A fortuitous windfall on the march... After fueling up on Giant Buffalo steaks, the Advance Force resumed its trek toward the Northern Fortress.
We magically froze the surplus meat, packing it into carriages alongside our other supplies. Whatever wouldn't fit was smoked for preservation and distributed among the soldiers as personal rations.
After several days of travel, we finally reached the fortress at the border.
A river cut across the northern side of the stronghold, and beyond it lay a dense, lightless forest.
"That forest is home to the foreign tribes," Dieble explained, pointing toward our destination. "In this kingdom, it's known as the Ogre Nest."
"The tribes are divided into several factions. The Ogrekin, Winged Race, Lizardmen, and Insectmen are particularly bellicose. They’ve invaded the Aiwood Kingdom more times than I can count."
"It’s a bit late to ask, but what exactly are they after?" I inquired.
"Primarily plunder. They raid villages and towns for food and valuables. Sometimes they even abduct young women and children."
"So they’re just bandits," I said, my face twisting in distaste. "Different species, same lawless filth."
The mere thought of what happened to those women and children made my blood boil.
"Not all the tribes are hostile, mind you," Dieble added. "The Forest Race and Horse Race are said to be peaceful, avoiding conflict with our kind."
"Forest Race and Horse Race..."
Elves and Centaurs, maybe? Come to think of it, despite this being a fantasy world, I hadn't actually encountered any demi-humans or non-human races yet. If we weren't about to kill each other, I might have been excited about the meeting.
(I’d like to talk to them, assuming they weren't trying to kill me...)
"Do we ever strike back? Take the fight into the forest?"
"Counter-invasions have been attempted, but they always fail. Fighting on the enemy's home turf is a nightmare."
"The geographical advantage is all theirs. That makes sense."
A forest negated numerical superiority. If an enemy used the trees for guerrilla warfare, we’d just be stacking bodies for no gain.
"I heard the fortress was under siege, but it looks quiet enough from here," I noted.
There were no enemies in sight. The Ogre Nest seemed perfectly still... or so I thought.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The earth itself seemed to rumble as a roar erupted from the woods. Suddenly, a swarm of figures burst from the tree line.
They were red-skinned humanoids, towering nearly two meters tall. Judging by the horns protruding from their heads, these were the Ogrekin.
"Fire!"
The Ogrekin hurled axes and spears at the fortress walls. The river between the forest and the fortress was nearly two hundred meters wide—a distance no hand-thrown weapon should have been able to cross. And yet, the projectiles bridged the gap in a heartbeat.
"Look at that range! The power is insane..."
I gasped. In my previous world, the world record for the javelin throw was roughly ninety-eight meters. These creatures were clearing twice that distance with ease, their weapons striking the fortress without losing a shred of momentum.
"Brace for impact! Release the magic!"
Someone bellowed from the ramparts. Spells of fire and wind surged forth, knocking the projectiles out of the air.
"Here comes the next wave! All units, intercept!"
Then came the follow-up.
Figures plummeted from the clouds. Armed with spears and wings outspread, they dove from the sky—the Winged Race. Over a hundred airborne soldiers descended upon the defenders on the walls.
"Knock those birds out of the sky! Watch the ground! They're coming from below!"
"GYAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Another wave of reinforcements arrived. Eerie shadows surged from the river, charging the fortress. They were humanoid, but armored in blue-green scales and trailing long tails. They looked more like monsters than the others—the Lizardmen.
"Cross the river!"
"Follow the lead!"
The Ogrekin who had been throwing weapons from the far bank dove into the water, surging toward the walls.
The war was very much alive. The silence of moments ago had been a facade, replaced by the roar of a brutal clash.
"This is...!"
"Our allies are being overrun! To battle!"
Bareia Catreia, commander of the Advance Force, took charge immediately.
"Infantry and warriors, to the front! Hold the line! Mages, support from the rear! Open fire!"
"Yes, sir!"
The Advance Force reacted with practiced speed. Soldiers with spears, swords, and greatshields fanned out, forming a defensive line to intercept the crossing. We took our positions behind them, shielded by the wall of steel.
"More humans over there!"
"Kill them! Butcher them all!"
The Ogrekin crossing the river spotted us and pivoted to attack. The battle had found us the moment we arrived. Without a second to rest our travel-weary bones, the struggle for survival began.