[Time before the goblins attack: 3... 2... 1]
Torot!
A reverberating horn echoed across the land, shaking every soul that heard it. The deep, primal sound rumbled like thunder, and the vibrations seemed to reach into the bones of every man inside the settlement.
Rolan and his men stood within the walls, weapons at the ready. Though armored and armed, many of them were just civilians mere days ago—farmers, blacksmiths, and merchants now forced into war. They were terrified. Hands trembled. Some clenched their weapons too tightly, while others couldn't stop their knees from shaking.
[Morale is affected by fear of your soldiers]
–1 morale
–1 morale
–1 morale
[You lacked the Leadership skill to bolster your men]
Remaining morale: +6
[Morale can give either good status or bad status]
[If positive, it will give a bonus to your men]
[Negative status if morale is negative]
[Battle Advantage: –10]
[Tactician skill activated] +3 Battle Advantage
[Current Battle Advantage: –3]
"Shit… the war hasn't even started, and it's already going south." Rolan gritted his teeth. "If only I had the Leadership skill." The regret was there, bitter and gnawing, but he didn't let it consume him. He had chosen Management for a reason, and now wasn't the time to wallow. The enemy was right in front of them.
"Archers! Fire on my command!" he ordered, raising his sword high into the air.
Ahead of them, the goblin army marched. The rumble of their feet mixed with shrill shrieks and the rhythmic pounding of drums. The sound sent a chill down everyone's spine. Then, they saw them.
Siege engines.
A massive battering ram, crude ladders, a siege tower, and a movable bridge—all lumbering forward. They weren't just charging recklessly. The goblins were organized.
"They're using wooden walls to shield against arrows," Rolan observed. The goblins were cunning, covering their approach with makeshift barricades as they advanced.
"Now!" he shouted.
Arrows soared through the air, raining down upon the enemy, but the goblins quickly took shelter behind their wooden barriers. Rolan narrowed his eyes. These weren't simple beasts. There had to be a goblin general among them.
As expected, they formed a shield wall around the battering ram. The movable bridge, too, crept forward, pushed steadily by groups of goblins. Rolan quickly ordered the archers to focus fire on those pushing the bridge, trying to slow their momentum.
He knew it was only a delay tactic, but they had to thin the goblin numbers somehow.
Then, he saw something worse—hobgoblins marching behind the regular troops, carrying what looked like a small trebuchet. The goblin army fired flaming oil pots, hurling them over the walls.
"Shit… hard difficulty, huh?" Rolan clicked his tongue. "I might've bitten off more than I can chew."
Their archers couldn't reach the trebuchets. They lacked countermeasures. No ballistae. No trebuchets of their own. Rolan had prioritized walls instead of siege engines due to resource constraints. The gamble might cost them.
The goblins installed their bridge. The battering ram rolled closer, protected by wooden roofs from above.
"Quicklime!" Rolan shouted.
Soldiers rushed forward, pouring quicklime onto the roof of the ram. Flames erupted. Screeching, the goblins abandoned the burning siege engine.
But their general wasn't done.
Another horn blew, and the goblin army changed formation. The drumbeats shifted tempo. Instantly, the goblins began executing their next strategy.
"They've practiced this…" Rolan admitted, both impressed and unnerved. "This far?"
The goblins placed ladders against the walls. The siege tower creaked as it neared the battlements. More morale dropped from Rolan's troops. He bit his lower lip in frustration. No leadership skill meant he couldn't boost their spirits.
But he could still think.
"Infantry! Block the ladders! Push them away!" Rolan ordered.
Goblins were already climbing. The soldiers shoved the ladders back. Dozens of goblins crashed to the ground with sharp screeches.
[Enemies are disoriented] +1 morale
The soldiers roared. It was a small victory—but a victory nonetheless.
The celebration didn't last.
The siege tower slammed into place. Its bridge dropped. Hobgoblins charged out, armored and shielded. Arrows were loosed, but they bounced off thick wooden shields.
Leading them was a towering figure, armored from head to toe.
"The General…" Rolan whispered.
The hobgoblin general charged the infantry lines. Their shield wall shattered on impact. Wooden splinters exploded as shields broke, and soldiers were thrown back.
Rolan didn't hesitate. He sprinted along the wall, blade in hand. The general had to fall. Morale depended on it.
He leaped forward and struck, stabbing through a gap in the enemy's back armor. The creature roared before collapsing.
"The general has fallen!" Rolan shouted for all to hear.
The hobgoblins retaliated. They hurled stones at the archers, knocking several off the walls. The skirmish between ranged units intensified.
Then came another battering ram, aimed directly at the gates.
"Drop the rocks!" Rolan ordered.
Massive boulders plummeted, crushing the advancing ram and shattering the bridge. Cheers erupted from the defenders.
But the goblins were relentless. A second bridge was deployed—this time by hobgoblins.
They were faster. Stronger.
The battering ram reached the gates, pounding with immense force.
"Men! Form at the gate!" Rolan barked.
They responded swiftly, forming a phalanx. But the siege tower continued to pour goblins onto the walls, making it a two-front war—one at the gate, one at the ramparts.
The gate cracked. Then splintered. And finally—
It fell.
The melee began.
Goblins surged through. Soldiers held their ground, spears ready. Arrows flew overhead. Then a roar silenced the field.
A monstrous hobgoblin with bulging muscles stepped forward.
"A Hobgoblin Champion!" Rolan exclaimed.
He met the beast head-on, sword drawn. The two clashed amidst the chaos. Behind him, formations broke under the weight of the hobgoblin charge. It was a brutal, exhausting fight.
The battle dragged on for hours. Blood stained the earth. Bodies—friend and foe—fell. Hope began to wither.
And then, the horn blew again.
Trotttttttttttttt!!!
The elder's horn. Its sound rang across the battlefield.
From the woods came more shouting—this time, from humans.
Militias had arrived.
Weaker and less trained, but full of fire, they crashed into the goblin flanks. The fight was grueling. Even the militias took heavy losses. But together, they overwhelmed the remaining goblins.
The battle was won.
But at a cost.
More than half of their forces had fallen or lay wounded.
[Building: Healing Tent available]
"Build it."
[Healing Tent constructed]
+1 faster healing of wounded soldiers. Lesser chance of death occurrence for wounded.
Healers rushed in. Tents went up as the sun began to fall.
Rolan sat on the bloodied ground, sword planted beside him, breathing heavy. They had survived. But this was only the beginning.