Crisis in the East

"Forward!" A hunched man stood atop a chariot. If Roland had been here, he would definitely have recognized him as Chieftain Dak Ivan of the Steel Fang Chariot Tribe!

His hunched figure faced the surging flood of chariots behind him, his eyes bloodshot! Having mobilized his entire army, he now commanded 2,000 light chariots (2 men each), 1,000 medium chariots (4 men each), and 100 heavy chariots (10 men each), for a total of 9,000 men! Though Professional Soldiers were scarce among the Chariot People, this mobile force ranked first in the entire Northern Territory.

Dakyi had been persuaded by Mordor's envoy. Devastated by the loss of his beloved daughter, he had finally found an opportunity to kick them while they were down. A sickly red light gleamed in his eyes.

"Girl, wait a little longer. Father will send them down to keep you company soon!" Dakyi's face twisted viciously.

These Chariot People crossed the Swift River northward from Dorwinian before racing west. Mordor's envoy had promised that the Orcs would tie down the Lagrange Kingdom's troop strength in the south, so Dakyi crazily sought to strike directly at the Lagrange royal capital and inflict upon every Lagrangean all that Roland had once done to his daughter.

"Commander! This is where the Swift River and the Redwater River meet!" A Lagrange City Guard pointed excitedly at the river confluence.

"I prefer to call it... Lagrange City!" The commander grabbed a fistful of soil and pressed it tightly to his chest, a glimmer of tears flashing in his eyes.

"His Highness will surely lead us back here someday!"

"That's right! We'll return!"

"Today, we have arrived here. Tomorrow, we will rebuild this place!"

The soldiers spoke over one another, their eyes burning as they gazed upon the land before them.