Waves of Steel
Intercepting the orcs didn't require any complex tactical judgment. The plan was simple: wait in thoroughly scouted terrain, on open plains perfect for the knights' mobility, and crush the orcs the moment they emerged from the forest.
The battlefield is ours to choose. Fighting on the snowfields is optimal.
Fighting where and how you want is the fundamental prerequisite for victory in battle. Plus, battling on the snowfields would let the soldiers atop the Great Wall see everything clearly. It was a chance to showcase the knights' absurd destructive power on the open plains, boosting morale like a performance.
In essence, this fight was no different from a defender in a siege sallying forth to intercept the enemy.
In the meeting with the generals, staff officers, and knights, one grizzled general raised his hand and spoke in a raspy voice.
"If Your Grace intends to intercept them, why not leave only the minimum garrison for defense and take everyone out?"
"I believe the Iron Fang Knights alone are sufficient to annihilate the enemy."
"The knights' strength could certainly handle three thousand orcs under normal circumstances. But isn't what Your Grace has in mind real combat experience in field battles?"
The general glanced around the room. Most of those he eyed were on the younger side, sharing one common trait: they were still obsessed with Elang.
"Many here have honed their command skills through the mock battles Your Grace invented. Wouldn't it be valuable for them to experience firsthand how mock battles differ from the real thing in the field?"
"Hm."
It was a reasonable point. But this time, Estiang's thinking differed slightly.
"Berg's soldiers are elites who can fight ten men each. But when we first formed the rangers, even they felt a vague reluctance at the idea of venturing beyond the wall."
"That's true, but..."
"Sure, they quickly burned with a sense of duty and volunteers overflowed. Still, we can't ignore the troops' morale. For now, we'll deploy only the knights, crush the enemy with overwhelming force, boost morale, and gradually increase field engagements."
Karl, who had maintained a serious expression throughout the meeting, spoke up.
"If the knights leverage their overwhelming superiority and utterly smash the orcs, the soldiers watching from the wall will have their morale skyrocket."
"That's exactly the point."
This battle was essentially a showcase. Victory was a given; the key was how destructively they demolished the orcs.
In real history, Western European knights were infamous for their monstrous combat prowess—especially the knight orders of religious groups.
And this was a fantasy world where only superhumans wielding aura were considered true knights. The knights' destructive power was beyond imagination, and witnessing it would instill confidence in the soldiers about their army's overwhelming strength.
That was the plan up to this point.
Wolfgang immediately responded with a confident voice.
"Your Grace. The Iron Fang Knights are ready to deploy at any moment."
The enemy was merely three thousand orcs—mindless brutes of the usual caliber invading from the forest, as confirmed by ranger scouts.
Fighting in familiar terrain, with enemy strength verified.
No variables.
That was Estiang's conclusion: this fight had no uncertainties.
"Sir Wolfgang."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Prepare the knights for deployment."
"As you command."
Wolfgang rose immediately, answering thunderously with a grin.
"It's been too long since I've ridden at Your Grace's side. I'm already looking forward to it."
"Haha, me too."
Assenting voices rose here and there, smiles spreading across the faces of the other generals and knights. Estiang chuckled in response, then turned to Leonald.
"Tower Lord."
"Mm-hmm. No need for concern, Your Grace. If the orcs somehow slipped the rangers' scouts and pulled any tricks, I'll step in immediately."
"The odds are slim, but it's not a bad idea to prepare for the worst."
"I've been holed up researching orcs anyway. Might as well get a proper look at the beasts now."
Estiang had even dragged Leonald out of his study, where he'd been buried in monster research before the wall reconstruction began. With the archmage covering potential variables from the rear, and Estiang leading the charge at the forefront, the power gap was insurmountable.
No variables. It was hardly a battle—more like a subjugation.
After reincarnating as Estiang Berg but before ascending to Grand Duke, when he began dipping into military affairs, he'd often felt disoriented by the gap between book knowledge and reality.
But look: in grand strategy games, you just managed upkeep and manpower. Check the supply limits of the region, deploy forces accordingly to minimize non-combat losses.
Such games allowed absurdities like troops marching from Korea to Spain if you secured military access.
That's why they're games—pure allowances.
Even the so-called realistic paradox strategy games that prided themselves on simulation got flak for it.
Transitioning from those to raw, real military administration was bound to feel alienating.
One lesson stuck from then:
I'll set the direction; leave the details to the experts.
Medieval lords didn't manage domains alone for nothing—they relied on vassals' support. If the top decision-maker micromanaged everything, they'd burn out.
Like Joseon kings or Chinese emperors drowning in paperwork.
Even now, Estiang only decided to sally forth; actual knight operations were delegated to Wolfgang. It was freer for him to rampage that way.
Before him, knights donned armor with squires' aid, mounted up, and ran final checks.
Squires not yet knight-worthy traveled light as skirmish cavalry. Knights, true to heavy cavalry tradition, mounted and received lances.
"It's basically the same as our usual intercepts, right?"
"We've gone out the gate before when ogres showed up."
"Yeah. Not going far—just fighting on the snowfields."
"Perfect timing too. Haven't deployed lately; been itching for action."
Snatches of knights' chatter drifted over. Estiang, too.
"Your Grace, if you would raise your arm?"
Was receiving Roena's help donning his armor. Normally squires' work, but at some point, it had naturally become her role.
She was pressed close now, focused on fitting the plates.
"Isn't this a hassle, Lady Roena? You don't have to do it yourself."
"No, it's my duty."
"If it's a bother, just leave it to the squires. You're my adjutant, not a squire."
"No. I like it this way."
Even now, from behind, she connected the joints almost like an embrace, declaring firmly.
If she insisted... Estiang awkwardly let her continue. Once done, Roena stepped back, a faint blush on her cheeks.
"All set."
"Thanks as always, Lady Roena. Must be annoying for you."
"Not at all. If anything, I wish it could last longer... No, I just did my job."
Roena cleared her throat, handing over his cloth cap. He donned it, then the helmet atop, stepped into the stirrups, mounted, and took his lance.
Sword was his main, but he'd charge with lance initially, then switch to slicing.
As preparations wrapped, Maximilian approached—tasked with leading rangers to scout during the battle.
"Your Grace."
"Sir Maximilian. Any reports?"
"Yes. From the forward outposts: the orcs massing near the snow mountain foothills are showing signs of movement."
"Perfect timing. We'll go ahead, wait, and smash them the moment they appear."
Nodding, he drew a flood of gazes. Knights, fully ready, burned with anticipation beyond the visors.
His limbs, the knights—no need for a long speech.
Ku-gu-gu-gung.
As the gates groaned open, Estiang addressed the Iron Fang Knights.
"Listen up."
"Yes, Your Grace!"
Thunderous replies echoed.
"I trust no fools who get hurt or die against mere orcs exist in my knight order."
"No such fools in the Iron Fangs!"
"We'll live up to Your Grace's expectations!"
They fixed lances under arms, eyeing the open gates. Orcs unseen yet, vast snowfields beyond.
Ahead of his first true field battle, he added:
"I'll carve the path at the forefront. Fulfill your duty, knights."
Brief words hung in silence. Then, earth-shaking roars erupted.
"For the Empire! For Berg!"
Sharp steel rang out; swords rose where lances had been.
Blue-edged blades glinted in the noon sun.
Estiang drew his own sword with his free hand, pointing toward the snowfields.
"March out."
With ground-shaking hooves, two hundred knights—and more cavalry—surged through the gates like a tide.