Chapter 2: The First Battle Begins

Horten found himself in Gottingen County, a region located in the northeast of the Losalinia Principality, close to the modern-day Ruhr area. In medieval times, it was a land of dense forests, swamps, and rivers, inhabited by various roving bandits and ruffians. The land was rugged, making agriculture difficult, and trade heavily relied on the riverways. Monasteries and free cities were the primary economic engines, while the savage noble lords often oppressed the common folk.

In this semi-magical world, danger lurked around every corner.

Horten knew that the key to a successful army was effective communication, so he promptly appointed team leaders and standard bearers for the three squads. He also positioned the archers in between the two squads of spearmen while marching.

Although this force consisted of only 120 men, Horten spent a considerable part of the day familiarizing himself with the nuances of military command. Despite the system's support and basic discipline, along with some military knowledge, these were still basic militiamen. They tended to fall behind, stumble, or even twist their ankles while marching.

After covering 8 kilometers, they were getting close to the high hill mentioned in the Countess's plea for help. With the troops already fatigued, Horten ordered a rest break. During the mealtime, he dispatched two agile archers to scout ahead.

The archers quickly returned with a report, stating that around the high hill where the Countess was trapped, there were three Green Skin tribes, with hundreds of Green Skins in total.

Green Skins, orcs, were a malignant species found all over the world. They consisted of the smallest Fartlings (also known as Snotlings), cunning but weak Goblins, and the tall and robust Green Skins orcs. Fartlings were tiny, child-sized creatures, serving as both food reserves and cannon fodder. Goblins, though sly, were small and often moved in groups. Green Skins orcs, on the other hand, were tall and formidable, serving as the core forces of any Green Skin warband.

Green Skin tribes made their living through plunder and occasionally mushroom farming. When a warband had an exceptional orc leader skilled in raiding, they elevated to the status of Green Skin Warband. If such a leader gained notoriety and was feared by many Green Skin tribes in the vicinity, they had the qualifications to organize a major raid. This elevated them to the rank of Warlord. To become a Warlord, one needed to be both brave and intelligent, with a knack for organizing and leading.

Clearly, Horten had stumbled upon a rare, small-scale raid operation, orchestrated by a potential Green Skin Warlord. Horten was fortunate to have learned about these details from the monastery's museum.

"Boss, are we going to rescue that woman?" The team leaders were filled with apprehension. A peasant militia force didn't have the capability to take on multiple opponents, even if the other side consisted mostly of timid and inept Goblins.

"Observe carefully, find their warlord; that's our only chance," Horten said, his voice calm as he carefully observed the distribution of the three Green Skin tribes.

Soon, Horten pinpointed the tribe with the best position and the largest force, which he believed housed the Green Skin Warlord. Horten called his subordinates and instructed, "You, hide in the bushes, like this..."

On the high hill, members of the Gottingen County Inner Palace Knights were in a state of disarray during a brief shift change, using the time to rest and recuperate.

Every count and above in the aristocracy organized their own Inner Palace Knights as a core fighting force, and Countess Conossa von Nornburg of Gottingen was no exception.

A gentle breeze rustled the curtains of the carriage, lifting a corner of the fabric.

"So, my esteemed Master of the Stables, Sir Howard Knight, has abandoned me like this? How amusing. He's just a lowly footman; how could he possibly understand the shifts in the principality's politics?"

In the quiet carriage, a seductive voice softly spoke.

But no servant would truly believe that the woman in bed was pitiable.

She was one of the most prestigious nobles in the principality, inheriting the bloodline of past kings, and her position as Conossa von Nornburg was evident from the long string of intermediate surnames alone.

As the curtains lifted, her beauty was breathtaking.

She was a voluptuous mature beauty. Her smooth and radiant skin, like pearl and jade, was concealed beneath a silken gauze dress, exuding a bewitching charm. Her figure was astonishingly beautiful, with a slender waist, curvy hips, and a voluptuous bust that contrasted sharply with her slim waist. Her face was delicate as frosty snow, with a hint of anger around her eyes. Her breasts, like two white and delicate mounds, created a stunning cleavage under the dim light, appearing exceptionally seductive. Jet-black hair cascaded over her ample curves, and her emerald-like eyes seemed to enchant anyone who gazed into them.

There was no doubt that Conossa von Nornburg was the epitome of beauty.

She was exceptionally cunning, constantly devising schemes, and in the competition with her brothers, she had unexpectedly secured Gottingen County.

However, now the Poisoned Rose found herself in a precarious situation of betrayal. Her beauty was understood by both humans and the Green Skins. Falling into the hands of the Green Skins would lead to a miserable fate, as countless erotic artists and troubadours had clearly depicted.

"If it weren't for Howard taking away the Spear and Bow Brigades, how could we be engaging in an attrition war with precious knights and Green Skins? Howard deserves to die!"

Casting blame upon Howard was the Inner Palace Knights' leader, Joan, a close friend of Conossa and a female knight known as "Flash." She too was renowned for her beauty but was now severely injured.

The Inner Palace Knights consisted of 65 members, including their squires, and dozens had already fallen in battle. If they continued, all the elite knights of Gottingen County would perish, and their independent status would be in jeopardy.

"Milady, there are numerous militiamen in the forest!"

Suddenly, all the knights perked up their ears, hearing the excited cries of a messenger.

Countess Conossa von Nornburg, with no time for her usual grace, hurriedly stepped out of her carriage, standing on her tiptoes to get a better view with Joan. However, as they looked left and right, all they could see was a monk riding a donkey, meandering at the edge of the forest.

Hugo, sweating profusely, kept the restless donkey in check.

Beside him were two large carts that seemed to have broken axles, stranded and unable to move. These contained the month's supply of provisions for the entire convoy.

They couldn't afford to lose what they had.

To the perpetually impoverished greenskins, these two carts and the donkey were a treasure trove of wealth! The news spread quickly through the greenskin ranks, and the largest tribe promptly expelled the remaining two tribes, preparing to enjoy the spoils alone.

Hugo observed the situation while gradually moving closer to the forest, pretending to be in a hurry to escape, not even interested in the provisions.

As he predicted, this bait lured the green-skinned quasi-warlords, who couldn't resist chasing after him on their large boars. Just as he expected, the green-skinned tribes were lacking mounts, so the warlords would undoubtedly separate from the main group to chase him.

But compared to the massive beastmen, over two meters tall and as sturdy as buffalo, Hugo seemed weak and fragile. Even the knights on the hillside couldn't help but shake their heads in pity.

The greenskins kept making noise, and the proud green-skinned warlord continued to approach Hugo, who appeared to be "panicked and confused." At this very moment, the vast majority of people believed that Hugo was doomed.

However, it was precisely at this moment that Hugo abandoned the donkey and made his escape! He urged the donkey to run towards the forest, leaving the pursuing warlord behind. It was a calculated risk.

Jumping off the donkey, Hugo's forty peasant archers immediately rose from their hiding places, aiming their arrows at the greedy green-skinned warlord. He was now isolated!