Cold raindrops pattered against the hillside, thick with shrubs and jagged rocks, and soon gathered into winding streams.
Armored Great-horned Goats bounded and swerved along the muddy mountain path, their heads lowered beneath pairs of great horns gleaming in the rain.
The nimble beasts carried their Dwarven companions, charging fearlessly toward the Half-orcs who had already begun changing formation as the Dwarves roared.
Leaping and running through the mountains was how these Great-horned Sheep survived. Even on steeper, more treacherous slopes, they could move as though across level ground. It was a survival instinct etched into their bones.
By comparison, the horses, accustomed to galloping across plains, fared poorly. Channels carved by the rain and stones that suddenly tumbled down both slowed their advance. One careless step could leave a galloping hoof without firm footing and cause a devastating injury.
So, even though Allen had chosen the gentlest terrain nearby when summoning his cavalry, Swadia Knights riding at full gallop still kept tumbling down the hillside with their horses.
Yet this did not stop the knights' advance, for Allen had given only one order: charge until every Half-orc and Troll before them had been wiped out.
Even the knights who lost their horses struggled upright in the mud, drew the Two-Handed Swords from their saddles with hands smeared in dirt and moss, and silently continued charging behind the main force.
Amid the thunder of hooves, the two cavalry forces steadily closed the distance to the Half-orcs. Moments later, both sides could make out each other's faces through the downpour.
Fear and excitement, fury and hesitation, despair and composure-all these emotions appeared on the faces of the humans, Dwarves, and Half-orcs.
"Kill them!"
Before the cavalry reached the Half-orcs, battle cries had already torn through the curtain of rain, echoing among