Chapter 4

The ground shook. The thunderous rumbling of nearly two hundred heavy cavalrymen charging could be felt through the ground, even from hundreds of yards away. This was the moment where the battle would be decided. If the cavalry could overrun their enemy, they could tear through the disorganized mass of men with ease.

Many soldiers simply broke when confronted with the horror of a cavalry charge, oftentimes even before the impact. However, the mercenaries of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company were no mere soldiers. Comrades stood shoulder to shoulder, pikes braced into the ground, spearhead pointing towards the oncoming cavalry.

The Baron shouted at the top of his lungs as he reloaded his pistol, sending powder flying off in every direction as he rushed to fill the flash pan.

“Stay together men! If you refuse to break, then you will survive! It’s that easy!”

The men all vocalized their agreement, a cacophony of different phrases and battle cries audible over the din of charging cavalry. The Baron’s eyes began to glow yellow and he drew complex sigils in the air.

“Now, gunners! Let’s punch them in the fucking teeth!”

The Baron thrust his pistol through the sigil, the barrel gaining a golden, glowing couple of inches. The yells of the gunners were soon drowned out by the deafening thunder of gunfire. The Baron’s bullet whipped past his men and into Orcish cavalrymen. It impacted him dead center, and then punched all the way through, the bullet tumbling down and braining the horse of the man behind him.

The soldiers behind the downed horse desperately tried to avoid colliding, with a few being thrown off their horses or being pushed out of position. The volley collided with them less than a second later. Most of the bullets impacted armor and were completely stopped, though the impact of a bullet almost knocked over a few,

A single rider dropped, a bullet had found its way through his visor, extremely lucky for the Baron’s men, but unlucky for him. Even with this small disruption, the Yorksburg cavalry rode on, eating up dozens of yards in just a few seconds. At this pace, there was only time for two or three more volleys.

Again, the sound of hoofbeats was briefly drowned out by the roar of muskets, and bullets impacted Orcs hard enough to be heard by the gunners themselves nearly two hundred yards away. The thunk of lead on armor made it sound like the volley did more damage than it did. Some of the Orcs were tagged or even injured, but none of them dropped.

The Yorksburg cavalry was close enough for the gunners to make out details, like a sun painted across the chest of many mounted warriors. The Baron drew another pistol and quickly enchanted it.

“Aim small miss small!”

The Baron and his gunners fired in unison, with the Baron’s bullet racing ahead to pierce the helmet of a charging Orc, which spun out and struck another Orc, piercing his helmet, but stopping just shy of being a killing blow. The Orc shook his head and charged on. And in just a few more seconds, the two sides collided. Orc spear couched under armpits, Klarwasser pike braced in the ground. Everyone held their breath as they waited for the carnage to begin.

The sound of armored horses and Orcs colliding with pikes and spears could be heard for miles around. The scratching of speartips glancing off of armor, the wet, sticking sound of spearhead impacting flesh, the screams and battlecries of men and Orc alike, all worked together to create a symphony of battle.

A few horses and Orcs were skewered on impact, as a spearhead found a gap in their armor, however the majority of the riders, to the astonishment of the Klarwasser Mercenaries, simply beat the pikes aside. Orcish spears slammed into Imperial armor, killing and wounding soldiers on impact as the force of hundreds of pounds of soldier was concentrated behind a small point.

The heavy Yorksburg cavalry were able to punch right through any weak points, managing to get a few horsemen past the wall of pikes. One stopped the Baron charging towards him and answered in kind, spear couched under his armpit and aimed at the Baron’s throat. As he thrust forward, the Baron’s saber shot forward, grinding along the shaft and up into the Orc’s throat as the horses passed each other

Gaius turned and parried a thrust then swung his greatsword down onto the Orc in one smooth motion. The spearhead continued forward and glanced off of Gaius’s pauldrons, while Gaius’s greatsword impacted the cavalryman’s shoulder, and continued downwards, crushing through his armor and grinding to a halt just before fully severing his arm.

A cavalryman thrust his spear into the side of a gunner, swiftly slashing another man’s throat with the speartip as he moved over to intervene. A gunner fired and hit the Orc’s helmet, the bullet ricocheting off the enchanted metal and sending his head flying backwards. As he leaned forward to continue attacking, he found a long, thin blade sticking out of his neck. When he looked down, he was greeted with the emotionless face of Helmut, who withdrew his rapier and thrust up through the armpit of another cavalryman who had missed him.

Despite the handful of cavalry who made it past in places, the line was holding very strong, and the gaps were swiftly being closed as the backline swiftly killed any Orc who managed to get by. Udo held his longside by the blade, wrenching his sword up and slamming his crossguard in an armpit, dragging the mounted Orc off of his horse and sending him crashing into the ground. The downed rider began to scream and was swiftly silenced by a spearhead finding its way inside his visor.

Fergus ducked under a spear and caught it in the beard of his ax, jerking it towards him as he lurched forwards and thrust his knuckle dagger into the Orc’s throat, sending rivets of chainmail flying as he smashed through with ease. Another thrust came at Fergus, but it was redirected by one of his comrades, the tip visibly bending after impacting a chestplate at full speed.

A Yorksburg cavalryman impaled a Klarwasser mercenary through the throat, killing him near instantly. Pikes flew over in his direction, but were stopped by his armor and his comrades protecting him. He pulled out his spear and thrust again, impaling another mercenary before he could even move to react. A bullet impacted the rider square in the chest, knocking him off balance and almost completely off of his horse. As he pulled himself back up, another bullet hit him, sending him tumbling fully backwards.

All around, Orc fought against man, and fellow Orc. The flanks, held by the Baron’s Orcish allies, were holding strong, possibly better than the Baron’s forces. Since Orcs were so tall, they had no trouble wrestling cavalrymen off of his horses, and since Orcs were so strong, their bows launched arrows at near bullet speeds. A Yorksburg Orc’s head got thrown back violently as a large, thick arrow entered his eye slit. After a few seconds it became clean that its rider had died, so his horse quickly turned and ran.

The fighting was intense, and the Baron’s forces were exhausted. However, their training kept them alive and together. Even as their arms burned and their lungs gasped for air, each man covered his comrade to the best of his ability, and any opening was swiftly capitalized on.

The Baron severed an Orc’s head, his enchanted saber cutting through the Orc’s unenchanted chainmail like a hot knife through butter. He ducked a thrust and slashed at the Orc’s arm as he rode past, glancing off his enchanted greaves. The Baron clicked his tongue and took in a deep breath, his eyes glowing a deep red.

As the Orc turned and charged at the Baron again, the Baron opened his mouth and released a gout of flame. The Orc panicked and ducked out of the way, leaving him wide open as his spear dangled off to the side. Through the fire came a flash of steel, and the rider slumped in his saddle as the horse slowly came to a stop. The horse reared as a few camp followers tried to capture it and bucked off its dead rider, running off into the mountain pass behind the Londonsburg army.

Ludwin dragged a soldier wounded on the leg over to Geidpfeld, who was already hard at work stitching up a massive hole in a man’s stomach. The rest of the lieutenants would do fine on the frontline, Ludwin, however, was not a gifted one.

He did not want to face Yorksburg cavalrymen with just his longsword. He gently helped the man lean against a crate and ran off, coming back soon after with a Yorksburg Orc over his shoulders. As soon as he was finished with the stomach wound, Geisfeld threw himself over to the enemy Orc, healing him quickly and without a second thought. All he cared about was saving whoever was given to him.

A pikeman thrust into the visor of an Orc, striking deep enough to destroy his eye, but not deep enough to kill. He threw himself back and fell off his horse, landing head first and breaking his neck on impact. The two sides had inflicted a roughly equal number of casualties on each other, however, the rate of casualties was unsustainable for the Yorksburg Orcs.

Those fighting the Klarwasser Mercenary Company had taken the most casualties, and there was a noticeably smaller crowd in front of their pikewall. And while they had certainly been mauled, the Klarwasser Mercenaries were still holding strong. And the cavalrymen showed no signs of fear or hesitation.

After nearly twenty minutes of nonstop fighting, three calls from a horn could be heard off in the distance. The Yorksburg cavalrymen began to thrust their spears forwards as quickly as possible as they began to reverse. Though the thrusts themselves were not very precise, the volume of them made it harder for the pikemen to follow after them. And in just a few seconds, they had turned and ran as quickly as they had arrived.

Helmut grabbed the musket of a fallen soldier, literally having to pry it from his cold, dead hands, and checked the flashpan. Full.

“Gunners, don’t let up. Keep reloading and firing.”

Some gunners were reloading, others were not. Many were staring off at the retreating cavalry, visibly exhausted and relieved that they were retreating. A few were simply staring at the bodies of their comrades. Many soldiers in Klarwasser joined alongside other men from their villages or social groups. The newer, younger men were still trying to fully process and internalize what happened.

Helmut scowled and stood, yelling at the top of his lungs as he aimed, firing less than a second later. His shot was aimed at an Orc with a dent in his armor that Helmut had noticed earlier. The ball collided with his back, piercing the weakened armor and punching a hole through the Orc’s chest. The shocked gunners came back to the present, surprised. Most had never heard Helmut raise his voice before.

“IT’S NOT OVER YET! FIRE! RELOAD! FIRE! RELOAD!”

After taking a moment to process his words, and the fact that the most quiet man they knew was yelling loud enough to hurt their ears, the gunners immediately started to load or fire off their shots. Not many hit, but they didn’t all need to. All they needed was one lucky shot and an enemy was down.

The men were winding down, finally able to take a breath now that the Orc onslaught had ended. The Baron watched the horizon closely, loading his pistol without looking. After he had finished, the entire army could be seen marching away from Blackpool pass. The Baron holstered his pistol, drew his saber, and held it high in the air.

“Men! Today you have earned the honor of being the few soldiers in the world able to repel Yorksburg cavalry!”

The men all roared in approval, stomping feet and slamming weapon butts on the ground to make as much noise as possible. The Londonsburg Orcs were joining in too, celebrating alongside their human allies. The Baron cheered half heartedly, trailing off as the empty eyes of one of his men, a man of just seventeen who came to enlist alongside the other young men of his village seeking a better life.

The Baron forced a smile on his face. If he looked grim, it would kill the men’s morale. The new recruits deserved to celebrate their first victory. The mourning would come later.

He pumped his fist in the air and shouted before riding over to the field hospital. Because of the quality of healing magic, most of them survived, however a few of them had perished before Geidpfeld could get to them. The Baron looked to the side and saw a dead man covered by a white cloth. The stain on his stomach indicated he had been disemboweled, or something like that.

I’ve seen enough dead bodies at this point to know.

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A day after the battle of Blackpool pass, the Scout Boyz reported that the Yorksburg Vanguard had entered Yorksburg territory, meaning Blackpool pass was safe until they decided to try again. This was a very positive development, as the Baron did not think that they could throw back another assault.

Many of his men were injured during the fighting, and they only had a single healing mage in his company, not to mention that said healing mage was not operating at peak efficiency on account of the cold. Even though Geidfeld was an incredibly talented healing mage, plenty of those saved would still require either more time or more medical intervention to get them back into fighting shape.

The Baron was in his tent, personally writing letters to the families of the dead. He knew that some of their families were most likely unable to read, which was something he was working on, but doing such a thing was in the very least a heartfelt gesture. And, even if they felt insulted by the letters, they would not feel insulted by their sons’ pensions.

As he was getting lost in his apologies, Ludwin quietly entered his tent. The Baron did not look over towards him, just rubbing his eyes as he spoke, partly to push back the tears that had been threatening to well up for the past thirty minutes. His voice was weary and his throat was dry, almost coming out like the growl of an old grizzly bear.

“You really should not enter my tent so quietly.”

Ludwin's eyes widened and he stiffened slightly. He stood at the entrance, still holding the tent flap in his hand.

“What?”

The Baron continued speaking without looking over.

“If you open my tent flap quietly, you sound like an assassin. Most soldiers tend to throw things open when they need to talk.”

Ludwin almost winced as he heard that. He let go of the flap and walked over to the makeshift desk.

“W-well, I did not wish to disturb you, sir.”

The Baron sighed and turned to face Ludwin, setting his pen in its inkwell.

“Don’t worry too much about it. I have spent my entire life learning to discern what means me harm or not. Combined with my gift, well, I can almost hear the intention behind people’s actions. It was offered more as something to keep in the back of your mind throughout your career. It could save your life someday. Now, what do you want?”

The Baron shook his head slightly and plastered a smile across his face.

“Um, I mean what do you need Ludwin?”

Ludwin handed the Baron a scroll with a wax seal. The seal was a caricature of an Orc, with exaggerated tusks and pointy ears.

“A large army of Orcs was sent by the Skipper of Londonsburg to relieve us. We are to march back to Londonsburg for convalescence until we are sent on our next assignment.”

The Baron began putting away his papers and pencil.

“Alright then, tell the men to pack up. We march to Londonsburg as soon as everything is loaded up.”

Ludwin saluted the Baron and ran out of his tent. The Baron leaned on his knees and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Well…guess I should get moving huh?”

He glanced back at the stack of letters.

“...these men died for me…”

After taking a few seconds to think, the Baron sighed and picked his pen back up.

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At the Inn which made up Klarwasser Mercenary Company's temporary HQ, the Baron and his lieutenants were surrounding a table, discussing the results of the battle of Blackpool pass. The Baron had spread out log books across the table and was pointing and gesturing towards them as he made his points.

“...yes, we were able to repel some of the finest horsemen in the world, but it was at the cost of nearly two hundred men, around twenty percent of our forces. Some of those men may be healed in time to march again, but many more will not.”

The Baron sighed and shook his head.

“Not to mention those killed outright. Honestly, I-I believe the blame must lay at my own feet. My insistence on using rifles led to a noticeable decrease in volume of fire which the accuracy simply did not make up for. If I had just tested it first…”

The Baron closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“I should have thought it through.”

Udo grimaced and scratched the side of his head.

“Hmmm…I don’t know…those guys were pretty tough. You see the way they marched together and took apart our wall? Honestly I think it would’ve been about the same even if we were able to drop a few more guys.”

After a few seconds of thought, Helmut nodded his head.

“Yes, I agree. Though the volume of fire was lessened by a somewhat significant margin, I would say that the increase in volume of fire by using muskets would not make too much of a difference. If we use optimistic estimates about how much faster our men usually fired using muskets…I would say our casualties would still end up around ten to fifteen percent.”

Jean and Ludwin nodded as well. The Baron was bouncing his leg up and down as he spoke.

“A 5% decrease in casualties would still be a decrease in dead men. Any decrease in dead men is good. A certain amount of losses is to be expected in this line of work but I do care about my men, and doing anything which needlessly gets more of them killed is-just-just completely unacceptable.”

Fergus slapped the Baron’s shoulder.

“Ay, come on. You gotta experiment, and in experimentin’, you're gonna lose folk. You donnae wish tae see tae losses tae great Stríðsherra Björn Blóðöxi took when ‘e was figurin’ out how tae fight guns without guns!”

The Baron threw his gaze towards the ceiling, ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed, speaking flippantly.

“Well, isn’t the strategy fairly simple there? Just close the distance.”

Fergus looked at the Baron disappointedly.

“Baron, you ken damn well it’s not that simple. You’re just try’na put yourself down at this point, it’s not helpful. You’re a great commander waistin’ your time caterwaulin’ ‘bout some nonsense, you gotta calm down an’ be objective.”

The Baron looked to Fergus for a couple of seconds before taking a deep breath and slapping his cheeks with both hands.

“Right! Right. Right. You’re completely right Fergus…”

He smiled and nodded as looked up at the ceiling with his eyes closed as he took in another deep breath.

“...It’s disrespectful to the dead to ignore the lessons they paid their lives to teach us. Now, does anyone have ideas as to what we could do differently? I have been considering switching more men from sword to pike. A staunch line of spears would better keep our gunners safe. And I have also had the idea of issuing bayonets to the musketmen and having them also fight in the pikewall rattling around in my head.”

Jean raised his hand and spoke.

“Baron, I was thinking, if you want to use the rifles, per’aps we ‘ave just one row of rifles? At the front? They fire at rifle range, and then by the time the second row ‘as formed up, the enemy would be in musket range, so we are not just wasting the range of our rifles? Per’aps that could work?”

Helmut folded his arms and nodded his head.

“Yes, I thought of something like that as well. It combines the range of rifles with the fire rate of muskets. It would take some refining, but I think it could work.”

The Baron smiled.

“Well then, if two of my smartest men are suggesting it...perhaps the idea has some merit. Helmut, do you think that the men could do this immediately? Or do you believe that they would need some drilling?”

“Well, the concept is quite simple. I doubt the men would be too confused. We would simply need to explain it to them. Perhaps we could do something like this: Have the rifles in the first row fire and move to the back to reload, and then the other rows with muskets would kneel fire as usual. Maybe have four rows? One rifle, three muskets, and maybe the rifles could act as skirmishers after their first shot?”

Ludwin rubbed his chin in thought.

“Hmm…certainly an interesting idea. We would most likely need to train riflemen specifically for this strategy, yes? Skirmishing requires a completely different set of skills and goals than line fire.”

The Baron nodded and bit his thumbnail. After a moment of silence, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s an interesting idea, but we would probably want to just hire new personnel for that. We are on campaign, so we are surrounded by nothing but Orcs and Gobs. We could hire them to fill up missing positions, or to take up new ones. However, I am not sure if we have time for that…”

The Baron continued to bite his thumbnail as he thought. After a few seconds, the Baron smiled and nodded his head decisively.

“Alright! I have made my decision! We are simply going to switch back over to muskets for the duration of this campaign. Jean said that his people use exclusively muskets for their infantry, it must be due to the volume of fire difference, something which we sorely lacked during our last battle. We will save tactical experimentation and development for after this campaign, when we can aggregate all of the data we gathered. Until then, we simply need to bolster our numbers.”

Gaius, who up until now was standing off to the side trying to not get in the way, spoke up.

“You mention the Orcs. It makes me think. Perhaps the Orcs would be willing to join you? To make up for our lost numbers?”

“You’re suggesting I hire Orcs?”

Gaius raised his palms and shrugged.

“You hired me, did you not? I am not human.”

“Touché.”

Gaius tilted his head to the side.

“It means you make a good point. Do Orcs enjoy using pikes?”

“I can’t imagine they would not.”

“You are really quite intelligent, anyone ever tell you that?”

Gaius’s lips turned up in what looked like a smile. The Baron still had trouble reading his emotional state.

As it turns out, the human mind was not built to understand the facial expressions of goats.

“Only ewery day of my life.”

“Excellent. You deserve it.”

Ludwin respectfully raised his hand.

“Baron, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. For about a year now, actually.”

The Baron raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Ask away.”

“Thank you, sir. I was just wondering, why haven’t you recruited cavalry? They would be quite useful.”

The Baron fiddled with his poofy sleeves as he spoke.

“Well, I don’t know. Never really thought about it. Don’t really like cavalry that much, though.”

Ludwin’s face scrunched up.

“But, you’re mounted?’

“I don’t like commanding cavalry.”

“You could have a company commander giving them orders, and give him an idea of what you’re looking for.”

The Baron started stuttering. He really did not want to hire cavalry, and he only had a vague idea of why. Like bows, it was something that his late father insisted he use, so his opposition to it was irrational.

“I don’t know, that seems like extra um...that’s…that’s a pretty good idea. Y-yes that is an excellent point Ludwin! How about this, when we get back to Bickenstadt, we will discuss plans for this further. We will hire at least a company of cavalry, I give you my word.”

Ludwin smiled and nodded, satisfied with the Baron’s final answer. The Baron stood up and grabbed a piece of paper.

“Alright then, I’ve made my final decision for this meeting. We will announce that we are hiring Orcs, anyone interested should come to us in three days. We are looking for pikemen, so anyone with experience wielding a spear is welcome. They can join for the season, or they can join permanently, in which case they will have to move to Bickenstadt. We’ll make housing for them.”

He directly addressed Ludwin. Coming from a merchant background, he had experience in advertising positions within a company.

“We should probably make some posters advertising that, or not, that's negotiable, but we should probably just go wherever Orcs tend to congregate and spread the news by word of mouth. Most of them speak Reikers, but you should probably speak slowly, just in case. Oh, and Fergus and Ludwin should probably stick together, seems like you two work best that way.”

Ludwin and Fergus both nodded. Udo shrugged.

“Will they understand Fergus? I had trouble at first, though he’s gotten better.”

Fergus shrugged his shoulders.

“Tha Orcs I dueled seemed tae understand me well ‘nough.”

“Well alright then. Hey Baron, what exactly do we say? Just, the stuff you said? Fight in formation, protect your fellow man, pikes forward, thrust, yada yada yada?”

The Baron considered this for a moment, then smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. That sort of thing.”

Udo nodded happily and kicked his feet up on the table.

“Sweet.”

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Around one hundred Orcs and forty Gobs showed up to the Klarwasser HQ. The Orcs all had their arms and armor. Brigandine, kettle helms, kite shields, pikes, spears, halberds, and Carolingian style arming swords strapped to their hips. The Gobs wore lighter gambesons or chainmail, and the vast majority were equipped with bows, with just a handful holding a firearm.

The Baron was not expecting so many people to show up, and he hadn’t even considered how he was going to make sure he hired only the best Orc and Gob. The Baron shot Ludwin a glance to see if he had any ideas and found that Ludwin was looking at him expectantly.

Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.

The Baron clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention, and stepped up onto a nearby barrel.

“Welcome, Orcs and Gobs, to the Klarwasser tryouts! Since over a hundred of you brave men have come to join us, we are going to have you all fight each other!”

The Baron’s eyes wandered from massive, hulking Orc to smaller, childlike Gob, and he smiled his most charming smile.

“Well, we are going to have the Orcs fight each other! Since you Gobs seem to have brought ranged weapons, we will be testing your sharpshooting skills! Ok Orcs! Pair up with whomever you believe will make you look the best! We are hiring pikemen, so we would like to see the famous Orcish pointwork!”

The Orcs all started grabbing each other and yelling, trying to find either an equal partner, or the weakest looking Orcs so they could look strongest. After most of the Orcs had found a partner, the Baron spoke up again.

“You all are going to have a duel! Me, or one of my lieutenants, will watch your duel and decide whether or not to hire you! If the duel is close, and both Orcs are clearly strong, then you will both be hired! So, we’ll be handing out blunted spears! Go get them from my men other there!!”

The Orcs cheered as they moved and the Baron turned his attention to the Gobs.

“Gobs, your employment will be left up to the discretion of my lieutenant Helmut and engineer Jean. They will create their own trials for you. Good luck men!”

The Gobs cheered together and began to filter out towards Helmut and Jean. The Baron turned back and yelled.

“Orcs! Make six rows in front of me and my lieutenants!”

The Baron’s lieutenants fanned out and the Orcs quickly organized themselves into rows and the Gobs wandered over to Jean and Helmut.

The Baron was already extremely impressed with how organized the Orcs were on such short notice. His first ever recruitment drive didn’t go nearly as well, the farmers, hunters, and men generally unused to regimented life were very slow to pair up and form rows.

I think I read that they require every Orc and Gob to have militia training. I may have to consider doing something like that…

“Right! First pairs are to step forward, introduce themselves to my lieutenants, or me, and then duel!”

The Orcs raised their spears and stamped the ground as they performed war cries in nearly perfect sync. As the duels began, the Orcs embraced each other before clasping hands and slamming their heads together, the traditional way for Orcs to show good sportsmanship.

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The Baron and his men were impressed with the duels they watched, the Orcs were obviously well trained. Only about 30 Orcs were completely cut, mostly much older men who were just there to see how much age had slowed their movements.

Too little, to be honest. A seventy year old moving like a forty year old is ridiculous!

The Baron had only vague memories about Orcish pointwork, the name of their spear fighting system, but he remembered that it had a reputation for being incredibly fine and precise. Many assume that the massive, hulking frames of the Orcs would lead to them being brutish and imprecise, however, anyone who has ever fought against Orcish spearmen knows that they are just as cunning and precise as human warriors, possibly more so at times.

Gobs were not as common to see outside of Orcland than Orcs, so Gobs had not really developed a reputation, at least in the Empire. However, lack of reputation does not translate to lack of skill. Not a single Gob had been cut. Helmut and Jean just placed small objects a couple hundred yards away and had them fire. The Gobs were accurate, though not as accurate as the men personally trained by Helmut. Many of them had not received formal training in how to use firearms. For people with very little experience using firearms, their ability was remarkable. In time, they would become just as good, possibly even better.

After the trials ended, all of the Orcs and Gobs, as well as the Baron’s whole company, gathered for the Baron to explain how things would work. Firstly, the Baron addressed his own human men.

“Right! Men, you will be working alongside Orcs and Gobs. Well, working much closer than before. These brave Orcs and Gobs are joining our company, I hope you can learn much from each other! Treat them with the respect they deserve! You will be entrusting your lives to each other, there must be cooperation. There must be comradery. If I find a single one of you treating your new colleagues poorly, you will be let go and lose all benefits promised to you. Is that understood?”

Some of the Baron’s men grumbled at first, but they all responded with a loud ‘Yes sir!’

Grumbling, huh? They grumbled at that. I have a lot of work to do, don’t I?

“Now, for our new Orc and Gob allies! Since this is a special situation, any Orcs who do not wish to live in Bickenstadt will still be allowed to work with us, however, when we leave Orcland, you will be let go from the Klarwasser Mercenary Company!”

The crowd vocalized their acknowledgements, a single, indistinct yup! The Baron continued.

“However! Any who wish to stay with us after we leave Orcland, know that you will have to move to Bickenstadt, and that much of your time there will be spent drilling! You will be provided a home and a salary, and you will be treated with the respect you deserve as warriors, I will make sure of that! Is that understood?”

The Orcs and Gobs all cheered in approval.

"Right! Now, onto your responsibilities! Aside from keeping each other safe during battle by forming a staunch line of spears, there will be the occasional building project, whether that be repairs to a city or field fortifications! Are Orcs and Gobs trained in engineering?"

After a few seconds, a Gob spoke up. His voice was high, nasally, and rough.

"Wez Gobs go to university 'ere. Some o' us know geometry, dats just paper engineerin', roight? Wez can figure it out! As for da Orcs, well dey can sod roight off! Get 'em to lift da 'eavy shit, yeah?"

The Orcs and Gobs unanimously shouted in agreement. The Baron briefly scrunched his face in thought before returning to his default ‘in-public’ smile.

"Um, is that a yes? Whatever, if you're educated, we can teach it to you easily enough. And now, for your places in battle."

The Orcs and Gobs looked visibly excited.

"Orc pikemen will work together with human pikemen! You will be placed in the back of the formation, as your massive frames and long reach allows us to create a wall of spears with more depth than before! You will largely be dealing with me, Fergus, Gaius, Ludwin, and Udo, who you will all become very familiar with in the upcoming weeks!"

The Orcs roared with approval.

“Gobs, alongside your human allies you will be acting as skirmishers. Softening up enemy formations and picking off any soldier unlucky enough to him himself in your sights! Your job is to make their lives a living hell!”

The Gobs also roared in approval. After waiting for their cheers to die down, the Baron continued, looking far more solemn and stern than before.

“I will not lie to you, as doing so would besmirch my honor as the head of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company. This kind of work is extremely dangerous, as you will often be outrunning your supply lines and may have to spend extended periods of time within sneezing distance of the enemy. The chances of injury or death are quite high. However, your hard work and sacrifice will not be taken lightly! You will have the respect you deserve! You will be remembered as peerless warriors! And you and your families will want for naught!”

The Gobs all cheered their high pitched, nasally cheers.

"Alright then! You will primarily be working alongside Helmut, and occasionally an Elf named Jean. Helmut will be your mentor, your instructor, the man who will make a better you of you! Jean will be your quartermaster, making sure that your equipment will never disappoint! Understood?”

A high pitched yeah came from the Gobs.

“Good! Now, this next bit goes for all of you!”

The Baron waved Ludwin over to him. He fell into a sharp parade rest next to the Baron.

“Your orders will be coming from either me or Ludwin, the blond man in the armor with a sun embossed on it!"

He slapped Ludwin’s breastplate for emphasis.

"This right here is Ludwin! He is my vice commander, though now that I think about it we never formally made you one, did we?"

Ludwin shook his head.

"No we didn't, sir."

"Well now it's official! Anyways! I want all of you to meet back here at sunrise tomorrow! We have drilling to do before our next assignment! Dismissed!"

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“Thrust! Thrust in time with your comrades! You want your spears to converge on your targets, from above and below!”

Ludwin was drilling the spearmen on how to work together properly with allies of a different species. The day was cold, and it was actively snowing, typical weather for the southern Orclands. It wasn’t coming down too hard, just enough to leave a thin layer of powdered snow. However, the Klarwasser training ground showed nothing but bare brown dirt.

They were experimenting with formations, and Ludwin was pretty sure he had stumbled across something with a lot of potential. The humans were at the front of the line, holding their pikes conventionally, gripped at the bottom and middle with both thumbs facing forward. The Orcs held their pikes with one hand gripping the bottom with the thumb facing forward, and the other about a shoulder’s width apart, thumb facing inward.

The front row kneels and thrusts upwards, the second row stands and thrusts forwards, and the third row, made up entirely of Orcs, stands and thrust downwards. All together, they create a truly staunch line of spears. Any man who comes into pike range will find himself forced to protect from three angles at once.

Ludwin was incredibly impressed with how well the Orcs were working with their human allies. They almost seemed to instinctively know what the man next to them was going to do and react accordingly. Any time a human spearhead thrust forward an Orcish spearhead thrust downward and converged on the same point.

They were using training dummies, a wooden horse and rider on wheels which they sent flying down towards the pikemen. The pikes had to thrust into gaps in armor and push hard enough to prevent the cavalry from breaking through. With all three rows acting at once, the extremely heavy dummies, at least twice as heavy as actual heavy cavalry, were swiftly pushed back.

The musketmen were being trained by the Baron himself. They were working on two things: Perfecting their firing drills, and deploying bayonets quickly before getting into battle formation. The gunners were deployed in a line with around half a body’s width distance between each man, enough so that a countervolley would be less effective than one against a denser formation.

“Front row kneel! Second row aim! Fire!”

The ground shook as the thunderous crack of ninety muskets echoed for miles around. The sounds of bullets pinging off armor or punching through wooden dummies could almost be heard from the A massive cloud of smoke drifted up and off into the air as the men dropped to one knee.

“Second row kneel! Third row aim! First and second rows affix bayonets! Fire!”

The third row fired, the ear splitting boom serving as the outro for the three rowed choir of gunners as they almost immediately began to fumble with the spike attached to their hips.

“Get closer men! Form a dense square! Shoulder to shoulder, bayonet presented forward!”

The front row kneeled, the second row crouched, and the third row stood, bayonets thrust forward to make a wall of steel. The men braced as horse dummies flew towards them and shouted in unison as they thrust forward.

The Gobs were a few hundred yards away in the dense coniferous forests of Orcland being trained by Helmut. He was using today to get an idea of their skill levels. Helmut had spent years living in the Jagstadt wilderness, as well as the Land of Everlasting Snow, so he had gotten quite good at moving quickly and quietly through the woods, and firing accurately on the move.

The Gobs were given flintlock carbines, a firearm with a shortened barrel to allow for better maneuverability and ease of use on horseback. A Gob vaulted over a downed spruce tree as he fired at a plate attached to a tree two hundred yards away. The bullet went right past the tree and impacted the ground, sending dirt flying in every direction.

“FOOKIN’ ‘ELL! CAN’T ‘IT SHIT!”

The Gob roared as he raised his carbine in the air, what Helmut said to do when they finished a run. Helmut approached and the Gob yelled to him, which seemed to be the normal speaking voice for Gobs.

Maybe they have to yell or others will not hear them, or take them seriously. Perhaps I just need to yell?

Helmut’s face was blank and unreadable, but the Gobs had very quickly learned that though he may look uncaring and detached, he is perfectly aware of everything around him, and he was only willing to speak after he had considered what they said in depth.

“‘Elmet, what’d I do wrong?”

Helmut responded a few seconds after the Gob spoke.

“It is Helmut.”

“Yeah, dat’s what I said. ‘Elmet!”

Helmut briefly squinted his eyes in thought before returning to his neutral expression.

“I see.”

The Gob lightly shook his head at the curt response and patiently waited for a critique of his marksmanship.

“You are not stabilizing your upper body enough. Small shifts in body position can ruin accuracy when using a firearm, they are a little more exact than your bows. The trend I see here is you all need to work on your upper body stabilization. Allow me to show you what I mean.”

Helmut grabbed his carbine and shot off into the woods. When he raised the gun to his eye, his upper body did not bounce up and down at all, despite the near sprint he was running at. He vaulted over a large dead tree, perfectly adjusting his aim to account for the change in elevation.

He fired as he reached the apex of the vault, continuing to sprint forward to show the Gobs that he could maintain the exact same speed during and after going over the log. The sound of a plate breaking echoed through the forest, soon being drowned out by the cheering of the Gobs. In just a few seconds Helmut was already back where he began, leaning his carbine against a nearby tree. Despite the sustained sprint, Helmut wasn’t even slightly winded.

“I am sure with time you will be able to move like that. Your current level of skill is certainly nothing to scoff at.”

The Gobs all cheered in approval and gripped their carbines with renewed fervor.