Kobolds as cannon fodder

“Impossible!” Rex refused flatly.

What a joke. Hand over this shipment? These goods were Rex's lifeblood. The gold needed to maintain the Knights of the Round Table all had to come from them.

The shipment itself was worth nearly ten thousand gold coins. Once he transported it back to Gilneas, Rex could earn a profit of over three thousand gold coins. With margins that high, just a few trips a year would bring in more than ten thousand gold coins, more than enough to support the thousand-strong Knights of the Round Table.

“Don't hand it over? Then die.” The orc, whose face showed no hint of ferocity, wasted no more words. He exuded an intense air of bloodlust, and his earlier threat seemed little more than a formality. Hearing Rex's refusal, he showed no disappointment. Instead, a flicker of excitement crossed his face. He waved, raised his weapon high, and roared, “Brothers, charge!”

There was little finesse to this battle. The two sides encountered each other, the orc spoke, and Rex answered. Negotiations broke down, and the motley army of different races under the orc's command surged forward, charging straight at Rex's caravan.

"Ready!"

"Aim!"

"Fire!"

The crisp commands came from Rona. Young as she was, she showed no panic when faced with an actual battle. Her exceptional composure reflected the Crowley Family's excellent upbringing. No, in the terms of this world, she truly lived up to the noble Crowley Family blood flowing through her veins.

Bang, bang, bang! A succession of shots rang out from the muskets of Rona and the soldiers under her command in the Musketeer Guard.

When Rex and Ulysses sounded the alarm, the caravan's wagons quickly formed a circle at Rex's command, creating a simple defensive barrier. Naturally, their ability to accomplish this in so little time meant it was not their first attempt. The caravan had begun practicing before leaving Gilneas, and they had used this formation whenever they stopped to rest at night along the way. Everyone in the caravan was familiar with it. Fortunately, the orcs had not chosen a steep stretch of terrain. They were at the foot of two adjoining mountains, where the ground was broad enough for the caravan to form a circle.

Muskets were common weapons in Azeroth, with the Dwarf Rifleman being their most famous wielder. Compared to training archers, training musketeers was much simpler, and they became combat-ready much sooner. In short, training took less time and produced fighting strength quickly. Yet muskets had their shortcomings compared with traditional bows: their attacks were somewhat weaker. In a world without supernatural powers, bows would be rendered obsolete, and firearms would reign supreme. In a supernatural world, however, many skills could not be used through a musket. Even something as basic as Frostbolt was beyond its capabilities.

As the muskets fired, the kobolds racing at the front kept falling to the ground, shot dead. Azeroth had no shortage of clever minds, and the musketeers' formation was simple. The forty-odd musketeers stood in two rows, taking turns stepping forward to fire. These muskets were single-shot weapons that had to be reloaded by hand after every shot, creating long gaps between attacks and a slow rate of fire. Their penetrating power, however, was immense. They were designed entirely for power. A shot to the chest meant certain death for anyone below the Seventh Tier.

Rex frowned as he studied this sudden ambush. The attack was truly strange. If this motley army had prepared an ambush beforehand, why had they not hidden on a steep slope and simply pushed huge boulders down on them? Rex had often seen that classic scene on television, and it was devastatingly effective. Though he had quite a few men, his entire force would surely have been wiped out.

To Rex, this attack seemed hastily arranged, as though the enemy had hurried after them. Something was wrong. After a long while, he sighed. The muskets were powerful and inflicted terrible casualties, but all those killed were kobolds. The orcs also knew that charging into ranged fire would cost them dearly, so their arrangement was simple: gather a batch of cannon fodder and send them to their deaths to cover the army charging behind them.

Kobolds were creatures that lived in underground tunnels. Short and filthy, they walked around with burning candles on their heads to cope with the darkness. Their fighting strength was pitiful; they could only bully the equally diminutive Gnomes. Races such as humans and Dwarves could practically disregard kobolds in combat. Though Dwarves were not much taller than Gnomes, the valor of their warriors was renowned throughout the world. Short as they were, ordinary human warriors could hardly beat them, and kobolds naturally did not dare provoke them.

Rex picked up his Greatsword, surging holy light pouring forth, and shouted, “For Gilneas! Kill!”

“For Gilneas!” The other members of the Knights of the Round Table echoed his cry.

These troublesome kobolds. At a rough glance, there were still at least several hundred of them, even after more than two hundred had died during the charge. Rex swept his Greatsword across, knocking down the kobolds that had just climbed up. Blood flowed freely as several died at his hands. Kobolds were nothing to fear. A few hundred of them meant little to Rex. What concerned him were the dozens of orcs and the Ogres behind them.

Orcs were skilled fighters, and these had clearly survived the Second War. Tempered by the brutal fighting of those years, they were naturally formidable—the elite among elites. And what were Ogres most known for producing? Ogre Mages. One glance at those ten Ogres, with their fat blue bodies and two heads apiece, made it obvious that they were Ogre Mages. Those twin heads were Gul'dan's handiwork.

The Ogre Mages had not acted. Rex suspected they were probably wary of damaging the goods. Most Ogre Mages wielded fire magic, and a magical attack could easily set the shipment ablaze. They had staged this ambush for these goods. If they burned everything to ashes, what would have been the point of coming here?

Even so, Rex did not dare disregard them. If taking the goods became impossible, the Ogre Mages would certainly strike.

The several hundred kobolds were soon wiped out, their corpses strewn across the ground. Rex's side had suffered few losses, with only five unlucky men killed. That was because the Knights of the Round Table had yet to be tempered by bloodshed. A truly elite force holding these defenses would have suffered no losses at all. Though the kobolds had been eliminated, the danger had not passed. The true test had only just begun, because the orcs had arrived.

(End of chapter)