Victor's domain resembled an inverted triangle lying on its left side, although somewhat irregular in shape, it still bore a vague resemblance to a triangle.
The southern boundary stretched to the sea, the northeastern border abutted Selitas Barony, the northern border adjoined the territory of Viscount Manita, and the entire southeastern section bordered Klint Barony.
Natural landmarks defined the borders: hills and rivers. The only area with a mountain range lay beyond the river to the west. Victor hadn't conducted any surveys in this region yet, but he fervently hoped to find valuable resources there.
However, until a fortress was constructed to secure his domain from monsters and Viscount Manita's aggression, he dared not initiate explorations or extract any resources.
Late at night, a small infantry group equipped with two wagons set out from the castle, comprised of the best soldiers from his guard. The detachment included sixty Iron Knights, two Silver Knights, and two dwarves, unexpectedly rated only as Silver Peak.
Alganis explained that their lower ranking was due to their lack of magical inclinations; they relied primarily on sheer physical strength. Their Silver Peak status approximated an intermediate Golden Rank among humans.
Similarly, orcs lacked magic altogether, fighting purely through brute strength. Nonetheless, certain orcs could match legendary knights in combat and even emerge victorious.
Among orcs, there were also mages, referred to as shamans, who channeled natural elements. Rumors claimed they could invoke ancestral spirits to temporarily rejoin the living and fight alongside them.
Listening intently to Alganis' explanation, Victor marveled at this newfound knowledge, as his predecessor had strictly forbidden any discussions related to magic, knights, or anything potentially upsetting.
Accompanied by these tales, the troop advanced along the coastline, deliberately avoiding villages and areas where they might encounter locals. The lord feared encountering traitors or spies from the northern neighbor, who could tip off their adversaries, negating any chance of surprise.
As dawn approached, the detachment established camp approximately five kilometers from the outpost. The fortress lay deep within his territory, about one hundred kilometers northwest.
Viscount Manita's brazenness deserved a response. Dislodging them from this position wasn't simply a matter of honor—it promised profit.
Still, Victor delayed his assault, knowing that intelligence on enemy numbers was outdated. Alganis had undertaken a personal reconnaissance mission to gather fresh data.
Typically, successful sieges required attackers to outnumber defenders by roughly three-to-one. However, Victor couldn't risk sacrificing his entire force to capture this position. It was crucial to eliminate Manita's troops while preserving his own soldiers—a daunting task for an inexperienced commander.
Sequestered in his tent, surrounded by soldiers, Victor scrutinized a map, attempting to recall relevant military strategies from Earth's history. But his mind produced only iconic tank battles or movie scenes, none of which applied to his current dilemma.
While pondering solutions, footsteps echoed outside, and Alganis appeared.
— My lord, my assessment indicates around one hundred twenty soldiers, — Alganis began, followed by Linea and two dwarves entering the tent. After a brief pause, he continued: — This contingent is led by a Silver-ranked captain and three Bronze-ranked assistants.
— Describe the fortress, — Victor inquired.
— It's a standard makeshift fort constructed from available materials, — Alganis elaborated.
According to his report, the fort consisted of three-meter-tall timber walls and earthen ramparts. Fortunately, the absence of nearby water meant no moat could be dug, reducing its defensibility.
— Any suggestions? — Victor asked, unsure how to proceed.
No one offered immediate answers. Such temporary forts, historically used in military campaigns, presented predictable advantages and disadvantages.
— With more troops and a battering ram, we could breach the gates and storm inside, — Geldor finally suggested.
"If we had those resources, I would've attacked head-on," Victor thought ruefully.
Unable to devise a feasible strategy, Victor settled on a risky plan.
Dismissing everyone from the tent, he spent the day fruitlessly trying to recall any relevant siege tactics. By nightfall, he ordered the removal of all spirit-filled barrels from the wagon, essential to his impromptu plan.
His objective: ignite the wooden structure. Though local builders typically treated timber with pitch to repel fire, alcohol could overcome this obstacle. Moreover, concentrated alcohol generated exceptionally hot flames, sufficient to penetrate even pitch-protected wood.
Leaving the tent, he summoned the dwarves and Alganis, tasking them with secretly maneuvering the cart close to the fort's gates under cover of darkness.
The plan was hazardous, and Victor acknowledged its absurdity, but lacking alternatives, he proceeded.
Three Silver-ranked knights easily transported the cart, capable of bearing its load even with hands free.
Hearing the plan, the dwarves clutched their hammers, their expressions signaling aggressive intent. Geldor and Baldor struggled to control their urge to attack but ultimately complied, agreeing to the scheme despite reservations.
On cue, the trio moved silently toward the fort.
In this world, once war commenced, objections were disregarded. Regardless of how irrational the plan, it would be executed unless a superior option arose. Thus, they acted without hesitation.
Unbeknownst to them, Linea also expressed interest in participating, but Victor categorically rejected her involvement. Her safety was paramount; losing her would jeopardize his plans concerning Klint territory.
Though annoyed, Linea threatened rebellion, insisting on accompanying the group. Ultimately, Victor diffused the situation by warning her that refusal would invalidate their agreement.
Prepared, the trio began pushing the cart, while Victor and his soldiers waited at the forest's edge, overlooking the fort.
The fortress itself covered an area comparable to a soccer field, situated in a clearing surrounded by a two-hundred-meter buffer zone.
Victor tracked their progress as they carefully guided the cart toward the gates, minimizing sound. Despite precautions, the cart's faint creaking echoed eerily, akin to a dragon's roar.
Slowly advancing, the cart reached the gate. Strangely, the fort's defenders showed no reaction. Taking advantage, the trio poured alcohol from a barrel onto the cart and adjacent wall segment before retreating to safety.
On cue, archers ignited their arrows, wrapped in fabric strips.
Four archers, the first soldiers deployed by the earl, fired simultaneously. Initially, the fort's defenders remained passive, but once the flaming projectiles landed, chaos erupted. Bells rang shrilly, and panicked shouts filled the air.
Victor's pulse raced, adrenaline coursing through him. Glancing around, he realized he was the only one experiencing such turmoil; his soldiers, dwarves, and knights remained calm and focused.
Blue flames engulfed the cart, brighter than expected. However, the barrels themselves failed to ignite properly.
Defenders atop the walls reacted predictably, readying for combat but careful to avoid the blazing section.
Just as Victor prepared to issue attack orders, an explosion rocked the area. One of the alcohol barrels had detonated, spreading fire along the wall.
— My lord, if the whole fort catches fire, they'll evacuate via the northern gate, — Alganis reminded him.
Understanding the implication, Victor promptly ordered an assault, leading his troops toward the northern sector. The portion they had ignited was clearly compromised, increasing the probability of total destruction.
Troops raced behind their leader, blades drawn, determined to reach the specified point. Nevertheless, they arrived too late.
Victor, scanning the area, noted that the fort's defenders had already fled. Realizing the battle's unpredictability, he reorganized his men into formation.
Meanwhile, enemy soldiers also formed ranks. The chaotic initial phase gave way to a conventional field battle, devoid of tactical complexity.
Positioning himself at the forefront, Victor delegated responsibility: the dwarves and Alganis would confront the fort's captain and assistants, while Linea would provide rear support.
Unconcerned about taking center stage, he remained behind the line, mindful of the adage, "A missile doesn't discriminate."
Initially, the clash unfolded conventionally. Geldor leaped onto Baldor's shoulders, vaulting into the enemy ranks and carving a path through tightly packed soldiers with his hammer.
Battle ensued, but something felt off. Victor's troops fought valiantly, yet their adversaries weren't ordinary soldiers. According to Alganis, regular troops couldn't pose serious challenges to Iron Knights.
Observing further, Victor identified a shocking phenomenon: two dwarves battled a single individual, their collisions producing distinctly powerful, magical impacts far beyond the Silver rank.
— My lord! A Gold-ranked knight! — Alganis shouted, fending off three Bronze-ranked assistants.
"How did a Gold-ranked knight end up here? Since when do they guard forts?"
Confusion overwhelmed him as his troops began to lose ground.
Suddenly, a hushed male voice echoed nearby. Turning, Victor saw one of his soldiers fatally stabbed, followed by another casualty.
Within seconds, three soldiers lay dead.
Victor's mind reeled, but reality returned swiftly. Combat intensified, defeat seeming inevitable.
Determined to intervene, Victor tightened his grip on his hammer. At his side, Linea drew her sword, a slightly larger version of a rapier.
Preparing to charge, he suddenly noticed his hammer glowing faintly, a strange rune forming on its surface.
— Let's hope this turns out useful, or better yet, miraculous, — he muttered, raising the hammer above his head.
Instantly, a circle of light radiated outward, enveloping his soldiers. Empowered, they charged recklessly, ignoring enemy attacks and overwhelming opponents.
Dwarves, emboldened by this transformation, gained incredible speed and strength, employing coordinated attacks to subdue the Gold-ranked knight.
In an instant, everything changed. One of Victor's soldiers crushed an enemy's helmet bare-handed.
"What madness is this? Have I turned them into savages?"
Struggling to maintain control, Victor watched as his troops degenerated into brutal combatants. Linea, initially docile, now hacked indiscriminately at foes, obliterating any trace of rationality.
Thirty minutes later, the last remaining enemy—a Gold-ranked knight—cried out in surrender.
Surrounded by exhausted soldiers and piles of corpses, Victor eyed the devastation.
Of his original sixty soldiers, only thirty survived.
"No way I'll accept your surrender," he thought grimly.
— Geldor! Baldor! Kill him! — he shouted emphatically.
Baldor, moving swiftly, kneecapped the knight, distracting him long enough for Geldor to deliver a decisive blow, shattering the knight's helm and killing him instantly.
— Victory ours, — Victor sighed resignedly, grieving his Pyrrhic triumph.