Finally Figured Out Where We Are

"Have you had enough to eat?" Roland asked, clapping his hands.

"I've finished, my lord," Caslo said.

"Then let's go. Hopefully, we can find a village or town today and figure out where we are..." Roland sighed.

"Yes, my lord," Caslo replied.

"My lord! We may have trouble!" Caslo suddenly seized Roland's horse by the reins.

"This is Gundabad Warg dung!" Caslo explained.

"So..." Roland's expression darkened.

"That's right. There are Orc Warg Riders nearby!"

"Damn it! Stay alert!" Roland suddenly raised his Tower Shield.

Bang! An Iron Arrow bounced off the shield.

"Caslo! Summon your dragon! Get up there! Hurry!" Roland cried.

Shadows shifted through the distant woods as Orcs rode Wargs out from between the swaying branches, followed by an unending stream of Orc infantry.

"My lord! We must have entered Orc territory!" Caslo said bitterly as he swiftly took out the Dragon Flute and began summoning the drake.

"For a knight's honor! Charge!" Battle Qi Flame surged as Roland, enveloping himself and his mount in Battle Qi, urged his armored Shire Horse toward the army of hundreds of Orcs.

Slash! Roland lopped off an Orc's ugly head with one stroke.

Thud! Roland's Tower Shield blocked the scimitar swinging at him, and he immediately thrust his sword forward. The sharp Dragon-slaying Sword easily pierced the Orc's chest.

Roar! A stirring Dragon's Roar rang out. Caslo rode the drake into the sky.

The Orc army clearly froze for a moment, allowing Roland to chop off several more heads. The next second, a wind blade several meters wide burst from the dragon's mouth, swiftly splitting into palm-length blades. More than a dozen Orc Warg Riders caught within the storm of wind blades, along with their Wargs, were shredded into minced flesh, making Roland's stomach churn.

An obscure Draconic chant sounded. The moment Roland heard it, he immediately turned his horse and ran. Seriously, who in their right mind would stay within the range of Draconic Magic?

The Windwing Drake beat its wings, instantly fanning a tornado into existence. It grew thicker and stronger as it advanced, sucking up nearly half the Orcs and tossing them hundreds of meters into the air before they rained down like raindrops...

Roar! Caslo drove the drake in pursuit of the Orcs, sending wind blades raining down from the sky to dismember those below. Roland, following beneath, could only stare blankly at the corpses along the way. He did not even have a chance to finish off the wounded, since the Orcs on the ground had either been dismembered or smashed into chunks. It was brutally cruel.

At last, the final Orc was blasted into pulp at the edge of the forest, and Caslo descended from the sky in satisfaction.

"My lord, they've all been dealt with!"

"Mm, good. Put the dragon away! Ride this!" Roland pointed to a Shire Horse nearby. It had just been rewarded by the system for the First Blood achievement.

Not a Blade of Grass Left: Completed. Successfully exterminated the Orcs without leaving a single one alive. Reward: Fully equipped Novice Knight *10.

Roland had already seen the final reward and was quite satisfied. After all, Novice Knights with extraordinary power were stronger than even the most powerful cavalry, and there were ten of them. Most importantly—they were fully equipped.

Sure enough, after summoning the ten Novice Knights, Roland immediately felt it was incredible! Every one of them rode a Shire Horse clad in three layers of barding and carried Steel Plate Armor, a Steel Cross Shield, a Steel longsword, a Steel Lance, an Ironwood Bow, and a Mithril War Mattock—specifically for breaking armor, guaranteed to crush any tin can in a single blow. They were armed to the teeth. Best of all, each had a cloak on their back bearing the Dragon Emblem from his Mithril Armor. The group of twelve looked imposing and domineering!

Five days later...

"What the hell, this is a village?" Roland thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"Yes, my lord. It is a village, though it doesn't seem very friendly toward us..." Caslo said as he looked at the shut wooden gates and the militia standing guard atop the walls. With his sharp vision, Caslo could even see their fingers already hooked around the strings of their Hunting Bows.

"Oh! God! Guys, put your weapons away. Relax!" Roland ordered.

Hearing this, everyone put away the weapons in their hands.

Roland rode toward the village gates and looked up at the villagers above.

"Um, pardon the interruption. We're only travelers. We hope to find somewhere to stay, and we can pay," Roland said sincerely.

"Is that so? Outsiders, where are you from?" an elderly villager above called out.

"Uh, I'm from an empire in the East. These people are Squires I recruited in Gondor." As he spoke, Roland removed his helmet.

Sure enough, seeing Roland's black hair and black eyes, the villagers above began discussing among themselves. After quite a while, they appeared to have reached an agreement.

"Fine, you may enter and rest. But we hope you will not fight with weapons inside the village or harass the villagers."

"As you wish. We are willing to comply," Roland quickly agreed.

Creak... The wooden gates were slowly pushed open, and Roland hurriedly called for everyone to dismount and enter. But the moment he stepped inside and looked around, Roland formed a suspicion.

Could I be in The Shire...? Roland thought to himself, because before him stood a row of little "dwarves." More precisely, they should be Halflings—or, as everyone knew them, Hobbits!

"Hello, may I ask where this is? We lost our way in the wilderness," Roland hurriedly asked, stopping someone.

After asking around, Roland confirmed that he was currently in the northernmost part of The Shire. And this was not the Middle-earth from the movies, but the world of The Lord of the Rings.

"This makes things easy. I know the map of The Lord of the Rings by heart!" Roland said, rubbing his chin.

"Oh, right. What era is it now? Caslo, go ask around."

"Yes, my lord."

"What! Third Age 2940!" Roland exclaimed in shock.

"What is it, my lord?" Caslo asked with concern.

"There's something interesting going on. I'm considering whether we should get involved." Roland was referring to the Dwarven expedition—the plot of The Hobbit.

"Thorin Oakenshield would make a decent ally. If we want to gain a foothold in this land, we still need to unite the forces we can win over," Roland muttered to himself.

Because this was a heavily altered Middle-earth, its power system had changed dramatically. Most importantly, there were no gods! Combined with the large number of spellcasters—at least far more than the original Middle-earth, which had only five wizards—no one knew how this expedition would turn out. After all, in the game, many lord players had led their forces to help Thorin and the others successfully reclaim Erebor.

"Let's go! To Hobbiton!" Roland ultimately decided to lend them a hand.