After the battle

From beginning to end, excluding the time the Half-orcs spent marching, the battle had lasted only about half an hour. Their forces collapsed remarkably quickly, leaving over a thousand bodies strewn from Allen's camp to the edge of the woods across the river.

Allen's side had paid a steep price as well. His men suffered heavy casualties, with nearly a hundred wounded and twenty-three dead. Eighteen of the dead were Rhodoks Veteran Spearman, who had defended the largest stretch of the perimeter and faced the fiercest attacks. The other five were Rhodoks Crossbowman and trained crossbowmen, killed outright by arrows on the wall before anyone could save them.

There was good news, of course. Under Jeremus's care, the wounded soldiers would soon recover. In speaking with Jeremus, Allen learned that they healed far faster than people did in the real world. He suspected that the party skills from the game-surgery, first aid, and wound treatment-had tangible effects on his army. He could not investigate it closely, and considered it another possible cheat left by his predecessor.

Given the disparity in their forces, achieving such a casualty ratio would have been cause for celebration in any world. Yet Allen felt no joy. Looking at the twenty-three young bodies laid out neatly before him, his heart felt unbearably heavy.

Allen felt that these people had died for him. Had he not summoned them, they might still have been living happily in Selenheim, rather than dying in another world, unable even to return home for burial.

Allen also understood that kindness alone could not command an army. He and Firentis had devised this plan together. The crossbowmen needed enough room to shoot, and before they could burn the enemy or launch a heavy cavalry charge, someone had to draw the attention of most of the enemy and gather them together.

Even setting all that aside, without a decoy, Allen's force of fewer than two hundred could never have fully defended a wall nearly two hundred meters long and only two meters high. If the enemy broke into the camp and opened the gate, hordes of Half-orcs would pour inside. Allen could bear those consequences even less.

Allen understood all the reasoning. He knew their deaths had been worthwhile, and that without them, even more people might have died. Yet none of that could stop the grief rising in his heart. It was like being in his twenties and knowing his parents criticized him for his own good, yet still resenting it.

Allen stood before those twenty-three bodies in a daze. Ymira returned to the camp after pursuing the enemy and recognized his vacant figure from afar. After dismounting, she walked up behind him without a word, gently hugged him from behind, and then left. She still had plenty of work to do that night.

Carl, who had just finished assigning all the work, also came to Allen's side. With the wisdom of her years, she recognized his state at a glance. Yet she was puzzled. Why would this young leader, who seemed so seasoned in war, grieve over these fallen soldiers? In all her life, such a thing had been exceedingly rare, if not entirely unheard of.

"My lord, we need to bury them. Where do you think would be suitable?"

Carl knew that this grieving young leader should have the final say.

Allen thought briefly, then said, "Bury them beside the plot where I'm planning to build the lord's longhouse. Put up a stone monument for them and carve their names on it. Ymira should have them. Then write... hmm."

After a moment's reflection, Allen continued, "Write this: In life, they were loyal soldiers, brave warriors, and people willing to give their lives for their families. Their sacrifice was noble, greater even than the value of life itself. Those who come after them will forever remember and honor them. Sign it with my name."

"Yes, my lord. I understand. I'll make the preparations at once."

Carl nodded, turned, and left.

"Carl."

Allen called her back as she was about to leave.

Carl turned around and answered, "My lord, is there anything else you need?"

Allen's voice was thick with emotion. "Take good care of their families. If they have any, I mean."

"I understand, my lord. You needn't worry about that."

With that, Carl placed a hand over Allen's chest in salute and left.

Allen drew a deep breath, found somewhere to lean against, and fell asleep. He was utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Allen was asleep, but the work of dealing with the battle's aftermath continued for a long time. Most of it was not finished until dawn, when the camp finally fell silent. Now and then, a wounded man's pained groan broke the quiet, but it did not disturb everyone's rest.

By the time Allen woke again, it was already the following afternoon. He stretched deeply, easing the aches caused by sleeping in his armor. His spirits had improved considerably, and he even found the inclination to mock himself. I really am just an ordinary man who can't come to terms with life and death. How am I supposed to lead these people and keep them alive? Then he rubbed his stomach. Yes, he was hungry.

Allen had just washed up briefly and begun wandering around in search of something to fill his stomach when Doris brought a stranger to him. His name was Otta, and he was said to be the leader of some Woodland Dwellers living nearby. They had brought gifts and said they wished to request an audience with Allen.

The phrase "request an audience" felt unfamiliar to Allen. Then he smiled in realization. He supposed he was a person of some standing now. After all, even the Eagle King had acknowledged him as a leader.

Still without any food, Allen readily agreed to Otta's request. He found somewhere to sit and waited to meet him.

In fact, the battle the previous night had attracted more than the great eagles' attention. With so many Half-orcs gathering and making such a commotion in the forest, the Woodland Dwellers nearby were bound to be alarmed.

There had been nearly two thousand Half-orcs. Even if all the Woodland Dwellers joined forces, they could not have stopped these servants of darkness from bringing utter ruin upon them.

The woodland folk had watched in terror as group after group of Half-orcs passed their hidden settlements and headed toward Allen's position.

Many villages had sent their best hunters to follow the Half-orcs' tracks and find out what they intended to do. Otta had been among them. He was both his village's leader and its finest hunter.

The previous night, Otta and the hunters from the other villages had witnessed the brutal battle firsthand. They watched Allen's men rout nearly two thousand Half-orcs and pursue them all the way to the edge of the woods. They had also seen the great eagles fly down from the Misty Mountains to help Allen and his men. They realized that a more impressive newcomer had finally arrived in the region-and he was human.

Otta had come for one reason: to learn more about this new neighbor. Would he threaten their survival? Could they establish diplomatic relations with him? Might he even be willing to offer them protection?

Most of the people living in the Misty Mountains, like Otta and his villagers, had settled on the eastern side after the Battle of Moria. Back then, the Dwarves' wrath had swept through the Half-orcs from Mount Gundabad to the Long Marshes. They stormed fortresses and strongholds, driving the Half-orcs all the way back to the gates of Moria in Dimrill Dale. The war ended in a costly victory for the Dwarves, leaving very few Half-orcs alive in the Misty Mountains. At the time, many well-equipped, courageous human fighters had come to settle there, founding numerous villages on the mountains' eastern side.

Now, however, survival in the Misty Mountains was becoming increasingly difficult. It was not that the woods lacked the resources to sustain them, but that the Half-orcs' reach kept expanding. News often came of Woodland Dwellers' villages being discovered and overrun. The dead became food for the Half-orcs and their Wargs, while the living were enslaved and forced into lives of unspeakable misery. Such tragedies had occurred repeatedly in recent years. Many inhabitants spent their days in fear, longing to leave and make a living in Mirkwood or on its eastern side. Supposedly, the land around the Running River still maintained a measure of order under the Wood-elves' protection.

Yet there were only two routes from here to the eastern side of Mirkwood. One was the Old Forest Road through Mirkwood, originally built by the Dwarves during their heyday. After the Dwarves' decline, the Wood-elves had patrolled and protected it. In recent years, however, the Wood-elves had steadily withdrawn their defensive perimeter, leaving the Old Forest Road half abandoned. Half-orc wolf riders were said to roam it frequently.

The other route was to keep heading north along Mirkwood, then pass through Dale, now effectively ruled by the evil dragon Smaug, and make a life in Lake-town. This was just as dangerous. Exposed to the Wilderland for so long, no one knew when they might attract the attention of Darkness. Neither route was a good choice.

Of course, many people had also chosen to cross the Anduin River and settle directly in Mirkwood. But giant spiders had reportedly begun appearing there recently, constantly attacking humans. That place was not safe either.

Allen's arrival and his head-on battle against the Half-orcs had given these Woodland Dwellers another choice: to seek his protection, just as Doris and the others had done. A powerful leader could give these scattered inhabitants the chance to live in peace.

Before meeting Allen, Otta had been anxious. He did not know whether this powerful leader would be willing to receive him. Once permission came, however, he was surprised by Allen's youthful face. He was merely a young man, sitting casually on a pile of timber in armor he had not yet had time to clean. The black blood covering it told of the brutal battle its wearer had endured the day before.

Allen smiled at the first woodland inhabitant to come looking for him. He knew humans lived nearby. One reason he had fought the Half-orcs head-on was to send those people a message: I'm strong. If you want a stable life, you can come to me.

Otta and Allen each had their own thoughts, but their aims were essentially converging. Both, however, proceeded cautiously. One feared that asking for protection straight away would lead to rejection; the other feared that saying, "I can protect you, come and live here," would frighten his visitor off. That made their meeting quite amusing to "me."

Otta approached Allen carefully, bowed, and said, "Greetings, my lord. I'm Otta, from a nearby village. Forgive me for disturbing you without notice. This is a small gift, a humble token of our respect. Please accept it."

He offered a small jar of honey, the only presentable gift their village possessed.

Sitting casually on the timber pile, Allen motioned for Doris to accept the gift. Smiling, he pointed to a toolbox opposite him and said, "No need to stand on ceremony. Have a seat. What can I do for you?"

Otta hesitated before sitting on the toolbox opposite Allen. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "My lord, I take it you've only recently moved here? Is there anything you need help with? There aren't many people in our village, but we could still lend a hand."

Otta dared not mention the previous night's battle. If Allen demanded to know why they had not helped despite witnessing it, he would have no way out. Nor did he want to begin by asking for protection, since he knew nothing of the young man's intentions.

Allen's thoughts raced, and he grasped Otta's meaning. Smiling, he said, "That's right. We haven't been here long. I must say, this place isn't very safe. On our first day, we wiped out a whole group of Warg Riders and rescued Doris and the others. We'd barely had two peaceful days before a large force of Half-orcs came to attack us at night. Fortunately, we have some strength of our own, and managed to drive them back. There's plenty of construction to be done now, so it would be wonderful if you could help. But..."

Here, Allen changed tack. "From what I understand, the Half-orcs in the Misty Mountains are becoming increasingly active. For your own safety, have you considered living somewhere else? This river valley, Dale, for instance? It would be more convenient if we all lived together."

Allen's words were an open invitation, and Otta clearly understood them. He had never expected things to go so smoothly.

Otta rose with delight on his face and said excitedly, "Yes, yes! You're absolutely right, my lord. Living together would certainly be safer. I'll go back and discuss it with everyone at once. It won't take long. My lord, I'll take my leave."

With that, he eagerly prepared to depart.

"Wait a moment."

Allen stopped Otta, then turned to Doris. "How can we let a friend visit without giving him something in return? Go and prepare a few barrels of beer for Otta to take back."

After thanking Allen for the gifts, Otta hurried away with his people. A great deal of work awaited him back home. There was so much to do when moving.

Watching Otta leave, Allen knew his plan had begun to bear fruit. More and more people would be willing to join him in the days ahead. His spirits gradually lifted, and he rose, humming a song as he resumed his search for food.

The people from Otta's village did not reach Allen's camp until nearly dusk. There were over twenty households, including more than thirty young adults, all hunters who could use bows, along with their families-over seventy elderly people and children. To show his welcome, Allen went in person to meet them near Carl Rock.

That evening, Allen purchased large quantities of ale and food and held what could only be called a lavish feast, celebrating the previous night's victory and welcoming the hundred-odd people from Otta's village.

Everyone attended. Allen even prepared a clean spot on Carl Rock and left plenty of fresh beef and mutton there for the great eagles. He did not know whether they would come, but he felt the feast should not be without them. It was not until the feast had continued into the early hours that many great eagles landed on Carl Rock to enjoy the gifts Allen had prepared. Everyone had a wonderful time, and for a while, the festivities even eased the grief the battle had brought them.

The great eagles who came to the feast also brought news from the Misty Mountains. No large gatherings of Half-orcs had formed there, and infighting had even broken out among them. Allen considered this good news. At least for the immediate future, there would be no further threat of war.