Another day of brilliant sunshine.

Spring rain was scarce, but this time, it had come in pitifully small quantities. There had been no rain for nearly half a month, and while clear skies were not necessarily a bad thing, a lack of precipitation would make for a difficult spring.

The northern lands’ harvest this year had already suffered extensive damage; should a drought occur, the people would face even greater hardships in the coming year.

Only Hunter’s Dominion, under Richard’s governance, had benefited from significant improvements to its irrigation systems, and so would fare better than the rest.

For the time being, however, these were not Richard’s immediate concerns. Based on reports from scout riders and griffins, he had confirmed the number and direction of the orcs.

Three thousand of the beasts had joined forces with over ten thousand gnomes and were marching straight toward the border. The minor nobles along their path had retreated into their castles to tremble in fear.

In contrast, a motley force of humans and horses was currently marching southwest. There was little that could be done about it: aside from the Flying Bear Army’s two thousand soldiers, whose armor was relatively uniform, each lord’s troops were dressed in their own attire.

Thankfully, they all had iron armor, and so despite their disheveled appearance, they still presented a formidable image.

After organizing the scattered forces, Richard decided to take the initiative and strike first. Although the motley army was a bit disordered, they had sufficient fighting power. There were no noteworthy chokepoints along their route, and with no guarantee of reinforcements, hunkering down in a castle and waiting to be besieged would leave them at the mercy of the enemy.

Their journey was marked by ruined villages. It was better in Barend Duchy; the marauding orcs had not long since descended upon it, and only a handful of settlements had been devastated. The farther they traveled southwest, the greater the number of refugees they encountered.

Many lords along this direction had wholly abandoned their subjects and barricaded themselves within their castles, concerned only for their own safety.

Though many refugees fled before them, there were no signs of mass evacuations—no fields of bones stretching for miles, nor utter desolation. The scourge of the orcs had only just begun, and after years of peace in the northern frontier, the common people still retained some stores of food.

Yet with the destruction wrought upon their villages this spring, it was unlikely these stores would last through the next winter.

Surrounded by other nobles, Richard rode atop his Western steed at the vanguard of the allied army. The refugees who saw this coalition from afar dared not approach, and most avoided the army altogether before they could draw near. A few brave souls lingered to observe from a distance, perhaps even entertaining hopes that these soldiers would drive away the orcs.

Noticing the refugees, Richard suddenly thought of something. “Quill.”

“Your Highness Richard.”

Quill was slightly behind him, but he could still hear Richard’s summons and rushed to respond.

“Send some people to gather up the refugees and guide them to Hunter’s Dominion. Have Eko take care of them.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The northern lands lacked for little in terms of arable land, so there was plenty of space within Hunter’s Dominion to accommodate more people. Population and land were the foundation upon which any feudal regime stood, so Richard never let opportunities to increase the population of his dominion pass him by. Recruiting these refugees was also a chance for them to survive.

Those who went to Hunter’s Dominion might receive some aid next year, and would have a chance to live on. Aside from Hunter’s Dominion, the northern lands likely had no other region with enough stores to spare for relief efforts.

Richard sighed softly after giving his instructions to Quill.

“Why does Your Highness sigh?”

Baron Bandel had positioned himself close to Richard, so he heard even this slight sigh.

“The marauding orcs make life difficult for our people.”

Richard’s words contained a kernel of sincerity. To him, the invasion of the orcs had been an advantageous development. Without the orcs’ breach of the northern lands’ order, the Hunter family would never have been given the opportunity to expand their power so greatly, and Richard himself would never have been given the chance to lead a coalition as a mere knight, surrounded by lords and nobles.

In the end, chaos was but a ladder, and heroes were born of necessity.

Richard, however, is not a ruthless kingpin, hardened as steel. Even though two lifetimes had honed him into a rational man, he still felt a twinge of pity when he looked at this emaciated, frightened crowd of refugees.

“Lord Richard is benevolent! With Lord Richard leading the charge, our victory will be swift and glorious,” Baron Bandel praised him out of habit, though perhaps there was a hint of sincerity in his words.

“Ah,” Richard nodded toward Baron Bandel, then laughed in self-ridicule, silently cursing himself “phony.”

Whether it was the will of the gods or the will of the people, it was up to those who climbed to the top of the hierarchy to choose.

“Pass my orders. We march faster; we must reach our destination before nightfall!”

“Faster!”

“Faster!”

Once Richard’s thoughts cleared, it was as if the entire army had been revitalized.

A castle loomed in the southwest. The interior no longer possessed the refined atmosphere of nobility, but rather that of hell on earth.

There were no living humans left within the castle, only terrifying cannibal demons standing guard. If one wished to find the original lord of the castle, perhaps they could find traces of him in the boiling cauldron.

“Master Hact, the gates have been thoroughly destroyed, and we’ve torn down several sections of the city walls, as you instructed,” a cannibal demon wearing relatively fine heavy armor reported as he sat upon the steps of the castle’s great hall listening to his subordinate’s report.

Hact led a thousand-man army and, at Grugesh’s command, had marched with four small tribes drafted into service straight toward the second region of the Barend Duchy.

Strictly adhering to Grugesh’s orders, Hact had ignored most human lords’ castles during their march, but they had forcefully seized a small baronial fortress near the end of their journey.

Perhaps it was the misfortune of the lord whose castle it was: its location just so happened to be a short distance from where Hact planned to wage his battle, and it blocked Hact’s route from the rear.

In order to prevent the humans from attacking his forces from the rear during battle, Master Hact had decided to capture this troublesome castle before Richard’s allied army arrived.

Now, they were going to destroy it, for orcs were not suited to holding fortifications, and the size of the castle was ill-suited for them as well. Better to destroy it than allow humans to use it against them.

“How far away is that human army?”

“According to the reports of the gnomes, we should run into them tomorrow night.”

Grugesh’s direct subordinates took longer to learn the intricacies of warfare, but they had been trained well enough to be considered an army. Although their intelligence-gathering methods couldn’t compare to Richard’s, they were still capable of detecting large forces of humans gathering on the plains.

“Pass my orders. Tell our warriors to rest well tonight, for tomorrow we will fight a battle to the death against the humans.”

Regardless of how you managed to eliminate those tribes, we will crush your forces tomorrow with utter confidence.

Hatch was extremely confident in his forces. The humans only had seven thousand soldiers, while he commanded nearly three thousand orcs, a thousand of whom were direct subordinates in heavy armor. Even if they closed their eyes, they should be able to defeat this human army.