Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3) (40 page)

Knocking out my pipe into my plate, which currently served as an ashtray, I refilled it immediately and lit up again, then got up and starting pacing around the room. Let's imagine a half-legion going on the offensive. Tanks and melee dps smash into enemy lines, mages and archers fall back and around to flank and blast away at the enemy from a distance to minimize friendly fire. 

So far that meant a minimum of three groups, each of which would require healing. 

I sat back down, pulled up the image of a dark elf female on the monitor, colored her hair red and saved the image as my desktop background.
Now what?
I asked the drawn dark elf maiden. Alas, the girl was looking somewhere behind me, apparently indifferent to my anguish. Should I split up healers and assign them each class separately: archers, melee dps and mages? No, there was no way one healer would be able to keep up four melee fighters in the pandemonium that immediately followed the cavalry's ram attack. But then... Ugh, what a moron I was! All that time spent working for the company, listening to my coworkers' exploits I'd taken it as gospel that a group should comprise five people and five people only. 

It wasn't until now that it had dawned on me... Forget fives! The solution was right there before me...
We would fight in threes: tank, melee dps and a priest, two mages and a priest, two archers and a priest. That would give me one hundred sixty six groups of three.

True, my half-legion would lose sixty six damage dealers as compared to the classic raid makeup, but in return we'd gain unprecedented survivability and maneuverability. I refilled my tankard with cider, raised a toast to my monitor maiden, and downed it in one go. The hell with manners—nobody could see me here, save perhaps for my new redheaded girlfriend. For a moment I thought I saw the girl on the screen pucker her brows and give me a reproachful look. "I think you've had enough, Roman!" was the phrase that was supposed to follow that look... but it never did. Alyona was somewhere far away, and I sincerely hoped that she was all right. "I'm coming, sis. As fast as I possibly can..." I said to the picture of the elf, switched off the computer and literally collapsed on the bed. Welcome sleep came fast and furious.

Chapter 16

"A warrior dies facing the enemy, a coward dies facing away from the enemy!" Elnar was laying down the law as he rode past half a legion of fighters lined up in the square. "I sincerely hope that none of you will ever shame yourselves before Dar Krian! So if anyone doubts their courage or resolve, speak up right here and now!"

Seeing me approach, James barked "Ten-hut!" to the half-legion, turned his horse around and steered it my way at a trot.

On his next command, Iam, Salta and Reena moved four lengths forward and stood at attention. The standard-bearer then threw up his balled right fist, and the half-legion stirred into motion, marching fluidly after their officers, then straightening their ranks behind them.

Just like a parade,
I thought, replaying the events of the past three days in my mind as I watched James approach.

The morning after the celebration I held a meeting in my room, summoning Elnar, Iam, Salta, Reece, Aritor, Reece and Schen. I served everyone a half-liter cup of coffee, which they certainly appreciated, still nursing a major hangover from the night before, and proceeded to explain to them my plan of action. Then I gave them half an hour to process everything and offer their thoughts.

Prior to the meeting I'd ordered an oval conference table and comfortable high-back chairs from my room's private menu. As for the coffee, somehow there was a battery-operated espresso machine on the list of objects available for in-game gold. Perhaps it had slipped by RP-17's detection, or maybe he was well aware of the item and had deemed it innocuous; whatever the case was, the machine made a great cup of java out of whole coffee beans, with batteries that could be recharged with magical energy. The only downside was that you couldn't take it outside your private room, but that hadn't stopped me from buying two hundred pounds of roast coffee beans after taking a single sip. And I planned on stocking up even more—just in case RP-17 changed his mind and removed the option of purchasing the divine beverage. Thankfully, produce in the game didn't spoil, whether stored in a bag or a vault, and I was going to take full advantage of it.

To my surprise and slight disappointment, the futuristic-looking machine with digits glowing brightly on the display panel had failed to wow the tiflings in any way. Would they even acknowledge a supersonic aircraft? Then again, why would supersonic aircraft be a source of wonder in a world with real bloody dragons?!

"Leading a half-legion isn't the same as leading a century, not by a long shot," said James at last. Having been unanimously accepted as my top officer and military adviser, he was speaking for everyone. "Staying in formation would certainly be more complicated. Also, dar, if we're going to fight in threes, everyone's going to need pikes."

"How long is the standard infantry pike?" I turned to Aritor.

"Ten to twelve feet," he replied.

"What about that uncommon recipe the paladin had dropped... Wasn't it a cavalry lance around fifteen feet long?"

"Slightly over fifteen feet," said the tank. "But each one takes twenty standard iron bars and four bronze bars. That ain't cheap."

"Cavalry attacks infantry using the advantage of their superior weapon length," Elnar saw where I was going right away. "Listen, dar, that should actually work! In theory, even a combo of mages and priests could take on an infantry formation."

"In theory we have eighteen thousand gold, but in practice..."

"Hold it, Reece," I cut the mage short before he could deliver the less-than-appropriate punchline to a joke he had recently heard. "No, James," I said to Elnar. "Mages and archers are mages and archers. The priests that will accompany melee fighters get Hand of Justice at level 200, so use them during a ram attack. But mages and archers should remain as they are. Let pikes serve as a very last resort."

"Wait!" Aritor threw up both of his hands, calling for attention. "Do you mean to tell me that we have five days to forge four hundred horse armors and fifteen hundred cavalry lances? Where am I going to get so much iron and bronze? And even if I do get the materials, we don't have nearly enough blacksmiths to get it done. Even ten days wouldn't be enough."

"The industrial quarter outside the city has eighteen master blacksmiths with apprentices ready to help," I assured the tifling. "And there's enough iron and bronze in stock to outfit several legions of getare. Once we're done here, take all our smiths there and get to work. Kargal will show you the way."

"Good enough," Aritor nodded, took a sip of coffee from his cup, and fell back in his chair, silent. His entire demeanor suggested he had no interest in whatever else was on the agenda.

We talked a little while longer, and then I saw by my subordinates' contemplative faces that it was time to conclude the meeting.

"We'll open the recruitment stand at the square right outside the castle. Today we recruit folks into the clan, and tomorrow whoever wishes to serve Celphata. Reece," I turned to the mage. "Take all the volunteers that show up tomorrow, organize them and escort them to Vaessa at the temple. James, make room for new recruits in the barracks, and start training them first thing tomorrow. You already have your task," I looked at Aritor. "Salta, you're with Schen. Figure out how many reagents we have for enchanting. Schen, get the keys to the city treasury from Kargal. Have Hagedia and Zara disenchant however much gear they need, but make sure all our archers' bows are enchanted with Ice Serpent's Breath. I trust I don't need to instruct you about arrows? If there are no questions, you're all dismissed."

The next three days were absolutely nuts. Whether it was Kargal's doing or the stories of our escapades relayed during the celebration, but as soon as our recruitment stand was up over fifteen hundred demons in the 180-200 level range turned up at the square to enlist.

I spent all of that day and most of that evening deciding which volunteers were most suitable for the clan. Those who had their own horses had a definite advantage over the rest. After selecting four hundred demons, I broke the news to those who didn't make the cut, assuring them that I would be back three weeks later to recruit the rest. And that wasn't a lie—a satrap was bound to have more resources to work with than a knight-captain, and besides, I would undoubtedly need an active army to defend the province.

By the time I was done I hadn't even the strength to crawl to my own bed, and ended up falling asleep in the barracks with the new recruits.

On day two James, Reena and Salta took our new clanmates to train, and those who wished to serve in the goddess of death's temple began pouring into the square.

"Auntie will have her own legion soon," Reece snorted into the clan channel as he set out to the temple with nearly eight hundred demons. "There'll be ritual square dancing amid the columns and races up the temple steps—all for the Mistress' glory, no doubt."

Legg and Knoren, the deputies from Zellyn and Careolla, arrived by nightfall of the second day. They were good guys, similar to Kargal in many ways. To my surprise, despite their provinces being ravaged by the plague in the past month, they had even managed to collect and deliver a decent share of taxes. We stayed up half the night, talking and drinking. I told them about myself, and they told me about their respective provinces. After receiving from them detailed maps indicating all settlements and mines, I got to thinking that the local geographical delineations weren't quite the same as they were above. An Erantian baron was supposed to be the equivalent of a local satrap. But whereas a typical barony measured around one thousand square miles, virtually all of Gilthor's and Craedia's satrapies were at least three times as large. I assumed that the devs had done this because, unlike Karn, Demon Grounds featured just one civilized state. Some seventy percent of the territory across the local satrapies were uncultivated woodlands, and the other thirty were zones where the trees ended and mountains began, with all the gorges, passes and mines that came with them. You couldn't dream of a better place for leveling. The zones were all in the 170-200 level range, and likely crammed with prizes to reward the bold and the enterprising. I asked both deputies to look for and map out any dungeons they may find, then clarified what said dungeons may look like. The deputies nodded their consent, vowing to check every shrub and question every miner and hunter in their domains.

After that talk I went to see James in the barracks, and didn't leave until the following morning.

Day three began with my unexpectedly gaining a whopping eight levels, as the system log informed me that I had completed the quest
Celphata's Will II
, and that the goddess was still friendly to me. I hadn't earned any material rewards, but for my money getting to level 190 was the best reward I could've hoped for. And considering that I'd gotten this level in less than three months' time playing the game...
The higher you climb, the harder the fall,
I reminded myself.
Don't go patting yourself on the back just yet.
With those thoughts, I headed off to check on my new clanmates trying on newly forged equipment delivered from the industrial district.

By early afternoon a pigeon arrived from Xantarra with news of an undead army five thousand strong advancing on the city from Suonu.

"Dar! Your Steel Wolves are lined up and ready to march toward Xantarra on your order!" James bellowed across the entire square, causing flocks of crows occupying the nearby trees to take off in fright.

"Excellent," I nodded to him, and opened a raid channel to save my voice from shouting. "We should be in Xantarra by nightfall three days from today. We'll move at a trot, and go around La-Kharte. By the time we reach Xantarra, the city will be one full day under siege. Reece, how are we doing on essences of light?"

"Ten for each demon," reported the mage, who had been unusually reflective since coming back from the temple two days ago.

Was he tired? Nah, probably just missing his "big sister."

"I see," I shifted my gaze to James and motioned toward the city gates. "All right, let's set out! You're up, colonel!"

Remember when I thought that Celphata had left me without a reward for completing her quest? Well I realized the error of my ways only after my half-legion made it out the gates, with the whole city seeing us off.

"Auntie!!!" Reece cried out gleefully, following by astounded exclamations in the general channel.

Heading our way on the southern road that led to the temple of the goddess of death, riding astride a bone horse with a retinue of nine bonehounds was a woman dressed all in black. On the outside, the magus of dark magic and head priestess of Celphata's temple hadn't changed at all, save for two white strands streaking through her hair, black as a raven's wing. But in every other way... Level 310, and nearly 100,000 hit points! The Mistress of Death wore four pieces of armor whose runic patterns were suspiciously similar to those on the scalable belt dropped by Nerghall. Suffice it to say, the priestess had been handsomely rewarded by her goddess, and so was I by extension.

"Dar," stopping her dogs in their tracks with a subtle gesture, the magus rode up to us, and bowed her head in a greeting.