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Iron Kingdom B3Ch4: Setting a Trap
🕑 Added 2024-11-28 15:00:02 +0000 UTCA brief night and a quick march later, Matt found himself crouched inside of a jumble of rocks, peering at a disorganized camp a few hundred meters away.
If they hadn’t been his enemies, he would have been ashamed of the bandits. Gwelfed had mentioned seeing patrols, but it was clear they hadn’t been very motivated to do their jobs that morning. Nearly his entire force was already in place, ready to strike, and the bandits were all still cooking their lunch.
Snolt crouched beside him. “We’re in position, sire.”
Matt nodded, still watching the camp. He saw no sign of Alliance troops, but in the last fight he’d faced, the Alliance had been able to hide things until it was too late. Uneasy, he glanced at Melren. “Do you see any illusions? Any tricks that could hide enemy troops?”
The Imp made a few brief gestures. Then he shook his head. “No, sire. They appear to be just what they are.”
Melren seemed almost as disgusted as Matt, and Snolt snorted in amusement. The two men shared a brief moment of respect—whatever feelings they had about each other, at least they weren’t those poor idiots—before they returned to ignoring each other. Matt shrugged off the byplay between his allies and went back to watching the camp.
They hadn’t even camped in a good spot! The idiots had picked a small valley that was out of the wind, but it meant they were surrounded by high ground. An enemy could sneak up on them from any direction, and the rain would probably leak down into their camp, practically turning it into a lake. He shook his head over the spot, and then nodded.
He made a gesture, and the signaler for the Royal First blew on her horn. In answer, some of his troops started forward, their weapons ready and their eyes on the bandits below.
The horn seemed to paralyze the bandits for a few crucial moments. There were shouts as they finally caught sight of Matt’s banners coming over the stones towards them. Only three of his banners were going to fight, with the rest remaining hidden. It meant the bandits would technically have a slight advantage, but Matt doubted it would matter.
Matt’s troops formed a battle line as they marched closer, with the Fourth Footmen marching just behind the Second Spears, while the Seventh Riders swept out on the flanks. He hadn’t gone to the effort of tracking these bandits down just to let them escape.
For a few frantic moments, it looked like the bandits were about to form up and face his troops. Then Captain Crep’s Footmen paused for a moment and launched a volley of crossbow bolts, arcing them over the Orc’s heads to land among the milling crowd of raiders.
The carnage was instant. Steel bolts punched through the unarmored bandits in a devastating combination of blows. Bandits that had been drawing back their own bows to fire paused as their friends fell, panic and shock clear on their faces even across the wide distance. Perhaps they were only used to fighting unarmed farmers or harassing towns, but they didn’t seem prepared to see their own friends and companions cut down.
Wounded screamed and yelled for help, and the raiders that had been preparing to face the Spears stepped back from the front lines. Those who were watching the Warg Riders get closer looked far less enthusiastic as the cavalry closed in on the sides. As their friends pulled back, others found their bravery flagging. One by one, then in a rush, the bandits threw down their arms and ran. Matt felt a grin cross his face as he heard the despairing cries of the enemy commanders as their army dissolved around them, their people already heading for the hills.
He glanced at Snolt, who seemed almost disappointed. “Signal for the Seventh to pursue any runners after their first charge. I don’t think Creps is going to need their help.”
Snolt grunted sourly, even as he nodded for the signaler to change their pattern. “True enough, sire. They might not even last—”
The Goblin was still speaking when an entire side of the bandit forces abruptly broke away from the rest. Shouts chased after them, and then arrows and spears as the bandits turned on each other. Matt blinked in shock as the cavalry swept in on their flanks, smashing what was left of their formation to fragments before wheeling away to chase after the deserters. As the remaining bandits tried to turn and fight the cavalry, the Second Spears roared and charged in, the impact driving the remaining bandits backwards. It was like watching a pack of wolves hunt sheep.
To the rear, the Fourth Foot fired another volley of crossbow bolts. The shots rained into the thick of the bandits like a grim rain, and the remaining morale among the fools completely broke. They ran, any remaining organization among them disintegrating.
Almost as quickly as it had begun, the battle was over. Those bandits who weren’t already dead or running began throwing up their hands in surrender, and the rest of Matt’s soldiers focused on chasing down the ones that were trying to escape. The entire thing devolved into a complete rout, something that left a dissatisfied twist in Matt’s gut.
It was all just a waste. If Teblas had just stayed loyal, these men would have been marching under his orders. Even afterwards, why were they still trusting in the Alliance to speak for them, now that Teblas was dead?
Matt shook his head and looked at Snolt, who seemed just as unhappy as he was, though likely for different reasons. “Find me their commanders, if any of them will admit to it.”
Snolt nodded. “You want us to escort them back to Greyspring? We might be able to make it there by nightfall. Then maybe tomorrow we could find someone better to fight.”
“No.” Matt grinned at Snolt’s obvious surprise. “I want you to tell them that anyone who wants to stay out of prison just has to tell me where another bandit camp might be. Anyone who does can head south across the rivers.”
Both Snolt and Melren looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Melren was the first to speak, his words careful. “We’re… letting them go, sire?”
Matt chuckled. “Of course. I don’t want to have to feed them, after all.” He shook his head. “Besides, we’re taking their weapons, and we’ll tell them that the next time we see them on our side of the border, we’ll kill them. No second chances.”
The advisor hesitated. “I see. Still, sire, once they cross the river, they’ll surely tell the Alliance where we are.”
“Good.” Matt met Melren’s gaze for a moment. “The Alliance is coming. I might as well make sure they aren’t sneaking around when they do.”
Snolt muttered something under his breath and then laughed. He bowed to Matt from where he sat on the Warg. “As you say, my liege.” He trotted off among the shouting, pale-faced prisoners, yelling for their leaders to identify themselves.
Matt watched him for a moment and then unfolded the small sketch of the area he’d drawn the night before. He meant to draw the enemy after him, so they would need to move quickly. If all went well, he’d be able to solve multiple problems at once before the real trouble started.
They found half a dozen prisoners who were surprisingly enthusiastic about finding new lives south of the Blackstone. In exchange, they offered up the locations of at least four other camps, three of which Matt believed were actually real, and at least one of which was only a handful of hours away. He allowed them to run south, heading as quickly as they could in the direction of Coorsford.
As he watched them run, Melren cautiously maneuvered his dogelk alongside Nelson. He seemed reluctant to speak, and when he did, he appeared to be trying to stay as deferential as possible. “My liege, may I ask you a question?”
Matt nodded, and the Imp continued in a low voice.
“My liege, you must know that being here will make you a target. Those bandits you sent south will tell the Alliance where we were and where we were headed. If an army hasn’t crossed the Blackstone to hunt us, then they will soon.”
“I doubt they waited that long.” Matt shook his head. “Their… commitments would probably be fairly painful for them to resist. If there are any of their royalty nearby, they’re probably going to be marching after us now.”
Melren grimaced. “Then may I ask why we are letting the bandits tell them where we are? We could just as easily have interrogated them to find that information, and yet here we are, giving ourselves away to the Alliance for free.”
“True.” Matt smiled. “Especially since I doubt that the Alliance has entrusted their defenses in Coorsford to some random soldier. They probably have a member of their royalty in charge, which means it’ll be someone who’s… extra motivated.”
His advisor seemed even more baffled and frustrated now. “Which means they’ll be even more likely to try to hunt us down, would it not?”
Matt grinned at him. “Exactly. They’ll almost have to.”
Melren started to respond, and then he paused. Snolt caught sight of the former nobleman’s expression as he was riding by and laughed. “Don’t worry, Imp, you’ll get used to it.”
The advisor gave the Captain a glare, and Snolt laughed again as he wandered away. Once Snolt was out of earshot again, Melren spoke quietly. “I will trust you know what you’re doing, sire.”
“Have patience, Melren.” Matt felt his grin turn harder. “You’ll see my plan soon enough.”
He sent the remaining prisoners back to Greyspring with about half of the volunteers that had come with him. They weren’t exactly well trained fighters, after all, and sending them back with a firsthand account of the victory would only help his cause there and in the rest of the Sortenmoors.
The rest of the volunteers followed his army as he marched towards Coorsford. It was clear they expected to see another grand battle ahead of them; their excited chatter was audible even over the songs of his troops and the creaking of the supply carts. Matt ignored them, looking at the land around them as they marched south. He had no intention of fighting the Alliance in Coorsford. If the enemy was anything but a complete idiot, they would have already fortified the town as much or more than what he’d seen at Greyspring, and assaulting those fortifications would be a good way to lose countless soldiers for little gain.
When they had marched far enough south that they had passed the nearest of the bandit camps the prisoners had warned him about, Matt turned them along a side road. It cut a bit further to the west; eventually it would rejoin the main road and bring them back towards Coorsford, but for now, it was the best road between the town and the camp.
They had marched for nearly half the day when Matt looked around and called for a halt. As the troops spread out and rested alongside the road, he gestured for the captains to gather around him. Melren nervously hovered nearby, as if uncertain if he would be dismissed, but Matt didn’t see a reason to exclude the former nobleman. Perhaps hearing the plan would make him that much less nervous.
When the officers had gathered around him, Matt gave them a confident grin. “All right. I want you to get ready for a fight.”
Creps, the Captain of the Fourth Foot, frowned. “Are we expecting the enemy here, sire?”
Matt nodded. “Yes. I expect them to leave Coorsford and come after us.”
Captain Ipps of the Seventh Spears, grimaced. Confusion was obvious on the Orc’s face. “Are you sure, sire? I don’t mean to question you, but it seems like they would rather sit behind their walls rather than fighting us in the open.”
“If they were as lazy as you, Captain, I’d say you would be right.” A rumble of chuckles went through the captains, and Ipps rolled his eyes. Matt continued in an even voice. “I believe they will want to save their bandit friends rather than hanging them out to dry. To do that, they’ll have to come out and hunt us down, and here is the best place to catch them while they are doing it.”
Outside the circle of officers, Melren blinked. A slow look of dawning comprehension spread over his face, and Matt gave him a brief warning glance. The last thing he needed was to have the soldiers realize that the Alliance would probably be coming for him, not out of any misguided sympathy for the bandits. Given how Tanya had reacted to Matt using himself as bait in theory, he didn’t want to see how the men with him reacted to actually being used as bait in practice.
Another Orc, Captain Marg of the Second Spears, raised his hand. “Where do you want us to wait, sire?”
Matt pointed to the road. “The Second Spears and Fourth Foot will wait here across the road. The Seventh Warg Riders will wait with me to your right. Our friends from Greyspring will be behind the battleline, holding our flags.”
The single representative from Greyspring jerked in surprise. They nodded nervously, swallowing as they looked around at the others. Matt ignored the curious glances from the rest of the officers and pointed off to the left, where a slight ridge rose above the road. “The Third and Seventh Spears will take up position behind the ride, along with the Eighth and Ninth Foot. The Royal First and Fourth Riders will also stay behind the ridge, further to the south.”
Snolt grimaced, but before he could open his mouth, Captain Wurog of the Fourth Riders raised his hand. “We’re the Headhunters now, sire. Like the Royal First.”
Matt gave him a nod. “Sorry, Captain. The Royal First and the Headhunters will position themselves to the south. On my command, the Riders will come at the enemy from behind, while the Foot and Spears take them in the flank. That should allow us to push the enemy down the hill and convince them to rout.”
This time, Snolt spoke first. “You’re sure they won’t be looking for us, my liege?”
Smiling, Matt shook his head. “No, Captain. The bandits only saw three banners, and that will match what we have on the road. As long as nobody gives their position away, we should be able to take them by surprise with more soldiers than they were expecting. Now, are there any questions?”
The assembled captains shook their heads. Matt nodded a second time. “Then get your men into position. Have our scouts out along the road, and tell them to report back to me as soon as they see our enemies. Take care to not leave any traces when you march up onto the ridge. Stay down, stay silent, and we’ll send the Alliance on their way. Good fortune, and good hunting. For the Kingdom!”
“For the Kingdom!”
The Captains echoed the shout and then headed for their men. Matt watched them for a moment longer and then turned to Melren. “Questions, Melren?”
Melren shook his head. “No, sire. Though I will ask to be with you in the battle.”
Matt looked at him in surprise. He’d been expecting the Imp to stay with the volunteers in one of the safer parts of the field. “You’re sure? We know that the enemy will… have an interest in finding me.”
“All the more reason for me to help you, sire.” Melren glanced at the lifeguards with an apologetic expression. Then he looked back at Matt. “Besides, I don’t believe that the Maiden will accept any excuses if I allow you to get killed when she sent me with you, sire. I’d rather fight the Alliance than take her on!”
It wasn’t long before the scouts came back, riding hard along the road. The Alliance was in fact on its way, with at least ten banners of infantry and cavalry. They were moving fast and showing no signs of slowing down.
Matt had grimaced upon hearing the news. He’d known that the Alliance had plenty of troops left, even after the disaster in the Grim Hollows. Still, being confronted with superior numbers was never a pleasant experience.
The feeling only got more disagreeable as the Alliance troops swung into position and advanced on his lines. He glanced at Melren. “Those cavalry are Chargers, right? From the Order of Lion’s Roar?”
“Yes, sire.” Melren swallowed slightly. “Very effective, from what I understand.”
Effective was probably an understatement. Each Knight was mounted on a warbuck that made Nelson look like an underachiever. The antlers alone could probably have knocked down a brick wall; combining that force with whatever magic the Knights were using could probably send a tank lying end over end on contact.
The fact that he was facing four full banners of the things with only one banner of Warg Riders to help him did not help Matt feel any better about the situation.
Of course, it wasn’t like the rest of his immediate helpers were any better off. There were six full banners of infantry marching towards the Second Spears and Fourth Foot. They wore shining metal armor. About half of them had broad shields and axes, while the other half carried longbows with swords buckled at their sides. “Those are…”
“Men-at-Arms, sire. Also from the Order of Lion’s Roar.” Melren adjusted the reins in his hands a bit nervously. The dogelk he rode would never be able to outrun the Chargers getting ready to attack. “Not as well respected as the Chargers, but still very effective at formation fighting. Their magical strength gives the archers additional range, and the weapons they can wield are that much more dangerous.”
Matt nodded slowly. He watched as the Knights got themselves organized. There was an almost palpable level of confidence about them. He could understand it well enough; after all, why shouldn’t they approach boldly? They were taking on a force more than three times smaller than their own, and their commanders were obviously giving them suspiciously good instructions.
His eyes narrowed as he watched that distant commander gesturing across the lines to where Matt was sitting on top of Nelson. If the Oath hadn’t been giving them any hints, they should have thought he was with the volunteers and their flag. The fact that the Knights clearly knew he was with the Riders instead suggested that his little ruse hadn’t fooled anyone.
He hadn’t been depending on it—quite the opposite, in fact—but it was information that would be good to know. In the future.
A loud trumpet sounded, and the Knights began to move forward. Both Men-at-Arms and Chargers stepped forward in formation, keeping their lines solid. They saw no reason to rush things, apparently. Not when the enemy King had handed himself to them on a silver platter. Matt watched them approach, counting off the distance that they would need to travel for their final charge. His task was made a little easier by a bit of work that Creps’ Footmen had done before the Knights had shown themselves. They’d set up markers along the road to help their crossbows find the range, and Matt kept his eyes on them as the enemy passed each one. Even with the Oath goading them, he doubted the royal on the other side would start a charge before one hundred yards. Which meant that just as they were passing that rock to the right…
Matt reached deep inside himself, just as the trumpets sounded again. Magic, rumbling and crashing inside his chest, began to flow outwards as he constructed the spell in his mind. Melren twitched in surprise, looking at him sideways, but Matt ignored him. He raised his mace, a gesture that the signalers among his soldiers picked up on easily enough. Their horns answered the blaring sounds of the enemy trumpeters, beginning the signals for the true start of the battle.
Creps shouted his orders, and the Fourth unleashed a volley of crossbow bolts. They curved up into the air, but the Men-at-Arms at the front were already raising their thick shields. Matt could already see where the bolts would bounce off, deflected by armor or shields short of their target. The archers in the formation were already pausing, nocking arrows to respond in kind.
It took both sets of Men-At-Arms completely by surprise when a second batch of bolts slashed down from the top of the ridge beside them. Unlike the shots from the Fourth, these came in high and from the side, bypassing the shields and striking at the surprised Knights all along their line. Men and women cried out and fell; their tidy formation grew ragged as some fell, wounded or dying. Those who remained turned to find both banners of Spears already charging down the ridge towards them, ready to crash into their lines. The Second Spears charged as well, the Orcs racing across the road to join the battle.
Matt jerked his eyes away from them. The Chargers hadn’t paused when the ambush began. Instead, they had only poured on more speed. They were already passing the hundred-yard mark, and the warbucks already seemed to be a living wall of force that threatened to bowl straight through his troops. One Charger in particular was waving a long, gleaming sword. He could have sworn the soldier was aiming straight for him, screaming high and loud over the avalanche of hooves, armor, and lances.
He lowered his mace to point at the Chargers and unleashed his magic. Not into their ranks, of course, but into the dirt of the moors in front of them.
Had any of the Prancers or Leapers escaped the Battle of Seven Princes, they might have been able to warn the Chargers of the danger. Perhaps even the Chargers that had fallen into a similar trap at the same battle might have been able to give them reason to pause. Unfortunately for them, it seemed no stories had reached these soldiers of the Alliance about the power he wielded, or what dangers they might face. They clearly only saw an open, if slightly muddy, field, and an enemy that they could easily defeat if they crossed it quickly enough.
All of which meant that nearly fifty yards from Matt, the Chargers found the ground had turned from passable terrain that was a little softened by melting snow and early spring rain to a sucking, deep morass that could have swallowed a legion of warbucks. Their forward momentum and mass still carried them forward, but it was as if they had dived into a patch of quicksand. Knights and warbucks cried out as their charge fragmented, as riders were thrown from their mounts, and as the ranks behind crashed into those still struggling forward. A very lucky few swerved aside, but all semblance of formation and momentum had been lost, and they milled around at the edges of the mudfield as if in shock.
Melren, his eyes wide, muttered an incredulous curse, but the Seventh had seen a similar sight, and worse. They simply freed their blades and made ready, obviously waiting for Matt’s next signal.
The chaos and screaming was enough that it made Nelson stir slightly in sympathy, something that Matt could feel himself. He never liked to see an animal suffer, and frankly, if there had been any other way, he would have tried to convince the enemy to surrender rather than ambushing them with a trick like this one.
Yet the Alliance had, once again, given him no choice, and if he wanted his Kingdom to survive, he only had one possible order.
He raised his mace again and then swept it forward. “Charge!”
The Riders of the Seventh roared around him and swept forward, covering the distance to the struggling Chargers in the mudpit in mere moments. Matt waited until the very last moment, allowing most of the enemy cavalry to trap themselves thoroughly inside the muck before he let the spell collapse. A part of him expected the ground to be suddenly firm again, as it had been in the last battle, but the already-soaked soil proved more reluctant this time. When the Riders fell on the hapless Knights, they found them still struggling free of the clinging mire that Matt had created from nothing.
It didn’t seem to help the Knights much, as the Wargs hurled themselves on necks and heads. Goblins slashed and cut as they plunged into the midst of their enemies, seeking openings in the enemy’s armor and shields. The Knights yelled and shouted, stabbing back with lances or drawing swords to exchange blows. At least one giant of a man was lashing out with a mace that could have broken down a concrete wall, trying to force his struggling warbuck forward.
Matt and his lifeguard rushed in among the enemy, swinging as hard as he could at the nearest enemies. Even half-buried in mud, the Knights were not easy prey. One Knight lunged at him with a sword; only for Nelson to knock him from his mount and trample him. Another thrust at Matt with a lance, but Matt knocked the spearpoint aside and ducked in close to bash the woman over the head. As she fell away, he spared a glance for the infantry battle, where he saw Wargs charging into the rear of the Men-at-Arms. It looked as if the enemy there was starting to break, but he wondered what it would take to make them all run.
All of a sudden, he realized he had pushed much further into the battle than he had intended. His lifeguards were shouting at him, but there were Warg Riders and Chargers between them and him. Matt lashed out with his mace and Nelson smashed his way forward with his horns, but there were too many people fighting and shoving in the mud. There had to be something he could—
Someone smashed into him, moving with impossible speed and strength. Matt shouted as he was pulled from the saddle and into the mud. He landed flat on his back in the muck, with a screaming Knight raising her sword for a finishing blow. Nelson stumbled into her, but the Knight didn’t even seem to notice; it was like she was made of solid stone, and the warbuck just bounced off of her. Her grip on Matt’s jack of plate was an iron claw, keeping him in place. Her sword started to descend.
Which is the moment when Nelson kicked her, square in the back, with a hoof that could splinter a wall. She grunted, losing her grip on his armor so she could brace herself in the mud. Her strike went to the side, burying the shining blade up to half its length in the mud.
Matt grimaced and threw himself to the side, rolling in the mud. The sword missed him again by a hairsbreadth, and he forced himself back to his feet, gasping for air. How was she so fast and strong? Knights had magical enhancements, but he’d never seen anything like this before. She swung at him again, and he dodged back, trying to open up the distance. He ran into someone behind him and nearly fell again, but he shoved them away and tried to circle around back to where he could see Nelson rearing and lashing out with his hooves at other targets, who didn’t fare half as well as this one did.
“I’ve found you, Tyrant! I’ve found you, and I will end it!” The Knight rushed forward. He couldn’t see her face through the grill of her helmet, but the fury in her words made him picture her lips twisted with a sneer of complete hatred. Once-fine livery had been etched into her chestplate, and Matt’s eyes widened as he realized he wasn’t just fighting any opponent. The commander, the ruler who had sworn the Oath, had forced her way to him directly.
He ducked another swing and then met another with a strike of his own. His mace clashed with her sword, and she nearly knocked the weapon from his hand. Matt went backwards again, frantically swinging to gain space. The Knight followed, her sword slashing and hacking, each time nearly disarming him with the strength of her attacks.
Then, suddenly, one of his lifeguard was there, an Orc named Balred. His spear stabbed into the Knight from behind, catching her in the gap between her helmet and her breastplate. It went in deep, and then snapped as the Orc continued his charge. She started to spin around and strike at the lifeguard, but Matt seized the chance and swung at her with all the strength in both his arms.
The blow caught the Knight right on top of the helmet. There was a sickening crunch, and the Knight went facedown in the mud. Matt followed up with another three strikes, not knowing if his first hit had killed her or just knocked her down. Then he stumbled back upright to find that Balred had cut his way through another two Knights with his sword and grabbed Nelson’s reins. His lifeguard gestured for him to come, and Matt slogged his way through the mud to reach his mount.
By the time he managed to force himself back up onto Nelson’s back, the battle had shifted again. He saw the banner of the Royal First on the opposite side of the Chargers; clearly, Snolt had chosen to strike the rear of the cavalry rather than the infantry. It seemed to have been a wise enough choice; the Men-at-Arms were already routing, and the Chargers were beginning to cry out in surrender. There were some who might have been able to get away, but crossbow bolts were raining down on them, as well as the most stubborn knots of resistance. Between them and the Wargs, Matt doubted that many of the enemy would escape.
He started to head back into the thickest fighting, but Balred abruptly grabbed his reins. The Orc gave him a look and shook his head, even as the rest of his lifeguard took up positions around him again. Matt glared at the lifeguards and then looked at the mud-covered fighting still taking place. It was nearly done anyway; it might have even been finished before he reached it. Still feeling sullen, he allowed Balred and the others to lead him back towards the edge of the corpse-strewn mudpit.
“Sire! Sire!” Melren was suddenly there as Matt escaped the last of the clinging morass. The advisor seemed to have seen some action as well, though he obviously hadn’t taken the dogelk into the melee with the warbucks. Relief was clear on the Imp’s face. “Oh, thank the gods above and below! When I couldn’t see you—”
“I’m fine, Melren. Just got a little distracted, was all.” He forced a casual tone into his voice. It was somewhat sabotaged by the roughness in his throat. “I want all surrenders to be accepted. The prisoners can be disarmed and sent back to Greyspring, like the bandits. From there, they can be escorted all the way back to Redspire.”
Melren gave him an incredulous look. “Yes, sire. But what if there are some who… refuse to surrender?”
He didn’t feel up to mincing words. “Their commander is dead. Balred and I saw to it personally.” The lifeguard blinked and looked at him in surprise. Matt ignored the look. “See that she is dragged out of that and given a proper burial. She fought well enough to earn it, even if she’s one of the fools responsible for all this… waste.”
The Imp opened his mouth to respond, only for cheering to break out. Matt looked over to see the shattered remnants of the enemy infantry running, with the Royal First in hot pursuit. The Chargers, for their part, were all now holding their weapons aloft. Their postures seemed to express both shock and despair, an impression that their mud-streaked uniforms only made worse. Wounded and dying Knights were still scattered across the field or half-buried in the mud, crying out for rescue.
Matt forced himself not to look at the Goblins, Orcs, and Imps that were lying in the mire along with the enemies. There was a cost to fighting a war, and he knew it all too well by now. He thought back to the princess that had tried to kill him and wondered how many more bodies it would take to end all of it.
