The Goblin Wolf Cavalry Corps, led by the goblin warlord Git Sourbelly, had long harassed the expeditionary force's supply lines, causing numerous problems during the Eight Peaks Mountain campaign. However, Ryan and Belega were unwilling to turn back to deal with this nuisance, knowing it would fall right into Skarsnik's trap.
Now, François's plan was to eliminate this massive wolf cavalry corps.
The goblin army, led by Git Sourbelly, was vast. According to scout reports, it included at least 500 Orc Boar Riders, 5,000 to 6,000 Goblin Wolf Riders, Spider Riders, and Squig Hoppers, and another 5,000 to 6,000 Goblin infantry, along with a small number of Orcs. In total, it was estimated to be over 12,000 strong, though lacking in heavy infantry or siege equipment.
However, François had only 3,000 to 4,000 men, mostly heavy cavalry composed of knights and squires. While their charge was formidable, they couldn't match the speed of the goblin wolf riders.
"This wolf cavalry corps is a major threat that needs to be eradicated, but… how should we do it?" Jérôme asked. "We lack sufficient troops and long-range weapons. If we fight in an open field, we'll easily be outmaneuvered."
In the tent at Fort Armoury, everyone waited for François's next command. His chief courtier, Zahis Morningstar, was brewing tea for him.
"Eradicate, you say…" François paused. The Duke of Winford maintained his usual elegance, taking a sip from the teacup handed to him by the Prophetess of the Lady.
"Your Grace!" Baron Lucien, fully armed, entered the tent, kneeling on one knee. "Your Grace, there are only 121 muskets in Fort Armoury, and we're running low on ammunition."
"How many Dwarf crossbows do we have?" François calmly asked, looking at Lucien with a kindly expression.
Few knew that Lucien was related to François by blood. He was the illegitimate son of François's nephew, who had died in the Battle of La-Maisonneuve Abbey, and the duke had since taken great care to promote him, even assigning him to Ryan's service during this great expedition.
"Not many, just over 500," Lucien replied.
"I see," François nodded.
"What's your plan?" asked Sir Bayard, a Grail Knight. "We will follow your orders, but…"
"But with our current forces, it seems almost impossible to win this battle, right?" François replied, smiling wisely. "Lucien?"
"Your Grace!" Lucien responded, kneeling again, confused.
"What determines victory on the battlefield?" François asked from his seat, his tone calm but with a hint of a test in his voice as he stroked his long goatee.
"Um…" Lucien hesitated, unsure how to answer.
"Hmph! The size of an army or the power of muskets is secondary," François stood up. "What truly matters are timing, terrain, and our faith in the Lady. With her protection and power, Bretonnian knights need never fear war!"
"Oh!!!" The knights in the tent roared in excitement, eager to display their virtues and strength under the Lady's gaze.
"Gather the troops and prepare to march!" François commanded. "Three thousand men will suffice!"
"The goblin army's strategy is simple. They aim to lure us in, encircle, and annihilate us," François said calmly. "So, we will deliberately advance, luring them into attacking us! Rest for a day, and tomorrow, set out with the decoy supply convoy I prepared in advance!"
"Yes!" The knights all stood and shouted their agreement.
Thus, before the Wood Elf army arrived at Streamwatch Outpost, François led his 3,000 troops and many laborers, seemingly carrying large amounts of supplies and logistics, along Foulwater River, as if they were a vanguard heading toward Steelrock before turning south.
As expected, Git Sourbelly, upon hearing of this, led the entire Goblin Wolf Cavalry Corps, surging forward like sharks scenting blood. Seeing that the opposing force was small and laden with supplies, Git couldn't resist the urge to swallow the entire army whole.
Luckily, Git Sourbelly remembered Skarsnik's orders and didn't rush in recklessly, following François and his army from across Foulwater River, waiting for the right moment to strike.
By now, it was November, and Foulwater River was in its dry season, making it easy for the goblin wolf riders to cross. However, the cunning Git Sourbelly continued to bide his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
Likewise, François, moving slowly, was also waiting for his chance.
On the night of November 12th, at the edge of the wasteland along the banks of Foulwater River, François's army made camp.
Strangely, a torrential downpour began to fall from the sky.
The rain severely hampered their march. The knights were complaining, and the supply convoy was stuck in the mud. François ordered the army to camp where they were, and he and his commanders sat fully armored in their tent to shelter from the rain.
The rain poured down, drenching the riverbank. François walked alone outside the tent, staring at the falling rain. In his hand, he held the Unicorn Sword, which shone with pure white light and platinum flames, never extinguished even by the heavy rain. The banners of House Winford and its allies flapped in the wind, the rain soaking their armor and chilling them to the bone.
"Cousin, it's pouring. Come inside," Jérôme called out from the tent. The Paladin stood behind François, his back as broad as a wall. "It's warmer inside."
"War doesn't care for warmth," François replied softly, turning to his cousin. "Nor do the greenskins."
"Greenskins?" Jérôme's golden hair was soaked.
"Yes, greenskins." François stood in the rain, looking up at the blackened sky. "In war, you must know how to use your strengths, avoid your weaknesses, and concentrate your forces to annihilate the enemy. You also need to know when the right moment to attack is."
Behind François, the oilcloth covering the supply wagons was pulled back, revealing rows of wooden barricades, anti-cavalry stakes, and vast quantities of crossbow bolts!
The laborers began their work, hammering the wooden barricades deep into the muddy ground under the knights' supervision.
Soon, the entire camp was fortified like a hedgehog.
"What is this?!" Jérôme's eyes widened in surprise. "My Duke, could the greenskins—?"
"Bayard and Pierre have already led 1,000 knights each out," François said with a cruel smile. "Tonight, the goblin wolf cavalry corps will meet its end!"
"Prepare for battle!"
"Prepare for battle!!!"
The sound of horns echoed through the camp.
Amid the rain, Git Sourbelly also heard the horns. He led the entire goblin wolf cavalry across Foulwater River, ready to launch a surprise night attack on the Bretonnian army and their supply convoy.
"Hehe, the enemy is tired, and now I Waaagh!" Git Sourbelly snarled, contorting his face into a grotesque grin. "Tonight, we Waaagh!"
"Waaagh!" Thousands of goblin wolf riders charged across the river, following the orc boar riders in the lead, with squig hoppers, spider riders, and goblin infantry trailing behind.
Git Sourbelly had been waiting for this moment, and now it had come.
The sudden downpour had turned the entire riverbank into a muddy mess, preventing the Bretonnian knights from charging, and the rain rendered their muskets nearly useless. This was the perfect opportunity! The goblin warlord raised his blade, shouting, "Waaagh!"
"Waaagh!!!"
A green tide of goblins surged toward the enemy camp.
Git Sourbelly believed that the rain had given him two advantages: the muskets of the Bretonnians would misfire, and the mud would prevent their cavalry from charging.
This battle was as good as won!
However, just as Git Sourbelly led his massive cavalry toward François's camp, the sight that greeted him made his eyes widen in shock.
Wooden barricades! Anti-cavalry stakes!
The entire camp was fortified like a hedgehog!
Before Git Sourbelly could signal the army to halt, hundreds of orc boar riders crashed into the spiked defenses. From within the camp, a rain of crossbow bolts fired by disguised peasant soldiers armed with dwarven crossbows rained down upon them.
"Thwack, thwack, thwack!" In the downpour, a barrage of bolts felled the charging orcs, their bodies piling up in the mud. The muddy terrain hampered not only the knights but also the greenskin cavalry, which continued to crash into the barricades and stakes, only to be slaughtered.
"Charge! Keep charging!!!" Git Sourbelly commanded the remaining riders. Surely, two rows of wooden barricades couldn't stop his thousands of cavalry and the mass of goblin infantry behind them?
"Waaagh!"
"Waaagh!!!"
Urged on by their warlord, goblin wolf riders and squig hoppers recklessly charged forward. The front line of goblins was cut down by crossbow fire, and those behind trampled over their fallen comrades, determined to overrun the defenses.
The wooden barricades held for a while but couldn't stop the greenskin army forever. As the
greenskins sacrificed wave after wave of bodies, they finally broke through to the camp's gates.
"Prepare," François said, holding the Unicorn Sword. Behind him stood 1,000 knights and squires, shields locked tightly together. The duke remained calm and composed, turning to his courtier Zahis Morningstar. "You may begin."
"Yes!" The Prophetess of the Lady began chanting her magic.
"Boom~" The wooden gates splintered.
"Boom, boom!" The gates finally shattered, and a group of orc boar riders and goblin wolf riders stormed in, roaring as they charged toward François and his army.
But they soon realized something was wrong.
The gate was too narrow! Only two or three goblins could charge through at a time, and François's knights and squires held the narrow opening firmly! The goblin cavalry had no room to charge, nor could they spread out!
The slaughter began!
François stood at the front, moving gracefully through the greenskin ranks. He spun, wielding the Unicorn Sword, and with one sweep of the blade, an orc boar rider was sliced in half.
Two goblin wolf riders charged in next, but François pirouetted, beheading one goblin while dodging the wolf's jaws. A quick flick of his sword, and the wolves were dead.
Every swing of his sword took down a greenskin, every turn of his body leaving a pile of corpses in his wake.
Yet, not a drop of blood touched him. His armor and cloak were soaked with rain, but his figure shone with the divine light of the Lady, bright and radiant, exuding glory and supremacy.
"Follow the duke! Follow the duke!!" Sir Jérôme shouted in the rain, and the Bretonnian knights, bolstered by François's presence, surged forward.
The battle raged on in the downpour, under the moonlight.
François and his knights held the gate. Hundreds of greenskins fell, unable to breach the camp. The ground was soon covered in bodies as François cut down two goblin warlords who tried to challenge him, neither lasting more than a single exchange.
Rain pounded the ground like a war drum as goblin wolf riders threw themselves futilely at the gate, only to be slaughtered. The front ranks fell, the middle ranks were trapped, and the rear couldn't even reach the battle.
"For the Lady! For Bretonnia!!" the knights roared, fighting with abandon.
"Come on, you lot! Take down that shining tin can! Kill him!!" Git Sourbelly shouted in frustration. His army lacked siege equipment, and the rain had turned the battlefield into a chaotic mess. His goblin cavalry was packed tightly along the riverbank, unable to spread out or fight effectively.
Just as Git was ordering his cavalry to spread out and flank the enemy camp, a goblin wolf rider came rushing through the rain. "Boss! Boss! Bad news!"
"What bad news?" Git Sourbelly wiped the rain from his face.
"From the east! A lot of tin cans are charging at us on horseback!"
"What?!" Before Git could respond, another wolf rider came running. "Boss, bad news! There are tin cans charging from the west too! They're so fast, faster than anything I've seen!"
"Ah! We're surrounded!" Git Sourbelly finally realized the dire situation. "Retreat! Retreat!!! Fall back across the river! Retreat!!!"
The greenskins abandoned their assault on the camp and began to retreat. But when Git Sourbelly's wolf riders tried to flee across the river, the swollen waters and strong currents blocked their escape. Hundreds of goblins were swept away.
"This is bad," Git Sourbelly thought grimly. His army of over 12,000 was now trapped on the north bank of Foulwater River in utter chaos, with goblins panicking and trying to cross the river, only to be swept away.
Git Sourbelly looked to the east.
In the distance, he saw the enemy cavalry, forming a lance formation, charging toward his disordered troops.
To the west, another cavalry force was closing in.
And to the north, François had mounted his horse, leading his knights in a lance formation. The Prophetess of the Lady had cast the eighth-circle spell "Swift as the Wind," allowing the knights to move effortlessly despite the rain.
The night sky lit up as Zahis Morningstar continued her spellcasting.
"This goblin wolf cavalry's story ends today, at my hands," François sneered, raising his glowing Unicorn Sword. "My brothers! Charge! For the Lady!"
"For the Lady!!!" With that, the knights charged from three directions, crashing into the mass of goblin wolf riders trapped along the riverbank.
That night, a brutal massacre of the greenskin cavalry began. Under François's command, the Bretonnian knights pursued the goblins for over ten kilometers along Foulwater River. By dawn, the river was choked with greenskin blood and corpses.
Only Git Sourbelly and a little over 100 riders managed to escape with their lives. The goblin wolf cavalry, once 12,000 strong, was wiped out, becoming a mere footnote in history and a badge of honor for the knights.
François achieved a resounding victory, losing fewer than 300 men. His name became a rallying cry among the orcs and a source of terror for the goblins.
This battle became known as the "Battle of Foulwater River."
A week after the Battle of Foulwater River, in the ancestral hall of the dwarves at the World's Edge Mountains, before Skarsnik's throne…
Git Sourbelly knelt, tears streaming down his face, before the Warboss of Eight Peaks. "Boss, it's over!"
"The wolf cavalry… they're all gone!!!"
"What?! All gone???"
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