At first, Captain Hakon seemed like he wanted to protest the idea, but he relented without saying any actual words. He understood what was at stake. While Varre would be risking his life and the monarchy with it, it was necessary.

  The entire might of Logres was already deployed in the North. If this battle was lost, the goblins would show no mercy to any of the survivors. They’d slaughter everyone, or at best take them captive for some unknown objectives. There would be no ransom or negotiations.

  The peasants were replaceable, but the knights carried with them a lifetime worth of experience and skills. If they perished here, there’d be nothing stopping the goblins from rampaging across the rest of the country as they pleased.

  The reinforcements from allied nations wouldn’t arrive until the spring, or more likely summer. Even then, would they be willing to fight for a nation without a future? Without it’s knights, Logres would be weakened for decades. A virtually defenseless piece of land, ready for others to squabble over and divide between themselves.

  It was too late to retreat. The only way forward was to win here, at Northport, and drive the enemy away for good.

  Of course, if the victory cost Varre his life, the kingdom would be embroiled in great turmoil. Without a clear heir, other successors would be forced to fight over the throne, supported by various noble houses and foreign powers, but at least there’d be hope. Logres would survive.

  No one would dare to outright invade a nation that had just beaten back such a monumental threat. The previous war against the goblins required the combined might of several different nations, so if Logres managed to pull it off by itself, the people would be declared heroes the world over. No knight would fight alongside a monarch trying to attempt to exploit this moment of weakness. It would be an outrage. A terrible dishonor. Or at least so Hakon hoped.

  Ultimately, his oath of loyalty was towards the crown. Varre just happened to currently occupy that position. The captain would never dare to scheme against his liege and he’d offer his unquestionable support in every occasion, but if the king was willing to risk his life for the good of the realm, he had to agree with that decision.

  In the ideal scenario, the monarch came out both alive and victorious. Then, all problems would be resolved in a single swoop. He’d be declared the hero and receive all of the glory. Logres would only come out stronger, ready to push its enormous influence around. Every noble across the continent would be clamoring for support of such a legendary commander. Merchants would happily trade with each other, and foreign countries would scramble to sign alliances and treaties with the champions.

  Now Hakon just had to make sure it happened.

  There was little time to delay, so while Varre put on his helmet and checked his armor for the last time, the Royal Guards were already lining up. They formed a wedge, ready to pierce straight through the mass of goblins.

  The heralds and flag carriers would be left behind, but the king’s personal banner would follow him. The troops needed to know that their monarch was entering the fray, risking his life alongside them. They’d fight harder, knowing they weren’t alone.

  Each regiment was outfitted with some kind of symbol or color to help the commanders understand what was going on. They needed to tell at a glance where the troops were deployed and estimate the number of soldiers engaged.

  Even the peasant levies received flags. It helped with maintaining a certain level of cohesion among them. They just needed to remember a single symbol or color to know where to gather. If they got split up in the chaos of battle, they’d know where to go. And if they got lost while walking through the massive campsite set up each night, they could find their way back just as easily.

  The banner of the kingdom itself had been sent with the halberdiers, as they represented the king’s personal forces. They were doing a good job of defending it, keeping it at the back of their formation. The goblins would need to completely break through their lines to reach it. So far, that seemed unlikely.

  Though it would make for a great second target in case the archers decided to flee. Fortunately, they were standing their ground. They’d noticed the approaching threat quickly and turned around to deal with it. The men felt uncertain about turning their backs to the melee happening behind them, but had to trust that the levies could hold the line.

  This new group of goblins was purely made up of melee fighters, each carrying their signature shield. Arrows would have a limited effect, but it was the perfect chance for the wizards to show off their prowess.

  Kadmos glanced up on the hill, smirking when he saw the royal entourage begin to move. Good, he thought to himself, Varre’s finally decided to show his face. I’m glad he’s taking this seriously, but if he thinks a couple thousand lousy goblins is enough to threaten the might of the Logres Mage Guild… he’s going to see that we’re not to be underestimated.

  As the bowmen make ready to release their volley, the archmage called for all of his people to move closer together. “Prepare your best areal attacks,” he ordered, raising his hand in the air, “fire on my mark.”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  He waited for everyone to get in position and glanced towards the hill. From his perspective, the battle was going well so far. The soldiers were engaged all around the front and his wizards dealt considerable casualties to the enemy. They should be able to plug any gaps that happened to form by pumping it full with aura and explosions.

  Now, the most important part was to create a good show for the monarch. Once the king saw the raw power displayed by the guild, he would have to start treating Kadmos with a newfound sense of respect. No more messing around with commoners. Now, all of the funding, land grants, and support would go straight to him. At best, these new recruits could serve as convenient assistants.

  Things got a little hairy when word of goblins first got out, but fortunately Logres responded appropriately to the threat. The enemy was on the backfoot now. They didn’t even manage to pillage through a wasteland like the Duchy of Wantage. Soon their forces would be destroyed and the last remaining vestiges driven away, never to return.

  The archmage hadn’t even begun to think about the prestige he’d earn on the international stage. The best researchers and sorcerers would all clamor to join his organization now. It would be a new golden age, with his successors singing his name for centuries to come.

  Kadmos grinned as he watched the goblins quickly marching forward. They were almost in range and the archers were shuffling around, eager to open fire. It was time to begin the show. With any luck, they’d mop up all of these remains before Varre even got here. The king would arrive just in time to congratulate the wizards on efficiently dealing with the threat.

  As a final treat, this horde of goblins was even led by their shaman. The archmage had only seen it once, but he’d recognize the creature anywhere. Its staff was an affront to magic itself. How dare that thing mess around with matters beyond its stature. How dare it meddle with affairs as dangerous as teleportation. It had to be destroyed.

  As much as he’d like to ask the shaman some questions, he knew that was just wishful thinking. There could be no talking to monsters. A pity, in case the creature actually held some valuable knowledge, but he’d just have to investigate the staff for himself. Perhaps it would shed some light on the strange residuals discovered in the cave.

  After making sure that Varre kept his eyes peeled on the situation, Kadmos finally gave the order to fire. Forty odd wizards released their attacks all at once. Mostly powerful explosions, but a few threw in some personal flair, with dazzling balls of electricity, or colorful sprays of acid flying hundreds of feet through the air.

  The archmage watched the projectiles with a proud expression, then turned his gaze downwards to observe the effect. The shaman yelled something out and the goblins continued marching at the same pace. They weren’t even raising their shields. Perhaps they realized the futility of it.

  Then, their leader waved his staff in a wide arc. A massive smudge appeared in the air, as if painted across a canvas. It was pitch black, reflecting no light yet hanging still in the air as if unaffected by gravity.

  It was large enough to block all of the incoming projectiles and attacks. Most likely a shield of some kind, though would it have the strength to block each and every spell?

  Unfortunately Kadmos wouldn’t get to find out, as instead of exploding on impact as most attacks tended to do, they simply flew into the blotch as if passing through empty space. Yet they did not come out on the other side. There was no effect. No damage. The smudge simply hung in the air, ready to intercept the coming rain of arrows next.

  It wasn’t quite large enough for that, so while the shaman and a few of the front rows took cover behind the unusual cover, the rest of the soldiers had to raise their shields. The arrows banged on their shields, like rain hitting a tiled roof. Then the goblins continued, as if nothing had happened.

  “What the hell is that?” Zarkon yelled out, finally getting Kadmos out of his stupor.

  “I… I have no idea,” the archmage admitted, mostly confused by the strange phenomena. Yet another mysterious goblin trick. It’d have to be carefully investigated later.

  “Is it dangerous?” Perry asked, before Kadmos’ thoughts could trail off too far.

  “I don’t know. But I don’t want to find out! Keep going!” Jury replied, preparing another attack in her hand.

  The twins had collected all of the magical tools after investigating the ruins, but decided that their talents could be better suited for supporting Zarkon in the field, rather than returning straight to Elvira. At least they could see some action here.

  The other mages agreed with their sentiment and decided that this mystery could be resolved later. They returned to launching their attacks. Instead of concentrating them in a single massive salvo, they threw them haphazardly, staggering their rhythm and making it harder to predict.

  Most of the time, the shaman was able to create another blotch, blocking the attacks from ever reaching their target. Only a few lucky ones got through, typically those aiming at the sides of the formation, perhaps away from the leader’s vision or reach.

  “By the gods!” Jan pointed to the strange blotches with his lance, screaming over the beating sound of wind and hooves, “what do we do about that madness?”

  “I don’t know,” Varre replied, “Elvira?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admitted.

  “Is it dangerous?” the king insisted.

  “It could be? It seems like it’s absorbing the spells. I can’t even imagine what it would do to a human,” the Court Mage yelled.

  “Well it doesn’t seem like he’s attacking anyone,” the duke noted.

  Elvira squinted her eyes, trying to get a better look at the scene. While she was going to join the battle alongside the two men, she was a wizard. She had no plan of engaging in melee combat and did not feel the need to wear a helmet like them. She’d keep her distance and support with magic alone.

  “Maybe he’s busy defending,” she suggested, “or it has short range. I have no idea!”

  “I don’t like this,” Jan spat out.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Varre replied, “we cannot turn back now! Hit them!”

  One of the riders beside him pulled out a horn and blew into it. A loud sound rang out reminding the archers that help was about to reach them. As the cavalry approached, the horses picked up speed, building up more power and velocity for the actual collision with the enemies.

  The goblins could have turned around and prepared to meet the charge of Royal Guards, but instead decided to focus on dealing as much damage as possible to the vulnerable ranged troops. They charged forward, shielded by the strange black blotches in the air.

  They were going to reach the humans first, so many of the archers standing in the front rows lay down their weapons and reached for melee alternatives. Burdened by bows, these men couldn’t carry spears, but they still had axes and short swords tucked away. They weren’t going to go down without a fight. Not while their king was watching.