The Bloody Hills
In this steep valleyed region, a tumultuous river crossed a gorge in a succession of waterfalls. On both banks, oaks, elms, ash and poplars stripped by the winter spread their bare branches among the cliffs, rocks and steep hills.
It was snowing a little. Snowflakes were dancing in the freezing wind that was blowing in those hills. The ground and branches of the trees were covered with a white mantle. Even the bark was clad with snow in a northerly direction, from where the bleak midwinter came.
Transformed by winter, the white landscape was of a confounding beauty. Nevertheless, the fairies of the cold and the wind had made their masterpiece by sculpting ice pendants in the waterfalls. Each stalactite was a real artist creation, similar to a spun glass making.
One would imagine such a landscape devoted to peace and contemplation...
It was not so...
It was a battlefield.
A foot crushed a branch fallen to the ground. Other feet trampled the virgin snow, turning it into the mud... A troop ran among the trees of the forest. One could hear their groaning breath. Humanoids with green skin, their open mouth unveiled canines similar to those of pigs while their slant eyes were illuminated with a yellow and orange glow. Tall, heavily built, they wore chainmail, leather, or fur armor under which powerful muscles rolled. Some went bare head, others had helmets with horns. All had a steel sword or an axe in one hand, and a circular shield on the other arm.
They arrived at the edge of a cliff overlooking the river. Other orcs were there, sheltered by trees and bushes, they wielded big bows and exchanged fire with opponents below... a fight that did not turn to their advantage!
An orc archer was take off from the ground and struck a tree behind him, pinned by an arrow made of translucent prana.
Their leader, recognizable by his orichalcum armor and his heavy axe of the same green metal, encouraged his warriors, pointing to the bottom of the slope of an imperious movement:
"Go, by Malacath, attack! We are more numerous than pink skins, better armed and above all, we are the best warriors of Tamriel! No one can beat an orc! My children (1) tear them to pieces! "
That speech was exactly what the orcs liked to hear. Strong words, like their people, ruthless words, laced with long anger, and centuries-old hatred. For too long, orcs have been suffering. Pushed back to the inhospitable mountains, their children died of hunger and cold, while the Bretons occupied the coastal plains conducive to culture and trade.
The trail that the Orc warriors were following was down to the river, which it crossed by a narrow bridge before joining the Dwynmen Highway. The region was on the border between the kingdom of Alcaire and the duchy of Phrygios, it was the most westerly territory to have been conquered by orcs during the Great Invasion.
The Bretons' victory at Koeglin now made it a disputed country. For the first time since the beginning of the invasion, seven months earlier, humans had taken over the initiative. No longer content with defending the lands they still controlled, they now sought to take back what the orcs had taken from them.
Except, of course, the orcs wouldn't let themselves be. They were brave, powerful, and numerous, and the enemy counter-attack amounted to a small band of two hundred of these ridiculous Bretons!
Victory would be easy... at least it was supposed to be.
Because the truth is...
Shiro shot so fast that the eye could not follow his movements. His arrows were flying, one after the other, and sowing death among the orc archers who had ambushed them. The Amber's eyes Hero alone failed the ambush on the Breton's left flank.
It was, however, only one of the shooting stations overlooking the river that had dug the valley, allowing the passage of a paved road traced by the Legions of the Tamriel Empire. Almost opposite, the orcs had settled on a rocky plateau, an ideal position that allowed them to cross their shots with those of their comrades. Fortunately, this position was uncovered and the archers of the small expedition had spotted the orcs shooters as they took up position, inflicting heavy casualties. Nevertheless, Verandia's expedition was in a delicate situation.
Artoria Pendragon's small army had been struggling for two days in this mountainous region. The coastal road was fiercely defended. Ambush and counter-attack succeeded each other. There, they sought to seize a barricade that cut the road to Dwynmen. Unable to maneuver in this narrow valley, Saber had launched a frontal attack that had started well... until troops of archers appeared on both sides. At present, orc warriors even launched counter-attacks at several points of the column. Placed at the top of the slopes, the green skins rolled bundles of fiery old cloth, threw rocks, before rushing to attack, grouped into powerful phalanges bristled with spears or halberds.
The air was full of war cries, arrows, and the noise of the enemy's war drums.
Shiro let Archer's bow scatter in blue prana moths.
"I'm the bone of my sword"
Kanshou and Bakuya, the twin blades appeared in his hands. He did not have to worry about the north flank; Merlin had just invoked roots as thick as human arms. Rising from the ground, they enveloped the orcs that charged, immobilizing them and delivering them defenseless to the Breton archers suddenly boosted by a support's spell cast by the Magician of Flowers. However, on the left, a confrontation rages on the deck of the bridge. The soldiers of Verandia resisted, advantaged by the narrowness of the passage. However, they suffered...
Shiro Emiya ran this way. Once again his heart pressed him to help people in distress. However, even before he reached them, a whirlwind of violet energy formed on their riverbank. From it emerged a skeleton armed with a steel shield and a silver axe. The undead wanted to attack back the Bretons, but the Amber-Eyed Blacksmith reaped it, with a neglect move of his blade.
An orc shaman must have invoked this undead. If he did not neutralize her quickly, she would continue to summon creatures. Rin's voice rose from the spiritual gem Shiro wore around his neck, like a pendant. It was a Mystic Code created by his friend. It made it possible to communicate with her. At the center of the small army, the Magus focused on controlling several familiars that flew over the battlefield:
"Shiro the summoner is on the other side. You see the tree grove on the right of the bridge?" The Amber-Eyed Hero nodded "Yes, I see, is that where she is?" "Exactly!"
Shiro threw his twin blades in the direction of the orcs. Swirling, they mowed several attackers before dissipating. The redhead then focused on a weapon he wanted to test since Artoria had shown him his memories of that sword.
He inspired and exhaled very rapidly, reaching out. His Magic Circuits lit up on both his arms. Electric arcs appeared in front of his fingers, showing a blurred shape. Shiro tightened his teeth. Sweat trickled down his face as he strove to shape the weapon that rested inside Unlimited Blade Work.
"Steel is my body and fire is my blood"
"I have created over a thousand blades"
In the third verse of his incantation, the pre-projection process was completed. Like a crystallizing thought, the two-handed sword materialized. It was the culmination of the Tracing process, the Magecraft whose mystery was the exclusivity of Shiro Emiya... from all versions of Shiro, in fact. The long sword was white, except for handle and part of the strong of the blade which was blue, as the extreme point. This sword was heavy, with a simple and massive design, especially at the level of the triangular guard.
According to legend, the weapon was forged by incorporating the pieces of Caliburn, the broken sword of Artoria. This was the sword of Sir Gawain, the Sun Knight.
Shiro did not take the time to dwell on the history of this weapon. He had more urgent to do:
"Your will. My holy sword is the embodiment of the sun. Under the king's command, I will burn all on the surface of the ground."
The Amber-Eyed Blacksmith threw the weapon into the sky.
"The blade of this sacred sword is a copy of the sun itself. Holy sword of the stars, swing once again!"
A small sun appeared where the sword burst into beams of golden light, radiating powerful and warm rays. From it was born a pillar of fire that fell before Shiro. The reincarnated young Japanese grasped it as if it were the sword itself. Invoking the name of the Noble Phantasm to liberate its strength:
"Excalibur Galatine!"
As the blade of fire fell to the ground, the horrified orcs raised their arms... but nothing could resist the solar fire. A raw, unbearable light enveloped them... then the gigantic, disproportionate sword touched the ground of the hill, causing the trees to explode, incinerating them in an instant. The river boiled, spewing clouds of steam.
When the blinding brilliance dissipated, there remained only a long trench dug in the hills. The black-sided breach still glowed with multiple fires that spewed black smoke into the sky. The river was now spreading in the lower part of the smoking scar, filling it up to create a small elongated lake.
There was nothing left of the orcs that had stood there. Right now, a few hundred of them had been cremated.
Shiro swallowed... aware of the massacre he had just caused.
However, the orcs war horns sounded the retreat and the reincarnated Japanese shivered to see the enemies ebbing away with frightened glances. The teenager thought that he had shortened the confrontation and finally saved hundreds of lives, however, he would relive for a long time this scene of carnage...
Artoria Pendragon let down her invisible blade. Orcs retreated in good order, without panicking. Some elements covered the others retreating while their archers continued to shoot at her forces. Having spent years on the battlefield, King Arthur slowly acquiesced... Far from their reputation as barbarians barely able to differentiate the right from the left, the green-skinned warriors were organized and clearly knew the practices of the art of war.
Faced with the power that Shiro had just liberated, the hearts of most would have broken with fear. Abandoning their weapons and their shields, they would have fled with all the strength of their leg and would have ceased to run only at the end of endurance.
Nevertheless, the orcs were of a different kind. Even faced with the unimaginable power of a Noble Phantasm, they showed no fear. Such courage could only inspire respect for a knight of Artoria Pendragon's stature.
"Do not pursue the enemy in the hills, it may be a trap! Stay in formation and follow me, we must secure the enemy camp."
The soldiers of Verandia did not argue. For two months Artoria had been leading them, they had become aware that the young woman always made the right decisions in battle. Even reduced to a band of fewer than two hundred men, they remained confident, magnetized by the charisma of their young leader.
Flanked by Gonderic de Bel-Amant and Baron Estienne de Vignonne, both of whom had fought alongside her during the assault on the orc barricade, Saber advanced cautiously. Attentive, she looked through the rough fortifications. Strike Air had allowed her to open several gaps in the dam of fallen trunks and barrels filled with stones. Beyond, the camp of the invaders extended. However, the only orcs she saw were corpses lying on the ground.
In her footsteps, the Bretons invaded the other side of the embankment, which had been planted with stakes. The orc cantonment had nothing luxurious, simple tents of hides planted in a circle around campfires. Here and there boxes and bags contained food, while barrels supplied the drink.
Artoria approved of a movement of the chin.
Despite the rumors that the Bretons spreading on their hereditary enemies, the orcs were not anthropophagi, they hunted, raised and cultivated like humans. So anything they ate could be safely consumed... although it is only dried meat, grey bread, and bad beer! It must be said that orcs had no culinary culture. They simply roasted or boiled their food, knowing only salt for a single seasoning, ignoring sauces like spices. A very depressing thought for Saber, she could no longer live without the dishes lovingly concocted by her lover.
"Hunger is the enemy."
She often repeated this maxim to Shiro... certainly, to legitimize her quenchless appetite. But this expression reflected the reality of any war. The good spirit of a soldier was in his stomach.
"Take away every food you can carry, destroy the rest!"
It was at least as important for the small army to seize abandoned supplies as to deprive the enemy and thus weaken them.
"Lady Artoria?"
Saber turned to the one who had just called her. It was a sergeant-at-arms accompanying a black-skinned man who could only be a Redguard. The soldier saluted:
"Lady Artoria, we found this individual tied up and gagged in one of the tents."
Saber more carefully detailed the man who had just been delivered. Still young, he was clean-shaven and wore boiled leather armor on a green tunic. A cape of the same color wrapped him. The Redguard bowed eagerly:
"My name is Nasrir, I am a Kynareth's Druid. I have lived in this valley with my wife for two years now. My house is a little north of here. A week ago, the orcs settled here and captured us... I was separated from my Gwenda. Please find her."
"Gwenda? Is that your wife's name?"
The man named Nasrir agreed:
"Yes, a Breton I married five years ago."
A hand placed on his chest, Artoria bowed slightly forward:
"Rest sure. I, Artoria Pendragon, swear on my knighthood honor to do everything in my power to find Gwenda."
"... according to her husband, the orcs took Gwenda to the hills south of the river. Since you are the closest, Saber asks you to go and see."
Shiro nodded when he heard Rin's voice coming up from the soul gem he was wearing like a necklace.
"All right, tell Saber I'll take care of it."
There was a silence and then...
"Take care of yourself... no... not that I care, but I don't want to have to tell Saber that you killed yourself trying again to be a hero like the idiot you are."
Shiro smiles at the embarrassed explanation of his tsundere friend.
"Thanks for caring, Rin."
"It's... it's normal to care about your ally. You... you... are an important asset to our army, so don't risk your life carelessly."
After the conversation, Shiro strengthened his muscles and bones before running up the path that had allowed the orcs to attack. As lively as the wind, he leaped from one tree to another, attentive to any bad encounter. Well, he took it... there were always orcs in the hills, a rearguard to watch the movements of the Bretons.
He dodged two arrows from the edge of the trees and turned to the warriors in armor who came out to meet him:
"Trace On."
The words, hardly more than a whisper, had just left Emiya's lips than the pair of Chinese sabers he preferred materialized between his fingers. The sequel was a dazzling demonstration of fencing. Shiro's fighting style was not as graceful as the art of Artoria's sword. He handled the married blades with brutal efficiency, striking the weak points of the armor of his enemies, not hesitating to throw one of his weapons to hit an enemy in the back, or jumping undercover to run to an opponent away.
Courageously, the orcs faced without an idea of retreat... and perished until the last.
Rid of his opponents, the Amber-Eyed Blacksmith set out again. Twice, he faced other orcs. Like the first group, they sought to stop him with little more success, even if a shaman with magical staff participated in one of the fights.
Shiro Emiya was simply too fast and agile for these clumsy orcs. Soon the last opponent collapsed into a pool of blood.
The magus had attacked this group in a small camp well concealed by trees and bushes. The hide tents were on a rocky ridge overlooking the river. From this point on, there was an excellent view of the road, which explains why the orcs had set up an observation post there.
He also found a young woman tied up and cut off her ties:
"Are you Gwenda?"
"Yes, it's me... how do you know my name? Who are you?"
The red-haired teenager smiles:
"My name is Shiro, your husband sent me to find you."
"I don't know how to thank you. I can't offer you anything in compensation; we're poor people, just druids."
But Emiya simply shook his head without ceasing to smile:
"Helping others is a sufficient reward."
Gwenda looked at his savior with an expression of incomprehension... which Shiro was accustomed to.
Twice more, before the sun sets, Artoria's small army was attacked. Nevertheless, these new ambushes were turned against the killer whales thanks to the help of the druid couple. They use their knowledge of the region to guide counter-attacks by paths ignored by the invaders.
The night had nothing peaceful.
Orc commandos crept several times on the outskirts of the camp. Unfortunately for them, the Bretons sentries that surrounded it were mostly there out of habit. The real defense of their cantonment was a Bounded Field. Before each attack, a chime sounded warning the defenders of the assault, while the arrows broke helplessly against a curtain of reddish energy. The sentinels supplied with night vision potions then had only to retaliate and drill with arrows the powerless opponents.
Gonderic de Bel-Amant shook his head. With Estienne de Vignonne, he was one of the six "heroes" who were the hope of Verandia's expedition, the only reason why ordinary militiamen did not despair of being isolated in these hills amidst countless enemies.
However, they were not up to real heroes like Artoria Pendragon, Shiro Emiya or Rin Tohsaka (who had created the Bounded Field protecting the camp). Gonderic had been traveling with them for over two months and now knew their history... they came from another world and were reincarnated to counter Angra Mainyu.
Merlin was an even more impressive being. The knight glanced at the Magician of Flowers, warming his hands at a fire. He did not need to sleep, so he walked the camp every night to participate in the defense.
Tohsaka had explained to Gondéric what a "Heroic Spirit" was. The idea made him shiver... Besides a dragon, a Daedric Prince or a god who could fight a "Servant"?
Merlin turned and gave him a smile that made the knight of Verandia shiver. Gonderic rushed to the big tent in the center of the camp before the magician decided to make one of his horrible jokes.
Lifting the piece of cloth forming the entrance to the pavilion of canvas, the knight of Bel-Amant had to force himself to contain the feeling of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm him.
On the ground, blankets and sheets were crumpled discovering... more than covering, three bodies tightly entwined. Shiro was in the center, Artoria was nestled against him, an arm passed around his shoulders. On the left, mirrored by the other woman, Rin had her head on the boy's chest. But her hand extended farther touched the arm of the woman-knight, as if to make sure that she was there and that she would not abandon her.
The faces of the three sleeping teenagers reflected peace and affection. Gonderic sighed as he remembered something his mother once told him. You don't lie in your sleep. No one could deny the love that united these three young people after seeing them like this. It was adorable and part of him felt warmth and tenderness watching them... But another part he was not particularly proud of became irritated!
It was not that Gonderic was particularly attracted to Tohska or Artoria... at least more than a normal man could be attracted by two young women as beautiful. However, at times like this, the knight wanted to scream "Why him and not me?"... In fact, it was a kind of universal reaction that could be called the "Shiro effect".
Hesitating to wake up the trio, Gonderic de Bel-Amant saw Artoria beating his eyelids and straightening herself, pinning the sheet on her chest. Although just awake, her voice was as clear as in the middle of the battle:
"I offer you good morning, Sire Knight. Is it dawn already?
The son of the new Duke of Verandia approved with a nod:
"Indeed, Lady Artoria. I have come to wake you... though it pains me to disturb your rest."
Rubbing her eyes with one hand, Saber suspended her movement to watch Shiro stretch. A gentle smile appeared on her lips... An expression she had only when she looked at her lover or their friend.
"In my heart is inscribed the selfish vow to remain in their arms for eternity" Artoria's expression suddenly hardens. "Nevertheless, Sir Knight, it will wait... We have a war to win." She had a low laugh" And waking Rin will take me an hour."
The fourth day of travel in the hills west of Alcaire was not without enemy assaults. In fact, the first ambush had been laid on a plateau to which the Imperial Way was going. While the orc infantry stationed at the top of the climb sought to contain Artoria, Gonderic, and Estienne charging at the head of a hundred fighters, Archers were shooting at the Bretons from the top of the cliff... to be decimated by Shiro's arrows and Rin's Finn Shots.
Busy throwing "buffs" at his allies, treating them, and using "debuffs" on his enemies, Merlin shook his head. He no longer counted the number of orc attacks that turned into complete disarray. Yet the humanoids continued to harass them, as to fortify every place favorable to the defense. Again and again and again... their stubbornness went beyond simple courage. It began to seem abnormal to him.
Above all, it was completely vain...
In the front row of the Bretons, Artoria Pendragon brought her invisible sword to her ear. A bluish aura fluttered around her, mingling with a golden glow that filtered from the inside of Excalibur's air sheath:
"Starlight Divergence!"
Five wind cones were born from Excalibur, each enveloping a discharge of energy. In the narrow mountain path, they were the equivalent of a cataclysm. The orcs entrenched on the ridge were thrown into the void, shredded by explosions or bombarded with rocks falling from the cliff. A massacre...
Merlin shook his head and struck the ground with his stick, bringing out roots from the ground that immobilized the survivors... quickly riddled with arrows by their archers.
Yes, such tactics were completely useless against them. Mass attacks of ordinary warriors could only lead to sacrificing many people without results. His king could kill a thousand warriors all by himself, armed with Excalibur. Moreover, her prana armor made her almost invulnerable to ordinary attacks.
The rocky plateau was occupied by a village... the houses were reduced to collapsed walls, charred frames. The only intact building was the chapel of Syrabane (2). A woman in white and golden dress stood on the threshold, greeted them, and then lowered her hood, revealing the golden skin and pointed ears of a High Elf:
"Welcome to Brass Moor, or what's left of it, liberators of Alcaire." On one hand, she pointed to the ruins of the village. "My name is Eldacaraima. I am the priestess of Syrabane."
Saber, who was riding at the head of the column, pulled on the reins of her horse and bowed:
"I am Artoria pendragon, knight of the Order of the Rose, captain of this company of the army of the Duke of Verandia."
If to hear that a knight of Menevi was at the head of an army of a country on the other side of Hight-Rock surprised the priestess, she did not show it. On the contrary, the Aldmer agreed:
"Lady Pendragon, the orcs respected the chapel of my god. But they only freed me so that I would be their messenger. The inhabitants of this village were captured by the orcs when they took the area a month ago. Many have died as a result of abuse. The tribe shaman turned the dead into zombies or ghosts; they roam the caves where the orcs settled. The villagers still in life work at the sawmill on the river south of here. Thorak gro Buramog, chief of the Broken Tooth Tribe sent me to tell you that if you attack his camp, he will kill them without hesitation. He orders you to abandon the premice and turn back to Koeglin if you do not want him to carry out his threat."
As the face of Artoria was freezing with anger, Eldacaraima quickly spoke again:
"For my part, sir knight, I urge you to attack the orcs as soon as possible. The villagers are suffering from hunger and cold, half of them already dead. It is better to risk their lives by attacking Thorak's lair than the certainty of seeing their agony continue in the hands of these barbarians. I would also ask you to find my sword, the Icy Blade of the Monarch (3). It was stolen by the troll Vhruk."
Artoria frowned:
"A troll? I thought they were too stupid to steal a sword."
The Aldmer had a sad smile:
"This is not an ordinary troll. It belongs to a rarer and older breed than the three-eyed trolls in Cyrodiil, Skyrim, and Solstheilm. Ancestral trolls are able to speak, to use weapons. They are bigger, with long arms. They have green skin, covered with clumps of dirty fur, a big nose... and only two eyes. Despite the name "troll", they are not related to the common troll (4)."
Artoria bowed even lower:
"Keep your heart at peace, Lady Eldacaraima. On my honor as a knight, I swear I will prevail in this battle. Thorak and Vhruk will perish. One way or another, the suffering of the people of Brass Moor will end today."
After summarizing the objectives of the battle (taking the orc camp, freeing the prisoners, killing Thorak and Vhruk, finding the Icy Blade of the Monarch), Saber turned to her small staff. Merlin was silent, Gonderic and Estienne studied the map that Rin had drawn thanks to her familiar sent in reconnaissance.
Unsurprisingly, Shiro rebelled:
"We cannot attack. Orcs will kill hostages!"
The heart of Artoria tightened... part of herself review an identical conversation with her knights, there in Britain... She had sacrificed a village to the Saxons to win a battle.
"Shiro, we will try to save the villagers but... if we do not attack, the orcs will finish the dam and the fortress on the river Issen. They will then be able to hold the border with the duchy of Phrygios and repel the relief army. There will be thousands dead... and orcas will win. The city of Wayrest will be taken, the people will pass by the sword... this massacre will be a sufficient sacrifice to revive Angra Mainyu. Between the certainty of the end of the world and the risk of losing a few dozen villagers, I do not consider that there is really any choice.
The two lovers dared to look at each other. Shiro knew the story of King Arthur, the truth behind the legend; he knew that the woman he loved had sacrificed innocents. And he wouldn't let her do it again:
"There must be a way to save these people!"
Saber's face had taken the consistency of the stone. Hard-eyed, she did not answer.
"Maybe it's possible, actually."
Artoria and Shiro turned to Rin who had just spoken. The red Magus put a finger on the map:
"The orcs left open one of the gates of the palisade surrounding their camp. Obviously, it's not the one near the slave pen. They're not stupid. Let's imagine that someone infiltrates their camp, goes by the entrance to the second door and opens it from the inside? The woods are a few tens of meters from this door. We could hide men and attack before the orcs even know we're here."
Estienne de Vignonne straightened up:
"Impossible! The man we're sending would have to go through the second gate, which is guarded by a dozen men, and then through the entire enemy camp. In broad daylight! Without being spotted! It's impossible!"
Rin had one of her Machiavellian smiles. A hand passed over her belly, with her finger raised, she turned to the redhead teen:
"Shiro, can you remind us what Corvus Direnni gave you as a farewell present?"
The change of subject seemed a surprising moment for the young Magus, then his face illuminated with understanding:
"A... a cloak of invisibility."
Rin's smile was accentuated:
"Now listen to my battle plan..."
While she was planning the assault, Tosaka was watching Saber and Shiro behind her back. Although she prefers to be considered a classic, cold, logical, ruthless Magus, Rin actually hid an older sister's temperament, secretly caring for others. Saving the villagers mattered to her almost as much as Emiya. However, nothing could hurt her more than an argument between Shiro-kun and Saber-chan. She loved them. She would do anything to keep them happy and close to her.
Since the time of Fuyuki's Fifth Grail War, Rin Tosaka was the tactician of the trio she formed with Shiro and Saber. She had helped her friends defeat Berserker and Gilgamesh. Defeating a few orcs was not a problem.
Protected by the cloak of invisibility of Corvus Direnni, Shiro slipped to the capstan controlling the second door of the camp. Before the orcs understood what was happening, Rin and Merlin appeared in front of the expeditionary force. They rushed inside the camp. Some guards then reacted; starting to run towards the enclosure to the slaves, probably to kill the hostages... but roots arose from the ground and immobilized them.
The bulk of the garrison, waiting by the door saw a crystal falling among them. A moment later, the soul gem exploded into a huge fireball.
Rin's attack had broken the line of defense. Surprised, shocked the orcs were tearing to pieces by the attackers.
Simultaneously, the attack on the first gate was launched by Artoria, Gonderic and Estienne.
Thorak gro Buramog tried to stop the Bretons and fell under Saber's sword, the latter realizing only after the blow to have eliminated the enemy leader by seeing the orcs coming out.
The battle was almost over and with it the liberation of the hills.
Leaving the cleaning of the camp to the soldiers, Artoria, Rin, Shiro, Merlin, Gonderic, and Estienne entered the caves. These were natural caves dug into the limestone by a river now extinct. Stalactites fell from ceilings and stalagmites rose from a ground covered with large puddles of water. Here and there torches were burning.
The "dungeon" was a classic of the genre, traps, monsters (especially zombies and ghosts), and some chests containing precious objects. Everywhere the ground was covered with skeletons and decomposed corpses of villagers.
But the small group triumphed over everything; Shiro used Structural Analysis to uncover traps and Tracing to project the keys to the chests. So they didn't need a thief to defuse these mechanisms. Faced with a group where all were both skilled in magic and excellent fighters, the enemies were simply no match.
They arrived in the last cave, serving as a throne room for the troll Vhruk.
As the humanoid monster sought to haggle, Artoria aimed at a potion of Comprehension of Languages and advanced to discuss. Alas, Vhruk believed himself immortal and his negotiation amounted to clumsy intimidation: "I Vhruk powerful. Invincible. No weapon kill Vhruk. You leave or Vhruk kill you!"
The troll perfectly embodied the social Darwinism so dear to Malacath. The leaders had big muscles and a small brain.
The fight was inevitable and it was brief.
The orcs warriors and the shaman were eliminated in a few moments before Saber faced Vhruk in a duel. She cut the monster in half from the shoulder to the hip... then used a vial of intense fire oil to incinerate the corpse that continued to regenerate even after death.
Having found the Icy Blade of the Monarch in a chest near Vhruk's "throne", they brought it back to Eldacaraima.
The orcs were in disarray...
Their leaders were dead...
The villagers were saved.
They had won the battle.
(1) Orc warriors are literally the children of their leader. Malacath's code says that the tribal chief must obtain his place by confronting his predecessor in a duel to the death so that the strongest leads. The head thus appointed is the only one to have the right to give birth. All the women of the tribe are therefore his wives (or daughters, who will eventually marry the leader of another tribe) and all the young males are his children. Orc society holds both social Darwinism and patriarchy in their worst. Ew!
(2) Syrabane: Altmer archmage with a legendary magic ring (the Syrabane ring). He played a key role in the defeat of the Sloads (a necromancer's race of monsters) in finding a cure for the Thracian plague which they had spread in the Illiac's Bay around 2200 1E. After his death, he was divinized. He is now known as a "cadet god" with magic as his domain. While Magnus is the main god of magic, worshipped by confirmed spell casters, Syrabane protects apprentices. Among the High Elves, the Snow Elves, and the Bretons, the students of the magic schools are placed under his patronage.
(3) The Icy Blade Monarch is a magic sword that owes its powers to the soul of a "Monarch" of ice, a more powerful variant of the ice atronach. Note: This weapon is not official TES content but appears in several mods (additional content created by players) since TES III Morrowind.
(4) This is the troll of TES I Arena. According to the bestiary of this game, they are at the service of powerful magicians (created by them?). Jagar Tharn - the usurper of the imperial throne- sent them to eliminate his opponents. Although described as stupid, they are nevertheless intelligent enough that the player can convince them to leave him in peace.