Chapter 106 - 105: To Bleed a Marching Army

Chapter 106: Chapter 105: To Bleed a Marching Army One Month Later Goblin Village - Council Hall The map table stood at the center of the war room, its wooden surface scarred by years of use. Symbols carved in charcoal marked the territory. A breeze drifted in from the open windows, but the room felt airless. Heavy. Skitz leaned forward, one claw tapping an anxious rhythm on the map’s edge. Aren stood with arms crossed, brow furrowed. Grokk loomed like a stone statue near the back, while Shade remained in the corner, half-shrouded in shadow as always. A scout stood at attention before them, feathers still clinging to his shoulder from the golden eagle he’d carried. "They bear the silver lion of House Ravenshade," the scout said grimly. "Five hundred strong. Infantry and light cavalry." Murmurs rippled across the room. But no one asked why they’d come. They already knew. They’d come for the elf, and likely their heads as well. Lumberling sat at the head of the stone table, his eyes unreadable. Around him stood his most trusted: Skitz, Grokk, Aren, and Shade. They had all gathered as soon as the reports came in. No one spoke of returning the elf. They only waited for their Lord’s word. Lumberling leaned forward, both hands pressed to the rough wood of the war table. He stared at the map, marked with trails and landmarks, his jaw tight. Five hundred soldiers. Not conscripts. Not raiders. Pentaline regulars. A trained force, marching under a noble’s banner. And possibly led by a True Knight. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly. This was the price of a single choice. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but carried through the room like a command. "We fight them." Silence met his words. He looked up. "I’m sorry," he said. "For dragging you all into this." No one moved. "Saving the elf, leaving the Duskpire Legion... it was a dumb decision. Naive. I thought things would work out, that luck would favor us. I didn’t plan. I just reacted." He met their eyes, one after another. "I chose to protect her, even knowing the risks. And now, there’s a damned army marching through our woods. Maybe even a True Knight among them." A heavy silence fell. The words hung there, True Knight, like a sword over all their necks. But none of them looked afraid. Grokk crossed his arms, snorting. "It wasn’t dumb. It was you." "Exactly," Skitz added, flicking his dagger into the air and catching it. "You could’ve tossed her back to those nobles. Let her rot in a cage. But you didn’t. That’s the kind of dumb I’ll follow." Aren nodded solemnly. "You stood for someone who couldn’t stand for herself. If that’s a mistake, then the world needs more of it." Even Shade, near the edge of the firelight, gave a soft chitter and inclined his massive head. Lumberling felt something tighten in his chest, not fear, but... pressure. From their faith. Their loyalty. "...Thank you," he said quietly. Then he stood. "Enough drama. Time to think of strategy." He turned back to the map, his tone sharpening. "Send word to Krivex. Tell them to return with all haste. We’ll need their support." Skitz tapped a claw against the table. "At their pace, they’ll be here in a week. Maybe less if they push." "Good." Lumberling walked to the map on the wall, etched bark and charcoal lines marking the surrounding hills, trails, and river routes. "We’ll hold until then. We know this terrain. They don’t." He looked around the room again, his voice calm and steady. "We’re not prey. We are thorn, root, and fang." ..... Eastern Ridge - Blackroot Forest Five Days Later The air was sharp with the scent of pine and tension. A golden eagle circled overhead, its cry slicing through the morning silence. Below, a goblin scout sprinted across the mossy clearing, boots muffled by loam. He knelt before the gathered officers, breathless. "They’re closer than expected," he gasped. "Two days out, at most. Less if they push through the southern glades." Murmurs rose from the soldiers. Skitz’s ears twitched. "Krivex still hasn’t returned?" "Nothing yet," another scout said. "No sign. No signal." Lumberling didn’t speak. He stood at the edge of a rocky ledge overlooking the lower forest, eyes scanning the sun-dappled sea of trees. The leaves whispered like ghosts, the wind cold on his skin. His jaw tightened. They had run out of time. Earl Cedric’s army had moved with unnatural speed. Five hundred elite soldiers, methodically advancing through the forest trails. At their head marched a Knight One Stage, with three Quasi-Knights, seven Knight Apprentices, and eight Knight Pages flanking him. It wasn’t a noble’s token detachment. It was a hammer meant to crush. And Krivex’s reinforcements were still days away. A voice broke the silence. "We can’t fight them here," Skitz muttered, narrowing his eyes at the distant tree line. "Not in the village. Not with the kids and the old ones still inside the walls." "We won’t," Lumberling said. He turned to face the gathered captains. His voice was steady. "We strike first." The soldiers straightened, and silence fell over the forest once more. "We’ll choose the ground. Bleed them before they ever see the village. Split their lines. Maim their momentum." He looked each one in the eye. "They want a clean hunt. We give them a forest full of teeth." He nodded to Aren. "Prepare the soldiers. Every unit. No more waiting." .... Later that morning – Central command tent. A worn parchment map lay stretched across the table, rocks pinning its corners. Symbols marked hills, glades, chokepoints, and false trails. Skitz reviewed the numbers aloud. "Enemy force: five hundred. One True Knight, three Quasi-Knights, seven Knight Apprentices, and eight Knight Pages." "Elite soldiers," Grokk growled. "Disciplined. Trained." "Which means they’ll follow formation and orders," Skitz smirked. "And formations break in these woods." Lumberling folded his arms, gaze narrowing at the map. Their own forces were fewer, 214 able warriors. But they weren’t without strength. Skitz and Shade stood at the Quasi-Knight level. Grokk, their axe-wielding tank, was a Peak Knight Apprentice Level. Aren, the spear duelist, held firm as a Knight Apprentice. Gorrak was nearing his breakthrough, at Peak Knight Page Level. Trask, Rogar, and Karnark, vice captains and elites, each at Knight Page. Uncle Drake and Orrin, both veterans, had insisted on joining despite their age. And then, there were the units: 54 elite squad members - hobgoblin and elite kobold veterans. 43 Guard units – trained defenders of the village. 33 Scout units – agile and deadly in the forest. 57 new recruits – mostly young goblins and kobolds who had never seen real war but burned with reckless eagerness. 17 combat-trained wolves, led by Lunira, herself at Knight Page level. The math wasn’t on their side. But the forest was. Lumberling tapped the map with two fingers, slow and firm, like marking a grave. "We make them bleed early. Set ambush points here," he said, circling a ravine. "Their cavalry won’t be able to charge. If we fell these trees here and here" he pointed to choke points "we’ll slow their advance by half a day." "And if we scatter scouts along the ridge," Aren added, "we can pick off their outriders before they find our flanks." "Lunira’s wolves can hit their rear lines," Skitz offered. "Create noise. Disrupt supplies. Maybe even turn the soldiers against the terrain." Grokk cracked his knuckles. "I’ll hold the line in the southern pass. That’s where they’ll try to push through." Lumberling nodded. "Good. We’ll divide into strike groups. No drawn-out engagements. Hit, fade, trap." His voice hardened. "This won’t be a battle. It’ll be a hunt." ..... That evening. As the soldiers prepared and wolves howled in the distance, Lumberling stood by a pine tree just outside the command tent, gazing up at the stars slowly winking to life above the canopy. Uncle Drake approached, leaning on a spear. "You ever think," Drake muttered, "we were meant to die in a nice warm trench somewhere? Instead of freezing our asses off in the middle of a suicide mission?" Lumberling chuckled, a bitter edge in his breath. "Sometimes. But then again, I never imagined goblins, kobolds, wolves, and humans fighting side by side either." Drake looked toward the flickering torches and the soldiers milling quietly around the camp. "They believe in you, you know." Lumberling didn’t answer immediately. He exhaled. "I’m just trying not to waste the lives given to me." Drake grunted. "Try not to waste your own while you’re at it." Lumberling didn’t reply. His gaze shifted beyond the trees. He glanced past the pine, toward the distant hut where Sylra slept. She didn’t know they were going to war for her. He didn’t know if that made it better or worse.