Bruce said, "Is Master planning a night raid? I'll lead the charge!"
Charles shook his head. "It's a night raid, and there will be two of them."
"First, select a group of elite veterans. Tonight, I'll lead the charge myself."
Bruce nodded heavily. "Yes, Master! I'll go select them right away."
Bruce began selecting elite cavalrymen, while Charles continued to look as though his mind had drifted elsewhere, all the while observing the enemy's movements.
A night raid was a technical undertaking.
It was equally damaging to both enemy and ally.
For the enemy, a night raid could cause panic, trampling, and a camp-wide mutiny.
For Charles, his troops were not yet elite enough. With poor visibility at night, there was a chance that those he led out would never make it back.
Therefore, a large-scale night raid was unrealistic. If the battle went poorly, the entire force might scatter.
But a small-scale assault still had its merits.
Bruce selected fifty elite cavalrymen.
They were all elite veterans who had participated in numerous battles.
At times, the line between veterans and recruits was obvious. Anyone who had fought, killed an enemy, and survived was a veteran.
No amount of long-term training could compare to the improvement brought by killing an enemy once.
That improvement was not merely in combat skill, but in mentality as well. Some even seemed to attain enlightenment, finding the easiest place to kill an enemy and trading small losses for great slaughter.
Deep night arrived quickly.
A bird flapped its wings through the sky.
Its eyes looked down upon the orc camp below.
The dire wolf cavalry had already returned to the camp.
There were at least seven or eight hundred orcs in this camp. The vast majority were infantry, while the wolf cavalry numbered fewer