leonsion: Miriel, is she really weak? You ask an important question and I thank you.
It should be understood that OOO and Yggdrasil/ the New World are two very different universes and it is difficult to compare them.
In the New World, 99% of people have a level between 1 and 40 (by comparison, a Death Knight is level 35). The most powerful characters on the continent are between levels 41 and 70 (Evileye is Level 50). There are only a few higher-level characters in the New World (Antilene is considered the most powerful person in the New Word and she is level 88... with a totally absurd character build). And - as a reminder- the Floors Guardians of Nazarick and Ainz are all level 99 (the max level possible).
As for magic, spells from the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd tiers are relatively frequently used by the spell casters of the New World... tier 4 and 5 are much rarer and a single magician in all the New World (Fluder Paradyne) can cast tier 6 spells. Remember that Narberal Gamma used tier 7 spells and that Ainz uses even more powerful spells... legendary tier from the viewpoint of the inhabitants of the New World.
Sorry for the long explanation, but it was necessary.
Although level 35 (the same level as a Death Knight) Miriel is actually significantly stronger. She is a PC, plus her characteristics are higher than a normal Player and she has an excellent character build (Miriel is her second character for OOO).
From the point of view of magic, it is more complex... the spells in OOO are very similar to the magic of Yggdrasil (because both games plagiarize D&D). Nevertheless, Miriel is advantaged because, in Yggdrasil, most defenses spell work this way: "This spell from the XX tier protects from any YY type spells from the XX tier and below"... Any defensive spell 'knows' the lower tier spells and neutralizes them, but does not 'know' the higher tier spells and is therefore ineffective against them; this is the principle of operation of magic in Yggdrasil.
Except Miriel's magic doesn't belong to 'tier magic'. Defense spells do not recognize her attacks as belonging to a lower tier.
Note that this does not mean that Miriel's spells are capable of killing Ainz in a single attack... no, not at all. OOO has its own balancing system based on levels (the difference between the caster level and the defender level).
Targos besieged
Miriel walked almost without speaking, the sacrifice of Pierre Barbet had shocked her. Intellectually, she immediately understood that being 'Isekaied' in a real medieval fantasy world was not a game.
She could not recharge her previous backup; death was real here, for herself and for others.
But it was the first time since her arrival that she lost a friend.
Barbet teleported her to the bearer of the third medallion... Diolaine Gisle Kuri. The latter was no longer dressed as a French Maid, but dressed in a 'gypsy' skirt with leather and rings armored top. She had on her belt the sheaths of a short sword and a dagger. Clinging to her backpack, the thief carried also a heavy crossbow.
During their march, the half-elf had discussed about Barbet's end with the thief/ spy and she explained to the wizard that it was an idea of the bishop that she follow them discreetly, several hours behind them. If ever, they fall into an ambush they could teleport safely to Diolaine.
A good plan... but the medallions of the two women had fallen into dust proof that their charge was exhausted, so Pierre Barbet was trapped with no chance of escape.
Obviously, they had made a big detour not to pass near the site of the Jaldabaoth ambush.
For two days they had walked west and finally, they arrived in view of their objective.
Brass Fort was a fortress that offered a certain resemblance to Norman castles like the Tower of London. The exterior walls were high, and vertical, with round towers at the corners. In the center of the fort, there was a huge square keep whose entrance was on the second floor. One could access this entry by an easy-to-destroy wooden staircase.
Surprisingly, the dungeon was converted into a... inn.
Diolaine explained to her that travelers entering the Slane Theocracy had to pay fees and undergo a thorough inspection which was not instantaneous. So they had to stay in the inn...
Miriel being far from naive noticed that the prices of the hostel were particularly prohibitive. The commander of Brass Fort had found a very simple way to gain an extra dollar... no doubt that the inspections were very careful and therefore... long.
Fortunately, Diolaine and Miriel had passes signed by Monsignor Barbet and the guards let them in without asking for customs duty or searching their belongings.
Walking between the tables in the direction of the inn counter, the Summoner was looking for a known visage... Barbet had said that 'friends' were waiting for her at Brass Fort.
But she frowned... there were surprisingly few merchants and many families... as for the atmosphere one could have described it with the word 'gloomy'. No wandering minstrel playing music to win some pieces, no laughing, no singing drunk man... only people that looked at their glasses with empty eyes and drank to forget. The children cried and the women were exhausted.
"What's going on here?"
"You don't know," Diolaine replied. "The demi-human alliance took Bremmen from the Robble Holly Kingdom. They are refugees fleeing hordes of goblins ravaging villages and looting farms."
"This way!"
A half-elf had risen from a table near the counter and beckoned them to come. Surprised, Miriel recognized...
"Khalid?"
Indeed, it was Khalid Deez and he was accompanied by...
"Antilene?"
The heterochromia girl did not wear her usual white armor but only a quite ordinary besantine. She had left her favorite weapon to Silksuntecks to fight with a Glaive (a polearm weapon). Miriel later learned that for reasons of incognito, she had not been allowed to take treasures belonging to the Theocracy of Slane.
After recounting Jadalbaoth's ambush and reporting Bishop Barbet's probable death, Miriel asked Antilene to explain what she was supposed to do now.
The heterochromia girl drank a sip of beer and shrugged her shoulders.
"The Supreme Council want us to discreetly help the Robble Holly Kingdom... maybe they're tired of seeing refugees invade our land... or they're afraid of a Great Invasion of near-human barbarians that would ravage everything in their path, burning and plundering... they value their little comfort."
Khalid sighed.
"This is not really a subject for joke. The New World has not been in such a dire situation for two hundred years..."
But Lady Fouche shrugged her shoulders and rose to fetch another beer (her fourth tankard).
Building on the heterochromia girl's departure, Miriel leaned toward Khalid.
"But I want to get away from Jaldabaoth. I'm in danger. It's an absurd order. The demon Emperor leads the hordes of half-humans ravaging Robble."
"Still, it's not a bad idea."
Khalid and Miriel turned to Diolaine since she had just spoken. The girl with pink hair blushed slightly, embarrassed by their looks.
"Isn't that obvious? The last place Jaldabaoth will be looking for you is Robble, any sane person run away from this doomed kingdom."
"About that... " Khalid rummaged in his bag to take out a sheet of parchment that he unfolded on the table. Out of words, Miriel recognized... a portrait of her, very recognizable, and even in color! "Antilene and I met a body hunter on the road asking about you... you're wanted alive (and alive only) for 10,000 gold coins."
Khalid stopped talking for a moment and then showed Miriel armor.
"There's even a description of the elven chainmail you wear and the spells you use."
The following morning brought its share of surprise to the new 'mercenaries' about to leave to engage in the war of the Robble Holly Kingdom.
First, Miriel discovered that Antilene and Khalid were sharing the same bedroom. And since they were neighbors, she also discovered that they weren't just sleeping together... yes, yes, you really understood what I was trying to say.
Antilene claimed to anyone who wanted to hear that she wanted a man stronger than her... Khalid was certainly not able to beat Antilene and force her to the nearest bed. Khalid was quite the opposite of a barbaric rapist and conqueror... he was even of an exasperating shyness.
Miriel thought she understood Antilene having had a gothic friend who had a bit of the same character...but now, the wizard admitted that the heterochromia girl was really out of the chart... she wished good luck to the one who tried to predict her behavior.
But the most... surprising... surprise was for Antilene and Khalid. But for the Summoner it was even more embarrassing than hearing the couple through the partition... Diolaine had made the trip with all the artifices of a make-up artist and a hairdresser that were part of her maid/spy work. Now she was pulling Miriel by the hand into the great hall of the inn, the thief offering her as proof of her know-how...
Khalid looked at Miriel in an expression of admiration that earned him a frustrated pout from Antilene (Rule number 1 of Survival of the Couple: never openly admire another woman than your fiancée. Rule number 2, if your beloved is called Antilene reread rule number 1 three times).
"Hey... weren't you supposed to have freckles?"
Diolaine waved her index negatively, smiling with satisfaction.
"My makeup case can do wonders. A good makeup can hide skin imperfections, such as freckles."
Antilene was more interested in the Summoner's new hairstyle.
"What did you do to her? Her hair was normally dark brown.. and now her hair was wavy, she has straight hair normally..."
"I dye her hair darker."
"Why not in blond" asked Khalid.
Miriel answered instead of her friend.
"My hair would grow back dark brown, and after a few days the roots would be noticeable."
There were enough Gals in her high school to dye their hair blonde to witness the resulting disaster.
Antilene insisted on Miriel's wavy hair. The wizard's braid was now untied, and her hair fell in a steady wave on her shoulders, except for a strand that hung on her cheek.
"I used Crimping Irons."
Khalid gave Miriel a long admiring look.
"Anyway, your outfit is... uh... remarkable!"
The half-elf blushed violently.
The wizard dress that she was wearing was part of the loot from the last dungeon she had conquered... it had fallen to her during the sharing (because it was a dress only useful to a wizard) but she had never intended to wear it. It must be said that, in OOO, the female equivalents of male armor and clothing were significantly sexier than their male equivalent; it was some kind of 'magic' specific to certain video games. By a strange coincidence, OOO players were also essentially male... who said Eye Candy?
The female version of the "Traveler Mage's Dress" had a pronounced cleavage... and on the side of the skirt a slit up to the top of the thigh... at each step, Miriel widely showed her left leg.
As a result, the Summoner was absolutely mortified...
"In any case, you no longer resemble the 'Wanted' posters that Jaldabaoth spreads in the Slane Theocracy," said Khalid to reassure her.
The way he looked at her, one could trust him.
After leaving Brass Fort, the quartet marched west for four days.
They met refugees who told them terrible things about the capture of Bremmen. The city had been blazing for days, forming a column of black smoke visible 20 leagues away.
People who had fled after the capture of the city said that humans were hunted like game, locked in cages, and participated in torture contests... as raw material.
The invading army had advanced south and the city of Targos was now under siege.
When they arrived at Daggerford, they saw that an army was being set up at the gates of the fortified city. Tents and campfires covered the fields south of the city. The city was in the grip of a desperate agitation. Workers had erected winches at the top of the walls and mounted wooden beams and shingles to build hoarding (defensive wooden superstructures) to reinforce the battlements, while columns of women and children were leaving the city through the south door. The streets were filled with soldiers and mercenaries going bar hopping.
Posters displayed in the streets urged Miriel, Diolaine, Antilene, and Khalid to the riverport. Merchant ships had been hastily assembled. Mercenaries and adventurers boarded them.
The Shulayen River that passed through Daggerford also passed through Targos and was the last path leading to the besieged city. Goblins already cutting all land roads.
The ships sailed north for two days. But on the evening of the second day when the ships were already in sight of Targos, thousands of archers opened fire on both sides of the river.
They were firing flaming arrows.
The projectiles went through the sails and into the wooden deck of the ships. Thousands of fiery projectiles turned ships into as many fiery porcupines.
That evening, the inhabitants of Targos had the impression that a dozen suns were setting on the river.
Mercenaries and adventurers who were not killed by arrows or fire had to swim on armor to the shore... Exhausted, they were 'greeted' by goblin patrols riding giant wolves.
None of them survived...
Except for a ship protected by an invisible shield pushing back the arrows.
But what could a single small group of mercenaries do to save Targos?
Chaos reigned over the river port of Targos. The streets smelled of blood and smoke rising from burning houses. Wild cries, the clash of arms, and orders of officers seeking to reorganize the failed militia were heard. Goblins had appeared, killing, slaughtering the non-combatants, throwing themselves en masse at the guards present. With the effect of surprise, they had killed more than one.
Tristane Gaerwyth was an ordinary militiaman. A few months ago, he was still working in the harbor as a worker in a shipyard. His ambitions were limited to hoping to be noticed by a master carpenter and become a journeyman carpenter... and thus have a better salary. Instead, he found himself dressed in bad cloth armor, a Chapel-de-fer on his head with a short sword of steel and a wooden shield marked with the city's arms to stand guard at the end of a wharf.
Damn goblins...
And still, Tristane felt lucky. He returned from a turn on the wooden wall that surrounded the city. At least on the docks, all we had to worry about was the cold and not another attack from those horrible little green monsters. At least that's what he thought.
And then, they had appeared where they were least expected... without warning from the ramparts, they had spread into the streets of the harbor, attacking the inhabitants and the guards.
Tristane swallowed, raising his shield high. His two comrades, at his side, imitated his posture. One of them had a war axe, and the other had the same rudimentary sword as Tristane, mass-produced by the Targos ironworks to equip the militiamen.
The Goblins arrived; a dozen of them... dirty little green monster, dressed in filthy rags. The first of them held a rusty sword and a circular shield. Its "armor" was made of the bones of a creature's ribcage. He wore a leather cap from which came long pointed ears. The little monster began to giggle, discovering a mouth filled with chipped and yellowed fangs. His sharp and scratched voice sounded sinister:
" On va les torturer, les pendre par les entrailles"
What he had just said must have been very witty because these companions laughed in turn, folding their immense orange eyes.
"Nice"!
The goblin who had just spoken held a coarse scimitar, a circular shield made of loose boards and covered with a clumsy red paint drawing. Without armor, he was just wearing a loincloth of poorly dressed skins and strips of fabric around his hands and feet. His shoulders were covered by a mitted wolf skin. His quasi-nudity allowed his clan tattoos to be discerned.
"Yes! Yes!"
A third mockingly approved. He was wearing armor made of pieces of iron badly forged and pitted by corrosion: a plastron, a helmet with a visor. He used a human-made steel shield and an axe of the same metal, which also had to come from looting.
Tall as 12-year-old children, scary thin, they weren't very impressive. Nevertheless, those who underestimated goblins bitterly regretted it. Admittedly, a goblin alone was not a threat to an adult man even if rudimentary armed... but where one of these little monsters was seen, there were ten, a hundred, or even a thousand nearby. Nor should we delude ourselves about their apparent fragility. In fact, these little horrors were surprisingly strong for their size, more than a grown man.
"Let's go, boys!"
On this statement, the goblins rushed forward. Though cowards, like all bullies, they found their courage in numbers... and so they had great courage when they were four against one.
Immediately, Tristane's universe became a whirlwind of scarlet violence. It was necessary to strike, counter, taking care not to break the line with his two companions. Better organized, the humans broke the first assault. The goblins retreated, leaving four of their own on the ground... one of them still lived and whimpered pitifully. As he sought to crawl to his allies, one of the guards finished him. This earned a concert of furious cries from the surviving goblins that reorganized themselves a few tens of meters away. Tristane turned to his neighbor:
"Why did you do that? They're even angrier now!"
"Given what they are preparing to hang us by the guts, or something like that, I have no intention of showing pity.
"I see..."
The three guards tightened their ranks. None of them were career soldiers, but this was their town, and... they had nothing to hope for but a quick death in case of defeat, and only if they were lucky. It was not good to corner ordinary people; they could fight better than professionals.
The second assault was even more violent. Tristane smashed the skull of the first goblin; and blocked the attack of a second then counter-attack plunging his short blade right into its chest as it raised its club to strike. Alas, the militiamen had made a rookie mistake, sinking his sword too deeply. While he was trying to get the blade out, a monster with an axe struck him above the elbow. In horror, the young man saw his severed arm fall to the ground. By reflex, he gave a shield blow to his opponent, repelling him and knocking him down. The militiaman to his left finished him by hitting him in the head before he got up again. It was only at this moment that Tristane was overcome by pain, bringing him to his knees.
" Kikotenshin Nekonyan... Alah Alaf... Surshana... oh gods, give me strength!"
The invocation to the Great Gods was to take effect, because because the goblins stopped at once five of them collapsing to the ground... pierced through by arrows or crossbow bolts! Already the invisible archers fired again and like the first salvo, two projectiles stuck in the backs of the runaway goblins that scattered between the houses of the port, screaming with terror.
Immediately, Tristane's companions rushed to give him first aid. They stopped the bleeding by making a tourniquet with a strip of cloth torn from his coat of arms. The -now- one-armed militiaman stared at the corpse of the guardsmen on the ground... In fact, he must have considered himself lucky. He survived, not all of them did, and in addition... he looked at the tangled bodies of a dozen goblins. Yes, they had slaughtered their enemies.
It was at that moment that Tristane became aware of the noise behind him. Helped by his comrade, he straightened himself by wincing with pain. A ship had just docked.
On the foredeck, six people looked at the port in flames. Some were in armor, and most held bows or crossbows. Tristane understood that the flight of projectiles that had put the goblins to flight came from the merchant ship. In the front, a very young woman dressed in leather armor worn over a long white and blue dress, a teenager whose beauty made him forget for a moment the pain of his severed arm.
She went bare-headed except for a tiara made of gold scales interlaced with a ruby in the center of the forehead. Her hair was neatly knotted into two mats that fell on either side of the face shimmering in the setting sun of an intermediate color between blond and red. Her delicate face was very pale, with a small mouth, and a narrow chin. She had pointed ears that designated her as an elf. But Tristane especially noted her eyes as bright as jewels. They roamed the whole battle scene, the goblins' corpses, the guard killed... and himself, stopping on his wound.
As she descended the landing ramp deployed by the crew, Tristane could not help but speak.
"Who... who are you? Return to your ship... the goblins have invaded the port."
The teenager nodded seriously as she replied:
"How did they cross the walls?"
"I... don't know. We didn't get any alarms... but you can't stay here, damsel."
The teenage girl took his severed arm on the floor with one hand and clasped it to his wound. Simultaneously, the young woman raised the other hand.
"Cure Serious Wound!"
Confused, Tristane Gaerwyth saw a blue light around his wound, and... his injured arm reattached to the wound!
The elf woman turned to Tristane:
"I am Altiria Siina Verteil, a humble priestess."
From the buckler attached to her back, the young elf brandishes a steel winged mass that she brandishes in the direction that the goblins had taken while fleeing.
"Pursue these vile creatures!"
The call was addressed to the other adventurers who had disembarked from the merchant ship.
But only a ranger in chainmail, with a bastard sword, a heater shield, and a helmet of a strange blue metal replied with a simple affirmative head movement.
In the notch of his helmet, you could see two pointed ears... as Altiria was an elf... In fact, Leyen Aristeia was the young woman's bodyguard.
The additional four adventurers were none other than Miriel, Antilene, Diolaine, and Khalid.
Diolaine laid her halberd across her shoulders and sighed with boredom.
"Let them go alone... with any luck, we'll be rid of them."
Lady Fouche hated the Elves and having spent days in the same boat as them had been a test for her (inexistent) patience. She meant what she said, wishing the duo would die.
But Miriel shook her head.
"We are stuck in a besieged city, and I doubt we can leave Targos by the river... we have all seen what happened to the other ships. We need all the help we can get. Let's follow them!"
Fighters are not equal in battle.
When a warlord sends militiamen or levies to fight, he is already happy that one of them kills an opponent and survives the fight.
When the levies put on their armor for the first time, they are completely exhausted after only half an hour of wearing it. And even a veteran can only fight for ten minutes in a row! (1)
From then on, a fighter capable of killing five opponents in a battle is undoubtedly the champion of his company. A man who kills ten is cited as an example in the entire army... and a man who kills twenty is acclaimed, ennobled, and chosen as a bodyguard by a great lord.
The bulk of the fighters participating in the battle of Targos were level 1 goblins and level 1 levies... so imagine the effect of a balance breaker like Antilene Heran Fouche, a level multi-classed level 88.
Antilene rushed forward.
Using her Steeled Arm Strike Martial Art, she jumped into the middle of a group of goblins, making her Glaive dance between her hands. Swirling, striking like a thunderstorm of steel, Antilene moved with the grace of a cat, leaping, jumping on rooftops, falling behind a group of enemies to slaughter them, and starting to run towards another group.
The humanoids sneered and attacked her all at the same time, thinking they were dealing with easy prey.
What followed was too fast for normal humans to see all the movements of the confrontation... no, the massacre... the goblins literally fell cut into multiple pieces. Not one of the front-line fighters survived. The others stopped ... like chicks paralyzed by the deadly grace of the snake that had just crept into their nest.
Dozens of goblins perished immediately and panic spread among the other assailants. However, not all enemies could feel fear. The quadruped monster that slid silently behind Antilene was not one of those who gave up. Covered with thick grey fur, it was a large wolf of a kind but his mouth was huge without lips and red eyes... a Worg! These monsters were trained like wardogs and even mounts used by goblins.
The Worg jumped. It had perfectly judged its leap and would have landed on Antilene's shoulders to put its fangs in her throat. Except it rolled on the ground with a pitiful squeak... cut in the air by an arrow and a crossbow's bolt.
Antilene heran Fouche looked at the body and then turned her eyes to the thatched roof of a poor house. While Miriel put another arrow on the rope of her elven Longbow, Diolaine had put one foot in the stirrup of her heavy crossbow and turned the winch handle to rearm her weapon.
Targos was a city on two levels. The riverport was built along the Shulayen River. The rest of the city was at the top of a cliff overlooking the river.
The goblins' attack had submerged the harbor, but they had been blocked in the staircase relaying both parts of Targos... especially because a group of 6 people massacred the green skins below.
The Free Archers and militiamen of Targos, some two hundred survivors, launched a counterattack. While the bowmen fired from the top of the cliff on the goblins fighting in the streets, the infantrymen went down the stairs grouped behind a wall of shields.
Kneeling in the wet, trampled mud that fed the streets of the harbor, Leyen turned to Altiria, who was standing patiently behind him.
"Princes, this way."
With his hand, the Ranger showed the hangars east of the port. He was a man of very few words.
Having first met Leyen Aristeia three days earlier, Khalid frowned without understanding.
"What does he mean?"
Altiria Siina Verteil nodded as she looked towards the docks.
"The goblins came from this direction."
Khalid hesitated for a moment... in fact, he understood that. As he matter of fact, he wanted to ask why the ranger called the priestess 'princess". But he decided to drop the question, after all, what right did he have to ask them private questions?
Cleaning together a lighthouse filled with goblins was not exactly a high degree of complicity.
"I pass in front," said Khalid.
Which was the logical choice. Khalid was a warrior armed with a long sword but above all protected by a steel helmet, wearing a clibanion (2) armor over his chainmail and using a war-door shield. The classic 'Tank',
The cleaning of the harbor was completed where it had begun, on the pier from where they had landed. Miriel and Diolene joined Antilene. The Summoner had not used magic throughout the fight. In OOO, elves and half-elves were automatically given a box checked (out of three) in the 'Bow's Specialization' skill. Miriel had never had to train but she was a gifted archer... At the time when 'Miriel' was still a low-level character, with little MP, Haruko had gained many PX by killing goblins with a bow. So it wasn't a new tactic for her.
Besides, without using magic she was more likely to go unnoticed... Jadalbaoth seemed to have lost her trace and she wanted it to stay that way.
"The fight is over," said Diolaine Gisle Kuri.
But Antilene shook her head, pointing to a shed that the Targos' levies began to encircle cautiously.
These precautions were not exaggerated. As they looked at the men-at-arms, an arrow fired from a window crashed into the shield of a levy man, vibrating in the wood.
The thief grinned nervously.
"Forget what I said."
They approached the hangar and discovered that Altiria, Leyen, and Khalid had preceded them. The elf priestess explained to the newcomers what she had learned by questioning the head of the port.
Formerly, Targos had been a city of pirates (on the Sulayen River) and smugglers before becoming more civilized.
And precisely, the tunnels used by smugglers led to this hangar... Of course, these tunnels were closed a long time ago and only a few people familiar with the local folklore (like the port chief) remember their existence. However, it is possible that the goblins have used these tunnels after clearing the collapsed passages.
The last goblins were entrenched in the smugglers' former warehouse. They had erected a barricade of barrels and crates. As soon as Miriel and her companions approached, a rain of arrows welcomed them... Clearly, goblins still had confidence in their ability to win the battle.
It was not usual in these creatures. At best, one could call them unstable... at worst cowards. But wasn't the whole situation abnormal? Goblins were always at war with each other. Besides, goblins were considered stupid. Digging a tunnel required several weeks of preparation, it seemed too sophisticated for these creatures more accustomed to attacking head-on screaming.
As Targos' levy men advanced protected by their shields, several goblins threw glass vials at the attackers. There was an explosion of flame as they broke in contact.
Diolaine began to swear as the burned soldiers retreated into panic:
"Intense fire oil! It is a rare and expensive alchemy potion... each flask is worth two or three hundred gold coins. How can they have such expensive equipment?!"
Yet another absurdity! Antilene shook her head. For now, it was not the most important. Using Flow Acceleration and Greater Wind Stride Martial Art, she jumped into battle and quickly massacred the defenders of the doorway before entering the building.
Marcus Aquain Breval, Earl of Targos was a young man just over twenty years old. Blond with emerald eyes; His office, much more than his physical appearance, gave a good idea of who he was.
The sheltered walls left no space other than the fireplace and the location of a picture depicting the harbor. Everywhere else books and curiosities of very different origins lined up. The work table was covered by a compulsively annotated city plan. He was kept open by his sword and other books devoted to strategy. A pile of reports on parchment awaited his signature.
In a corner of the room, a mannequin served as a resting place for beautiful plate armor. And, in view of the numerous scratches that were waiting to be repaired, the baron must have participated actively in the defense of the ramparts.
Marcus Aquain Breval was a warrior, a tactician, a gifted organizer, and a scholar. The city's resistance to the onslaught of the goblin horde was largely explained by the presence of this charismatic leader.
For now, he listened to Khalid, recounting the fights in the port with his chin on his crossed hands and his elbows on his table.
"... we then liquidated the goblins still present in the caves. There, we discovered that the tunnel had collapsed."
"Not really surprising", Baron Breval said, "goblin miners are unable to do a neat job. Maybe they even neglected to support the passage."
Khalid nodded:
"That is also my conclusion, My Lord."
"Praised be the gods, without the collapse of the tunnel and your arrival Targos would have fallen. However, despite your help, adventurers, I am even more worried than yesterday. I share your analysis of the organization and equipment of goblins."
Next to Khalid, Miriel nodded.
"Yes this attack necessitates organization and intelligence, this is similar to what we have discovered..."
As Marcus Aquain Breval glanced at her, the young Summoner seemed uneasy.
"Sorry, I spoke out loud?! Diolaine could you show the lord what we found?"
The thief placed charred vellum on the table.
"A spell scroll?"
"Yes, my lord, we found it on the corpse of the goblin leader who was leading the assault on the port."
"I will have my wife analyze it."
The wife of the Lord of Targos was a Wizard. She had turned the room next to her husband's office into a study and an alchemy laboratory. And the lady spent her days making potions and studying spells.
Analyzing the burnt parchment took her only a few minutes.
"This was a teleportation spell. The spell must not have worked properly... otherwise the scroll would have disappeared completely."
"What do you mean by 'must not have worked properly' what happened to the goblins" asked Altiria.
The lady of Targos turned to the elf priestess.
"Well, when a teleport fails, people reappear at random locations. I guess only the chief and the goblins closest to him rematerialized in the port... the others can be anywhere. It even happens that they rematerialize in a wall or a rock."
Miriel nodded, understanding the situation.
Their arrival and some failures in the 'perfect' plan of the enemy leader had allowed Targos to survive the attack but... the means committed to conquering such a small town were very impressive... in fact, 'exaggerated' would be the right word.
Not only had the goblins searched and repaired the smugglers' ancient tunnels, but some 'elites' troupes had been teleported directly inside the fortified city.
During the discussion with Baron Breval, they also learned why the defenders had taken so long to react to the attack on the docks. In fact, the goblins had attacked the palisade at the same time and the fighting on the quays had not been immediately reported because of the panic and confusion that dominated the city at that time.
This was a coordinated attack or a diversion? Hard to say. In any case, they had damaged a part of the wooden wall and the worker was now busy repairing it.
One could also add to this worrying list the ambush on the river and the massacre of the mercenaries sent as reinforcements.
The attack on Targos was not an offensive of opportunity, everything had been planned weeks in advance with a well-thought-out plan, and everything was taken into account, except the unpredictable: a scroll that does not work properly, a tunnel that collapses, and the arrival of fighters who were not standard mercenaries.
(1) It must be said that if the "light" armor that equips levies and militiamen already weighs twenty kilos, the complete equipment of a professional soldier (complete chainmail with coat-of-arm, plastron, helmet, shield, broadsword) can reach 35 kilos! During re-enactments, it took ten minutes of simulated confrontation for a man to find himself out of breath. This is why the antique (and certainly medieval) armies had a system to replace the exhausted and wounded soldiers of the first ranks with those of the last ranks. A kind of waterwheel that allowed the fighters to take turns resting.
(2) Armor covering the bust and made of leather (or steel) scales attached together by laces. A variant of the scalemail armor.
