Charles had no worries at all about the battle on the cavalry's side.
With equal numbers, cavalry held a natural advantage.
This was not some massive battlefield with several thousand or tens of thousands of men.
What was more, among those cavalrymen was Charles's trump card: fully armored knights.
Charles could not even imagine how he might lose. At most, he would suffer some cavalry losses, but they certainly would not be heavy.
Meanwhile, he had already led five hundred infantrymen straight at the orcs' supply camp.
At least half the orc troops in the camp had been drawn away. Whether they were escorting the convoy or rescuing the infantry around it, they were relatively elite forces.
Those left behind in the camp were weaker orc soldiers.
With two hundred cavalrymen and five hundred mounted infantrymen under his command, Charles charged straight toward the camp.
The cavalrymen all held bows. As soon as they entered arrow range, they began firing at the orcs atop the stockade walls without hesitation.
Charles, meanwhile, prepared his sorcery.
A huge fireball swiftly condensed in front of him. With a casual wave of his hand, he sent it crashing toward the gates of the orc camp.
On the stockade wall, an orc officer stared at the enormous fireball in terror and shouted, "An elf sorcerer!"
"BOOM—!!"
Before his cry had even faded, he, the gates, and the surrounding stockade walls were blown straight into the sky.
The gates had been blasted open. Charles led the cavalry in a headlong charge into the camp, continuing to spread the chaos and widen their gains.
Following behind them was the infantry led by Bruce.
"Move, move, move!"
Bruce directed the infantry to dismount quickly. Then, without the slightest fear of the gate passage still radiating heat, they followed