Paul’s POV

  On his way to the mine, Paul decided to drop in on the new bog mining village. Drekkar had gathered 50 goblins to work in the new village. The construction of a couple of basic longhouses and huts had already taken place.

  Marcus Vines the blacksmith’s apprentice was setting up a smelting operation. Two rather large goblins followed him around and were supposed to learn how to smelt the iron into bars for easier transport. The blacksmith’s apprentice knew enough to get them started.

  “You are doing good, Drekkar.” Paul told the hobgoblin.

  “Thank you, my lord.” Drekkar responded. “I’ve never started a village from scratch. It is quite the experience.”

  “How long will it be before you are smelting ore to send to Gravewell?” Paul asked.

  “Marcus says it will be another two to three weeks to set up the furnace. We are already gathering ore and have a pretty good stockpile.” Drekkar said.

  “Good job, soldier.” Rikkard said. “I knew you could handle this task.”

  Drekkar nodded, “Thank you commander.”

  “We have a three-week march north of here, and a three-week march back, plus however long our stay at the mine will be. I expect iron bars to be ready to take back to Gravewell with us.” Paul explained.

  “Of course, my lord.” Drekkar said.

  With that Paul and his army left to continue their way north. There weren’t any villages directly north of the bog.

  Early into the second night marching north a scout returned at a dead run. “Chief, there is an ettin ahead.”

  “How far ahead?” Paul asked.

  “About an hour northwest.” The scout reported.

  “We could easily go around it.” Rikkard said.

  “No,” Paul said, “we need to either gain its loyalty or kill it. I won’t have my territory cut in half by a lone ettin.”

  Paul knew what ettins were in principle. Two headed giants. An ettin was strong enough, that in his youth, he had heard that a single ettin had killed 20 royal knights. Not intimidated by that story now, he had an army of over 650 at his back, including 6 ogres.

  Ogres were also a good point. They were strong giants as well and Paul had killed two to gain the loyalty of the others. There was only one ettin, however, so he hoped he didn’t have to kill it. If he marched up to it with his undead troops, goblin archers, and 6 ogres, maybe it would just surrender and leave his realm in peace.

  “Lead us to this ettin.” Paul finally said.

  “Yes, my lord.” The scout replied.

  The scout led the way to the ettin. With the slower pace of the undead warriors the march took a little over an hour, but Paul wasn’t too worried about it.

  The ettin was probably 18 feet tall with goblin yellow skin and greenish fur. It had long braided black hair on both of its piglike heads. Both heads were looking in the direction of the army. So far not much of the army was visible, but they weren’t quiet either.

  The two heads were talking to one another, but Paul was too far away to hear what they were talking about. As more of the army came forward, the ettin looked a little less curious and a little more intimidated.

  “Who are you?” Paul yelled out once he got close enough.

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  “I am Tuba, and this is Gruba.” The right head said.

  “Surround it.” Paul ordered. “I am Paul Alaricsson, soon to be lord of these lands. You can surrender to me and join my host or you can die.”

  Tuba looked around at the army as it started surrounding the ettin. “You have big army… You strong. Many ogres, many bows. We not fight”

  “We strong! But… not that strong.” Gruba said.

  Tuba looked at Paul. “We follow, not fight. You no need kill Tuba and Gruba.”

  “Good.” Paul responded. “Ogi, keep an eye on Tuba and Gruba. They are your responsibility.”

  Ogi nodded. “What if ettin eats ogres?”

  “There are six of you.” Paul said. “Are you telling me six ogres can’t beat one ettin.”

  “Ettin big.” Ogi said.

  Looking back at the ettin, Paul took measure of it again. Tuba stood up from the log he had been sitting on and was making his way over to Paul. He held a tree in both hands to use as clubs. For a moment Paul wondered if he could beat the ettin in a fight. He doubted it could be don’t alone, but he had a massive army of fearless undead on his side.

  Not wanting took like a coward to his living troops, or to the ettin, Paul walked forwards to meet the ettin. “Kneel.” Paul commanded once the ettin got close enough.

  Tuba and Gruba knelt before Paul. “Yes master.” They said in unison.

  “Rikkard.” Paul looked over at the hobgoblin. “It is almost dawn. We’ll camp here.”

  Rikkard gave confirmation, but kept a weary eye on the ettin.

  The next night Paul woke to find the ettin still asleep. “Tuba, Gruba, wake up.”

  The ettin looked at Paul with both heads. “Yes master.” Tuba said at they got up.

  “You will travel with Ogi.” Paul said. “We are headed north to the iron mines there. There are a lot of goblins between here and there. We will need your strength to help us fight. Understand?”

  “Yes.” Tuba said. “Master has lots of enemies who need killing. Tuba and Gruba kill enemies.”

  “Very good.” Paul walked away and found Rikkard. “What have the scouts found out about the next village?”

  “Apparently the next few villages might be tough to fight.” Rikkard said. “The scouts report that there is another conqueror, other than you. He has gathered the strength of the next few villages. The scouts say he has gathered an army of around 200 goblins and some bugbears.”

  “Let’s get Eryndral and Liora and discuss this further in my tent.” Paul said.

  A large tent had been erected at the center of the encampment, its interior dimly lit by a cluster of enchanted blue flames hovering near the ceiling. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and iron as Paul leaned over a crude wooden table, his piercing gaze sweeping over a rough map of the surrounding territory.

  Rikkard stood across from him, arms crossed, his sharp hobgoblin features twisted in thought. Liora lingered near the tent’s entrance, her wraith-like form barely disturbing the shadows, while Eryndral sat casually on a barrel, one leg crossed over the other, studying the situation with amused curiosity.

  Paul spoke first. “We’re facing an organized force of at least 200 goblins, reinforced by bugbears. They’ve consolidated multiple villages under a single leader, which makes them more dangerous than a scattered rabble. I need options.”

  The hobgoblin exhaled sharply. “We have numbers and strength, but they have home-field advantage. They know the terrain, they’ll have defensive positions, and if they’re smart, they’ll try to lure us into an ambush.” He tapped the map. “A frontal assault is risky, even with our undead soaking up arrows. If we can lure them out, force them to break formation, we can crush them in the open.”

  Paul nodded slightly. “How do we bait them?”

  Liora’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried across the tent. “Fear.” All eyes turned to her. “We have an ettin. We have undead. We should let them see the horror they face. Break their morale before they ever lift a blade. Have the undead march openly, make them think they face an unstoppable force. Their leader may panic, make mistakes.”

  Eryndral smirked. “Yes, nothing like the mindless terror of seeing your fallen comrades stand back up to fight against you. I like it.”

  Eryndral leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table. “We don’t just frighten them; we turn them against each other.” She traced her finger along the map. “A warlord only holds power as long as his followers believe in him. If we make him look weak or disloyal, his own forces might betray him.”

  Paul arched an eyebrow. “How do you suggest we do that?”

  Eryndral grinned. “A well-placed assassination. If we can get to his lieutenants, make it look like an internal power struggle, we might not even have to fight the whole army.”

  Paul considered the options. “We combine these strategies. Rikkard, we’ll march as if for a direct assault, force them to react. Liora, take the wraiths and find his commanders and kill them.” He turned to Eryndral. “Find out who this warlord’s strongest supporters are. If there’s a way to make them doubt him, do it.”

  He looked at Rikkard again. “If they come out to meet us, we’ll use our undead as the front line, backed by archers and ogres. The ettin will flank them. If they don’t take the bait, you’ll hit them at dawn, when their morale is weakest.”

  Rikkard grinned, baring his teeth. “A solid plan, my lord.”

  Liora melted into the shadows. “They will die.”

  Eryndral stretched lazily, her smirk never fading. “Oh, this will be fun.”

  Paul rested his hands on the table, his voice like steel. “Then we make ready. By tomorrow, they will know the name Paul Alaricsson.”