Unless deyz in an unbelievably bad situation, Orcs don’t run ‘less dey’re told to.”

The Baron looked at Jack incredulously.

“Well, many claim to have the most disciplined soldiers, but everyone runs when shit hits the fan.”

“When shit ‘its da what?”

It took every ounce of the Baron’s willpower to not make a face.

“It’s an expression. Means something is going very poorly.”

“Ah, well, it’s true. Wez got da best. Youz’l just ‘ave to see. Orcs is disciplined, religious, an’ strong. Youz got your work cut out for you!”

The Baron smiled brightly.

“That remains to be seen. It’s going to be a pleasure learning to fight Orcs from the premier Orc fighter himself! Now, anything else before I leave?”

“Well, I know dis is generally ‘good practice’, but make sure Orc cavalry don’t reach you, an’ if dey do, make sure dey're ‘urt real good. Wez got da best cavalry, an’ York’s got da best cavalry by far. Dey been known to charge pike squares an’ win.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Aside from my Pikemen being fine soldiers, my rifles will rip apart anything that enters our range.”

Jack smiled brightly, showing off his strong teeth, which many of the Orcs cared a lot about very deeply.

“I wouldn’t be too confident. Orcs’re known to kick ya in da teef if you're not proper ready!”

The Baron smiled and stood up from his chair.

“That applies to all peoples. Before I go, can I ask you something important?”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

The Baron’s eyes stared off into nowhere in particular and he stroked his cropped beard as he considered something.

“Well…now that I think about it, such a thing would be better to ask when I’ve proven myself useful to you. Just, keep in mind that at some point I would like to speak to you in depth. After the war has actually started.”

Jack leaned forward on his desk, propping himself up by his elbow.

“Tell you what. ‘Elp kick Yorksburg’s teef right proper, an’ we’ll be talkin’ ova drinks quite a bit, yeah?”

The Baron smiled and turned to leave Jack’s study.

“Sounds good to me.”

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A few days after the Baron first meeting with the Skipper of Londonsburg, he was called back to the palace to attend a strategic meeting, in which he would receive his first marching orders. The meeting was taking place in the courtyard, which the Baron found very strange.

A large square table was brought out and placed right in front of Jack’s throne. Spread out on the table were maps of varying detail, from maps which showed the general shape of Orcland, to maps which showed specific terrain details like hills and forests and lakes.

I feel like having this in such an open place would be bad for security?

Mulling around the table were 12 Orcs, and the Baron. All of the Orcs wore plate armor of many different styles, colors, and qualities. One Orc , who was particularly notable for seemingly having more scar tissue than normal tissue, had a set of armor with obvious punctures in it, with splotches of dried blood which looked a little too fresh for him to have had that armor for any real length of time.

The Baron wasn’t sure if he cared more about looking scary than being functional, or if he just hadn’t had the chance to fix his armor, which indicated to the Baron was going to get a whole lot of glory in the near future.

Jack cleared his throat, quieting the discussions being had and drawing all eyes to him.

“Well boyz, it’s official. We’z at war wif Yorksburg!”

The Orcs all cheered as loud as they could. Two of them clasped hands and headbutt each other, roaring loudly at the sky as they both came away with a trail of blood running down their foreheads. The Baron joined in shortly, taking turns with the scarred Orc punching each other in masculine celebration over the prospect of glory.

As Jack quieted down the Orcs, the Baron thought about his lieutenants.

Honestly, doing things with Udo and Fergus feels pretty similar to this. Good to know idiots like us are the same no matter what race they belong to.

“Alroight ladz, much as I’d love to begin the skull crackening, Yorksburg’s gonna invade us first. So wez gonna be defendin’ for now. An’ ‘fore you gitz complain, defendin’ still means crackin’ skullz.”

The Orcs all mumbled in begrudging agreement.

“Roight, so, my scout boyz been workin’ real ‘ard, an dey fink deyz figured out where dey comin’! So, youz is gonna go dere an’ wait for ‘em.”

Jack took out a roughly straight stick and pointed to a spot on the map.

“Scout boyz found a couple ‘o places dey most likely gonna come from. Dis roight ‘ere, Blackpool pass, is where we fink Yorksburg is gonna send a good number o’ dere boyz. So, I’z sendin’ Jenkins, Oscar, an’ da Klarwassah boyz. Youz is gonna beat back da gits an wait til wez go on offensive. Roight?”

The two Orcs, Oscar and Jenkins, both yelled ‘Roight!’ The Baron simply nodded his head.

“Roight. You gitz get movin’ den. Baron, I’ll send a scout boy to be your guide while youz is ‘ere. An’ wez is given’ youz a load’a maps to get yer bearings. ‘Es waitin’ outside. Dismissed!”

The Baron raised his voice before Jack continued.

“Uh, can we not stay and get a better idea of the grand strategy?”

“No need. Wez just defending Londonsburg ‘til Yorksburg exhausts dere resources, den wez goin’ on attack. Pretty simple plan. Decreases chance o’ miscommunication. Now get goin’.

Jack thumped over his heart twice, creating a sound very similar to a bass drum.

“If wez know what deir doin’, dey knowz what deir doin’. So wez gotta stop ‘em right proppa!”

I guess it is a very simple strategy. We’re just trying to make their invasion as painful as possible until they’re weak, then attack. I guess that means some sort of active defense?

“Alright, I suppose that’s fair enough. I’ll be going, then.”

The Baron, along with whom he assumed were Jenkins and Oscar, turned and left the courtyard. When the Baron stepped out of the building, a mounted orc rode over to him. He wore the same things the Orcs who escorted him to Londonsburg wore, leather jerkin, furs, and a fur lined trapper cap.

“I am Winston. Jack told me I’m ridin’ wif you an’ your boyz while you’re ‘ere.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Winston. If I could impose on you, would you give me a ride back to our Inn?”

Winston reached down to help the Baron onto his horse.

“No problem, let’s get movin’!”

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Orcland in general was cold and unforgiving. The mountains were far worse. If they had to spend any extended period going through the rougher parts of one of Orcland’s myriad of mountain ranges, there would be casualties.

Luckily, Blackpool pass was shorter than most other mountain passes, and somewhat maintained. It was still unbelievably cold that high up in the mountains, but they crossed it fast enough that no one died of frostbite, though some of the men still got frostbite and were treated when they reached Blackpool pass.

The area where they chose to await the Yorksburg vanguard was a clearing just in front of the pass. It was about 250 ft wide, wide enough for all three armies to work within, though with only a small amount of wiggle room. The mountain in this area is far too tall and steel to climb, meaning very little chance of being flanked by a large force. The pass opened up to thick forest, far too thick for any organized force to move through without breaking formations.

The path leading up to the pass was a series of long, flat brick roads between staircases, all at a slight enough elevation for it to be fairly easy to move things up and down the stairs. It was part of a massive infrastructure project, which every city-state in Orcland paid into, which aimed to make crossing mountain passes as easy as possible.

It was essentially a very gradual staircase which the Orcs carved into the Londonsburg Mountain Range. And fighting anywhere like this could happen at any time so long as they don’t attack anyone unaffiliated passing through.

The ground itself wouldn’t impede anyone, as the path here was very well maintained, anything that would contribute to slowing people down, large rocks, fallen trees, holes, were either removed or filled in, meaning they would have to do it themselves.

As they entered the clearing, the men all either recoiled or covered their noses. Udo pinched his nose and spit on the ground.

“Gods above, what in the abyss is that smell.”

Winston, an Orc wearing a high quality unenchanted set of Imperial plate armor, seemingly unaffected by the stench, happily answered his question.

“It’s da tar pits nearby! Dey’re filled all dis stuff dat makes dis place stink roight proper! You fink da name Blackpool’s for show?”

“Well I didn’t really think about it. Most people don’t question why things are named the way they are.”

The Baron rode up next to Udo and smacked the back of his head.

“You’re not most people, I say most people do wonder that sort of thing.”

Udo turned and punched the Baron’s thigh, the impact of his gauntlet on the Baron’s chausses echoed around the pass.

“You’re not most people either! How can you say what most people do?”

“Damn, that’s a good point. No more making good points on my dime.”

“When else’m I supposed to make a good point?”

The Baron shrugged.

“When it’s not contradicting me.”

As the two were squabbling amongst each other, Ludwin came over and cleared his throat to get the Baron’s attention.

“Sir, Oscar and Jenkins are asking for you. They want to ask what your plan is. They’re both in the big red tent, right over there.”

The Baron nodded and turned his horse towards the red tent about ten yards away.

“I heard you called for me?”

The two Orcs cut the conversation they were having short. They were both wearing plate armor with no helmet, and neither of their armors were decorated.

The armor of the Orc on the left was made of a light blue hued steel, with a light orange fox pelt draped around his shoulders, and a coarse gray pelt peeking out of the joints and collar of his armor. The Orc on the right was wearing a very light gray hued armor, with light brown furs peeking out of his armor. The Orc on the left answered the Baron.

“Yeah. Me ‘n Oscar’re wonderin’ what youz is gonna do. Scout boyz tells us Yorksburg gitz is gonna be ‘ere ‘round two days. Maybe ‘free. Probably two. Maybe one. But probably two.”

The Baron thought for a moment before responding.

“Well, if we have time, I suppose we will be fortifying our position.”

Oscar and Jenkins looked at each other briefly in confusion.

“Do you really ‘ave time to build a fort?”

The Baron tilted his head.

“A fort?”

Oscar looked incredibly confused

“Yeah? Youz said youz is gonna fortify your position.”

“Well I don’t exactly have to build an entire fort.”

Oscar and Jenkins again looked at each other in confusion.

“You don’t?”

The Baron started to count off options with his fingers.

“Well, you could build a spike wall, create traps along the path, build platforms for archers or riflemen, create obstructions which funnel your enemy into killzones, you know, that sort of thing.”

Oscar and Jenkins, again, loo-

“Do you…not do that sort of thing here?”

“Nah? Why do all dat when you could just go to a fort or castle?”

“But, what do you do if you can’t reach a fort or castle?”

Oscar and Jenkins looked at the Baron like he was a complete idiot.

“Den you fight on da field! Or run, if it looks too bad. Dey can’t exactly leaf a large garrison be’ind ‘em, so deyz gotta come n’ getcha.”

Well, I suppose that’s not…entirely without merit. I guess that sort of thing just works for Orcs.

“Right…well, my men will be fortifying our position, and we'll most likely end up fortifying yours as well, mostly as a consequence of what we end up doing. If any of you want to help, then you're free to.”

Oscar and Jenkins shrugged in unison. Oscar smiled and slapped the Baron’s shoulder as he spoke.

“Roight. Youz get on your fortifying or whatever. We’ll watch an’ fink ‘bout it.”

The Baron smiled and walked out of the tent, heading over to where his men were waiting around for their orders. As the Baron approached, Udo and Fergus rounded up the men, and Ludwin grabbed a stool for the Baron to stand on, which the Baron took with a nod of appreciation.

“Alright men! Listen up! The Yorksburg vanguard will take at the earliest a day to reach us, though they tell me that two days is more likely! That means we have at least a day to fortify our position!”

The Baron took in a deep breath, yelling even louder than before.

“Our plan is as follows: We will fell trees in the area and use that lumber to create large stakes, which we will lash together to create a series of four spike walls to slow them down and funnel them into a small area! The wall closest to us will be about as high as your stomach, to allow for easy spearwork! They will have to either go around or above, or they will have to dismantle the walls, which gives our gunners more time to kill! Additionally, we will dig trenches behind the walls. At the far end, they will be empty. The trench at our line will have stakes to impale them as they fall. The empty trenches serve a dual purpose: Tiring out the enemy, and conditioning them to jump straight into the pits!”

The Baron waited a moment for everyone to process what he said.

“Men will be stationed all along the final wall, which will have a few openings to better funnel them into your spears! Most of you will be in front of the openings, pike and sword ready to meet the Orc onslaught! The rest of you will be there to make sure no Orcs climb over or dismantle the wall, or to fill in gaps they open! This will be the duty of our melee troops!”

The spear and swordsmen all cheered in acknowledgement.

“After the wall is finished, we will build platforms from which our riflemen will fire down from a vantage point! Our platforms should be wide enough to fit ten men abreast! Do any of you have questions?”

The Baron waited a moment for anyone to speak up, and after no one did, he continued.

“Alright! Every man head to the supply wagons and grab some axes! We will be working in shifts, alternating who is working every four hours, so you will work multiple shifts throughout the day with long rests in between! Our Orc allies are taking care of scouting, so we will simply have to trust in them to make sure we do not get caught unaware! And do not worry! I will be joining in on the construction effort! I would never order you men to do something I would not! Ludwin and Helmut will be our foremen, they will organize us! Now, let’s get to work men!”

The men all cheered as the Baron cheered and followed him to the supply wagons. Ludwin and Helmut, despite not being informed beforehand, very quickly threw themselves into their roles as Foremen.

They divided the men up into groups and supervised the felling of trees and the crafting of the stakes. The Baron took the first shift, grabbing an ax and working alongside his men felling trees, aided greatly by his use of gravity magic.

He had to rest early, as he forgot about limiting his magic to a minimum and at some point almost collapsed from the cold.

The heat created by moving my body is usually enough to fuel it…I don’t like working in the north!

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The Orcs watched the men’s work with interest. Almost none of them joined in, which irked the Baron, but they took obvious interest. The work was hard, but the trees were not overly thick, only about one foot thick on the small end and five feet thick on the larger end, and the men tended to choose the thinner trees for the wall.

Each tree, being between 60-200 ft tall, can be made into multiple stakes. Over the course of the day, the Baron’s men, along with the few Orcs who wandered over and joined on their own initiative, had finished around 65 ft of the required roughly 250 ft required of the first wall.

If I can convince more Orcs to come to help, we could complete everything fairly quickly. Maybe even work on tertiary projects.

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The next day, during the Baron’s shift, Oscar and Jenkins approached him. The Baron was learning from a former carpenter how to properly fit and tie the wood together, and he was slowly coming to the conclusion that he was a Neaderthal completely incapable of finesse.

“Oi! Baron. Me n’ Jenkins been wonderin’ ’ow can we ‘elp! Youz built your wall fer our gitz too, ‘s only right wez give ya a bit o’ ‘elp.”

The Orcs were mostly speaking in Reikers when dealing with the Baron and his men. They had no knowledge that he knew their language, called Orcish, for obvious reasons, and so it made sense that they spoke to him in Reikers.

What didn't make sense to the Baron, however, was the fact that all of the Orcs he had come into contact with spoke Reikers, even footsoldiers and scouts.

It would make sense for Jack to be fluent, but for so many of them to be fluent in Reikers? Very strange to me.

The Baron spoke without looking up from his incredibly messy rope work.

“Well, it would just be a matter of sending your boyz over to us and organizing properly.”

Jenkin laughed heartily.

“Don’t worry bruv! Orcs’re da best at teamwork! Wez’ll get in der roight quick!”

Oscar leaned in and spoke semi-quietly, which felt like a joke for the most part.

“Don’t tell anyone, but wez fink it’s real good ya ain’t ‘fraid ta get ya ‘ands dirty. Orcs respect dat sort’a fing!”

The Baron stopped his work and stood, bowing his head in thanks to both of them as he spoke.

“Thank you both, I truly appreciate it. Alright then, if you want to join in, consult our foremen, Ludwin and Helmut. Ludwin is the tall, clean shaven, blonde man wearing the cuirass with the sun embossed on it. Helmut is the other tall man, short silvery hair, piercing blue eyes, can’t miss ‘im.”

The Baron’s eyes wandered for a moment in thought.

“Well, maybe you might, despite the ethereal attractiveness. He tends to have that effect on people. Wait, are Orcs even attracted to humans?”

Both Orcs scratched their chins in thought.

“Well, don’t know ‘bout Oscar, but I fink you lot is fine ‘nough. Well, your women’re a bit small an’ puny. Youz would be plenty attractive to most Orcs, doe, big man!”

“Hm? Our women are too small? What do Orc women look like?”

Jenkins and Oscar eagerly smiled at each other, like they were waiting for the Baron to ask that exact question.

“Well, Jenkins is a woman.”

The Baron was quite taken aback. The carpenter working with him completely stopped his work to look at the Orcs.

“Uh. rea-”

The carpenter fruitlessly trying to teach the Baron his craft spoke up.

“Wha’dya mean ‘es a woman? He looks like ‘e could be your brother!”

Both Orcs laughed heartily.

“Wez get dat a lot from you gitz! Wez love it when you ‘umies learn it! So befuddled!”

The carpenter looked at the Baron, horribly confused.

“Baron, how’s that work?”

The Baron took a second to gather his thoughts.

“Well, they are a different species to us. Have you heard of the term ‘sexual dimorphism?’”

Both the carpenter and the Orcs looked confused.

“Alright, I'll take that as a no. Well, it basically means that the Male and Female sex of a species develop differently from each other. My guess is that Orcs just have a very low level of sexual dimorphism.”

The Baron furrowed his brow and scruffed his chin in thought.

“Hmm, now that I think about it, Orcs and Humans can interbreed and create half-Orcs, or I guess half-Humans depending on how you look at it, so maybe they’re just offshoots of the same species and not different ones entirely, like Homo Sapien and Homo Neanderthalensis…”

Everyone in earshot was mostly just confused. The level of education for average people in this world was fairly low, and the Baron was pondering aloud about what could very well be his next dissertation.

“Roight, Baron, wez is gonna go find do'es gitz you told us ‘bout. What’s deir names? Ludwig an’ Helmet?”

“Ludwin and Helmut.”

“‘Roight, dat’s what I said!”

“Right…Well yeah, go find them. They’ll find jobs for you and your men.”

Both of the Orcs responded with ‘Roight’ and a salute before walking off. The Baron turned and continued his work on the platform, looking visibly dismayed as he realized the carpenter finished what they were working while he was turned around, and was halfway through lashing together another set of logs, something the Baron still hadn't gotten the hang of.

It’s such a simple thing! I have tied plenty of knots throughout my life! Why can't I get this right?

 

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At the end of the second day, with the assistance of the Orcs, the four walls were finished, trenches were mostly dug, and the platforms were shaping up nicely.

The platforms were fairly simple, essentially being made up of a packed dirt slope which ended in a plateau contained within rough wooden planks. At the front the planks extended up to around waist height to provide cover for the gunners, or as something to steady rifles on if needed. The dirt was packed hard and was shaped into very rough stairs, which allowed the rows to maintain cohesion fairly well.

The walls were tall enough that the Orcs would struggle to just climb over it, and if they did it would only increase the distance they had to drop into the trenches, which created its own problems. The fourth and final wall was slightly taller than the others, to further discourage climbing and make it harder to take apart cleanly, and there were a few gaps with fairly narrow walkways surrounded by spiked trench.

The Baron spotted Oscar speaking to a scout boy and wandered over. The scout ran off and Oscar looked fairly pleased.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Lucky us! Lookz like dey’s gonna be ‘ere, say, late afternoon tomorrow. Probably ‘fore sunset, at least.”

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The Baron and his men finished the rest of their work very quickly, and so they had time to do some pre-battle celebrations. There was no drinking allowed, but the camp cooks were making fairly luxurious meals for them, especially when it came to campaign meals. The Baron, however, was checking on the fortifications and making sure there were no weak points.

The Baron leapt down from the top of the second wall into the pit, grimacing as he landed.

Yup, that’s jarring. Hope they have fun doing parkour under gunfire!

He looked up from his pit to see Oscar, looking somewhat serious.

“Dere gonna be ‘ere in a coupla’ hours, two, maybe free, most loikly two. Ya should be able ta see da snow n’ dust deir kickin’ up in da distance if ya climb up da wall again.”

The Baron clambered out of the trench and looked off where the Yorksburg vanguard were coming. He could see a small cloud of white off in the distance. They were still somewhat far away, however, the Baron could tell they were moving very quickly

The Baron leaped down, grimacing again as he landed, and made his way back to the battle line. When he arrived, he clambered to the top of the final wall and took in a deep breath.

“Alright men! Let's get serious! We need to grab our arms and armor and form up. We’ve got a hard fight ahead of us, but the harder a fight, the greater the glory! Time to prove yourselves against some of the finest soldiers in the world! Prove to them that we are the best!”

The men cheered and ran off to grab their gear. The Baron jumped down and landed gracefully on the pathway, kicking up dirt as he ran off to his tent.

The Baron strapped on his gear, the cuirass, greaves, and vambraces, then his saber and four holsters. He grabbed his helmet and held it under his arm as he emerged from his tent.

The area was a flurry of activity. Men running back and forth carrying various supplies, boxes of bullets and powder being brought to the platforms, men joking with each other as they strapped on arms and armor, and noncombatants finding a safe place away from the front.

Jean and Helmut were fiddling with people’s rifles, making sure they were in perfect working order. Udo, Fergus, and Gaius were helping carry things to and fro. Ludwin was on his horse, staring off into space, deep in thought.

The Baron rode over and slapped him on the back, eliciting a small yelp.

“Think you’re ready?”

Ludwin smiled and nodded his head.

“Of course. I just have to yell and look confident.”

The Baron patted his shoulder and laughed.

“That’s really all there is to it!”

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Formed up at the middle of the wall were the Baron’s men, surrounded on either side by Oscar and Jenkins. The majority of the pikemen were situated in front of the openings in the wall, with others spread around so they could quickly fill in where needed. Inside the pike formation were swordsmen, ready to kill anyone who tried to get under the pikes. Udo, Fergus, and Gaius were mixed in with the swordsmen.

The gunners were all on the platforms, doing last second checks and generally fiddling with their sights, flashpans, and firing mechanisms. Helmut was moving between the platforms, ready to coordinate volleys when necessary.

The Baron and Ludwin were mounted and behind the men, Ludwin on the left, the Baron on the right. The Baron raised his saber, and his voice.

“Alright men! Here, we are, in a foreign land, fighting extremely strong enemies foreign to us, at the behest of foreigners. All in all, just a job like any other! Do not let these Orcs scare you! The only enemy you ought to fear is hesitation! Just remember! Keep your formation! Cover your fellow man! And trust! Trust in your training, your comrades, and your gods! Today, we shall do as we always have! We shall fight! For honor! For Bickenstadt! For Klarwasser!”

The men roared and stomped their feet, chanting ‘For honor! For Bickenstadt! For Karwasser!’

As the cheers died down, the Baron, again, raised his voice.

“Perhaps I should have saved the speech for just before the Orcs reached us! Now, we get to settle in and wait an hour or two! Anyone have a deck of cards?”

Many of the men laughed, then sat where they were and bantered with each other.

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Just an hour later, the Orcs could be seen from the defender's position.

The sound of their pounding feet was deafening, even from the distance still between the two armies. The ground shook as the entire Yorksburg vanguard marched in unison. The view of their incredibly disciplined and coordinated march made the Baron whistle and speak to no one in particular.

“These guys are organized, huh? This battle will be informative, if nothing else.”

As the Orcs drew ever closer, the Baron drew his saber and steeled himself, letting it rest on his shoulder.

His men grabbed their weapons and formed up. The pikemen leaned on their pikes, and the swordsmen held their weapons however they found most comfortable. The riflemen all checked to make sure their rifles were loaded and their powder was dry.

Helmut stood with the riflemen, rifle in hand. He had apparently chosen to operate as a gunner instead of a frontline fighter. Udo, Fergus, and Gaius were formed up with the men, though Gaius was tucked in the back of the formation. His fighting prowess, and ability to work well with the men, was still unproven, and he was a little too large to easily fit in the formation.

At least his sword has some serious reach.

Jean and healing mage Geidpfeld were back in the camp. As noncombatants, Jean’s job was to keep the gunmen stocked up and to replace any weapons destroyed during the fighting, and Geidpfeld’s job was to keep them alive.

The sounds of the Orcs' march intensified as they got closer, the rhythmic thumping of feet on dirt almost sounding like the drums said to precede the coming of Alaric, the Imperial god of war. The Baron could see that the march was unnerving people and yelled at the top of his lungs, making sure everyone around could hear him.

“Hold the line men! And remember, whether they be Orc or Human, no one walks away with a hole in their chest!”