On the 17th of May, 9720, after receiving the sixty cartloads of grain and the farming tools supplied by Alik, Velin departed with his men, formally beginning his pioneering journey.
Having stayed here for a fortnight with considerable embarrassment, he could scarcely wait to bid Brian farewell before setting off for Tokshik.
Standing atop the castle tower, Brian watched the departing party with a sigh, a hint of reluctance in his gaze.
"My lord, while clearing Lord Velin's quarters, the steward discovered three hundred gold coins," the castle steward approached Brian, bowing his head to report.
Brian froze upon hearing this, then smiled wryly. "He likely feared I'd refuse if given directly, hence this underhanded method."
"Master, what shall we do with them?"
"Accept them." Brian gazed into the distance, his eyes deepening. "Next time we trade, remind me. My brother mustn't be short-changed."
"Yes, Master."
The steward withdrew. Brian remained alone on the tower, watching Velin's departure.
After five days' travel, they reached the outskirts of Tokshik. While ordering his men to set up camp, Velin commanded Baird to dispatch scouts to reconnoitre the surrounding terrain.
Their arrival had also drawn the attention of a relatively powerful goblin tribe in the vicinity.
Two days later, within a tent, Velin gathered all twelve of his knights for a brief military council.
Given the rudimentary facilities, all sat cross-legged upon the ground.
"Gentlemen, after two days of reconnaissance, the general situation is as depicted here. Share your assessments."
Amidst the group, several makeshift wooden tables cobbled together from crates held a rudimentary map covering hundreds of square kilometres of the surrounding terrain.
The map marked numerous goblin tribes, large and small. A rough count revealed no fewer than twenty settlements.
The largest contained over three hundred goblins, while the smallest housed several dozen. Combined, their numbers were estimated at over two thousand.
"My lord, it is my humble opinion that we should concentrate our forces to eliminate the strongest tribe. Should the remaining goblins unite in response to the threat, they would pose little danger to us and might even turn on each other," Captain Baird of the Knight Guard pointed to the largest tribe on the map as he presented his strategy.
"Hmm, sound reasoning. The goblin race is greedy and base, particularly prone to bullying the weak and fearing the strong. Eliminating their strongest leader will leave the remaining tribes, even if united, without a formidable commander. They'll descend into internal strife, allowing us to defeat them one by one."
Velin nodded in agreement, then turned to the others, seeking further perspectives.
Yet he had overestimated their intellect. The remaining eleven exchanged glances, then fixed their gaze upon Velin, their clear eyes betraying utter befuddlement.
"As expected, among these twelve, only Baird is fit to command. The rest are, at best, material for generals."
Still, he was satisfied.
Soldiers were not hard to recruit; what was truly scarce were commanders capable of leading them, and a competent commander was even rarer.
This principle held true even in this otherworldly realm renowned for its might.
Of course, sufficient strength alone could shatter any scheme or stratagem.
Had Velin commanded a thousand Bronze Knights, he could have simply swept through, slaughtering every goblin on this land and seizing it effortlessly. Why bother discussing strategies here at all?
After waiting several minutes with no one speaking up, Velin looked around in disappointment and declared, "We shall adopt Baird's proposal this time. Make preparations; we commence operations tomorrow."
"Aye, my lord."
The men answered in unison before leaving the tent to return to their own quarters and prepare.
Orlando and Hibrael, who had been standing guard outside the tent, saw the others depart and lifted the curtain to enter.
"My lord, is something troubling you?" Orlando approached, noticing Velin's somewhat despondent demeanour.
"Nothing, merely a touch of melancholy. Why are there so few clever men among my men?"
Hibrael, observing this, inquired curiously, "My lord, are those knights truly so foolish?"
"Silence, Hibrael," Orlando admonished softly, turning to Velin with an apologetic expression. "My lord, my brother speaks without restraint. I beg your forgiveness."
"It's fine. Such remarks are acceptable in my presence, but never utter them in public."
"Understood, my lord." Hibrael, realising his error, hastily acknowledged.
"Enough. You two, go prepare. You shall join the campaign against the goblin tribe. Merely cultivating without practical combat experience will not serve your growth."
"Understood, my lord."
Orlando and Hibrael took their leave of Velin and departed the tent.
Upon returning to their own quarters, Orlando immediately pulled his brother into a corner and scolded sternly, "Hibrael, what did I tell you?"
Meeting his brother's expression, Hibrael's eyes darted nervously as he stammered, "Speak less, do more."
"And what exactly did you accomplish today?"
"Brother, I..." Hibrael hung his head.
"Sigh—" Orlando gazed at his younger sibling, his voice tinged with resignation. "There must be no repeat. Our Lord treats us as kin, but others may not. Remember that."
"Yes!"
Hibrael nodded emphatically, then joined his elder brother in preparing for tomorrow's battle.
Since awakening their magical power, the two had trained for less than a month and a half. Now they were both mid-tier Bronze Knights, their progress leaving Velin in the dust. By his estimation, within a year at most, his two underage Guardian Knights would become Silver Knights.
Yet, with their knightly oaths and the Life Goddess as witness, he harboured no fear of their defection.
Besides, Orlando and Hibrael possessed no reason to betray him.
…
Boulder Tride, within a luxurious cavern, a goblin chieftain clutching a staff grew visibly flustered after hearing his scout's report.
"Did you see clearly? There are hundreds of them."
"Elder, that band of humans truly numbers in the hundreds, each armed to the teeth. I'd stake my life on it."
"What are we to do?"
The goblin chief paced back and forth, pondering countermeasures. Was flight the only option once more?
Over thirty years prior, his tribe had encountered human settlers, forcing their first migration.
A decade ago, they faced human settlers again, compelling another exodus.
Now, having fled to this very place, they encountered human settlers still.
"Great Goblin God, guide your humble servant."
The Goblin Chief knelt before the idol, offering his prayers.
Yet the hideous statue remained unresponsive. With no choice, the Chief rose, his face hardening with resolve. He would save himself—if not for his people, then for the salt mine they'd so painstakingly discovered. He barked an order: "Summon the chieftains of the neighbouring tribes! I must consult with them on urgent matters to defend our territory."
"Aye, Chieftain!"
Several goblin warriors stationed around the cave responded in unison before departing.