A blonde-haired man with a bushy beard and green eyes stood on a balcony. He puffed up his chest as he observed soldiers training below. He stroked his bushy beard as he inspected how each troop swung their sword. “Lord Helmia, another settlement has been raided.” A middle-aged man, carrying a stack of papers, entered the balcony. He tried adjusting his with one hand. He sported long, elegant dark blue robes The Lord sighed and rubbed his temples. “Was it those red goblin’s again?” He asked. “Yes, but there is something more.” From the stack of papers, he took out a tattered parchment. The writing on the paper was elegant, not that of a commoner, but it was in a foreign language. The language of Troystein. Though it was not an issue for an educated noble. As Lord Helmia’s eyes read past each line, his eyes grew wider. These papers were orders. Someone from Troystein ordered those red-skinned goblins to raid their settlements. “What are your thoughts on this letter?” The Lord asked. “It could be a forgery, but I doubt it. I can't think of any reason why someone would forge orders for goblins. Even if it was some sort of elaborate ploy." Lord Helmia silently processed the information. "The handwriting is too neat for a simple mercenary or even goblin. If it was a forgery, there would have been a fake seal on it, but there isn't even one. Perhaps for secrecy?” The man waffled on. Lord Helmia stroked his beard and once more gazed at his troops. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. We must take part in this war regardless. Deploy the troops now, killing some goblins will give them experience.” “Indeed, that is a sound choice. The king himself declared war against that pretender on Troystein’s throne. We would have to join in at some point.” The advisor nodded. “The question is, who will be leading the troops? Will you send your son? Or one of the commanders?” The lord scoffed. “That son of mine doesn’t have the brawn to open one of his books, let alone to lead an army. As for the commanders... I’d rather lead the army myself.” The spectacled man shook his head. “Please reconsider, a noble cannot go into battle. What would happen to your land if you were to perish on the battlefield? The other nobles would tear it apart.” “Fine...” The lord sighed. “But I will be participating in the goblin extermination. It’ll give the men some morale.” The spectacled man nodded; it was at least a small concession. He bowed down and began to leave, he had to inform the relevant people of the army’s mobilisation. “Ah!” The lord grabbed the advisor’s shoulder. “Speaking of that boy. What is he up to now?” “He wrote something about going to claim some contested territory in another fiefdom.” The advisor pulled out a wax-sealed letter from the stack of papers. But the viscount shook his head. “That boy was born with magic but has no talent for it. Whatever, if he wants to claim land through a Rite, then so be it. Assemble the troops, we leave at dusk.” "Will I be going too, sire?" The man asked. Helmia considered for a bit. "Even if you don't have any combat skills, might as well put you to some use. I didn't hire you to be court mage so that you could reorganise my library." The entire Viscount’s castle was tossed into commotion. Yet all the chaos was soon resolved, as the troops were ready to be deployed regardless. Viscount Helmia wore a shining steel chest plate, engraved with intricate inscriptions. A well-armed battalion of 400 people stood in order. Their polished spears pointed fearlessly to the sky. Their helmets had an iron eye mask that cast an intimidating shadow on their faces. These soldiers were well-seasoned, having gone through a few battles amongst other nobility. Lord Helmia could muster more troops if needed, but he felt there was no need. It was well known that the Baron of Barkshield kept a small garrison but had a strong alchemical defence. 400 experienced soldiers would be enough, for both against a Baron and some goblins. “Alright! Brave warriors of Helmia! Tonight, we must do our part for the true successor of Troystein! We will invade the wicked Baron of Barkshield and save the land for our righteous cause!” The soldiers shouted some strange words and pounded the butts of their spears to the ground. It was their own war chant. “Good! Let’s move out.” The soldiers marched in perfect step with each other. The Lord rode at the very back on his black horse, alongside a hooded figure wielding a wooden cane with a crystal in it. The citizens waved and cheered them out. Lord Helmia puffed up his chest and waved back at his people with a great big smile. The robed wizard remained silent. Their first stop was a well-defended village. It had a stone wall and a few watchtowers, which were more than enough to stop a few goblins. They would stay the night and restock, in a town before continuing onward to Troystein. After a few days of travel, they arrived at the town at night-time. The rising smoke from the town’s direction was in sight. As they inched closer, they realised that the smoke wasn’t coming from chimneys. A silent murmur waved through the soldiers, and the Lord clutched the grip of his reigns. “How could some goblins have raided a well-defended town? Wizard, investigate this!” The middle-aged man sighed and descended from his horse. He explored the burnt town, occasionally waving their staff and muttering a chant. “Lord Helmia. I found traces of magical fire and hoof tracks.” Helmia stroked his beard. “So, you’re saying the enemy is on horseback? I didn’t expect Baron Barkshield to be able to afford cavalry...” The wizard shook their head. “Not horse hooves, but instead they are cloven.” The Noble raised his eyebrow in confusion. “Perhaps the villagers were rescuing their livestock?” “It's hard to say for certain. There are cloven tracks entering the village from the forest. Then there are more cloven tracks leaving. The attacker probably stole the villager’s livestock, but I cannot say for certain what they rode in on.” The wizard bowed down. “Right.” Lord Helmia gestured to the wizard to stand up. “Is there anything else?” The robed man cleared his throat. “All food stocks were raided, everything was stolen apart from furniture. Luckily, the inn and community hall were left untouched by the fire. We could stay there for the night.” The lord’s face soured, feeding a squad of 400 people was not easy. He was certain that the village would remain untouched, but his judgement had failed. There was enough food to last a few more days, he would have to make his men hunt. “Alright then, any traps?” The wizard shook their head. “I detected a faint magical presence somewhere underground, but nothing so great as to be a trap. Could be some buried heirloom.” Helmia nodded. “Alright then, get your bedrolls done, and find a place to sleep in. We will rest here for one night before moving on.” The well-disciplined soldiers obeyed without any qualms. A few were disgruntled by a lack of fresh food, but none would voice their concerns. The Lord rested not in a building, but in his personal war tent. A few junior soldiers acted as his temporary servants. After the soldiers dined on rations, they went to bed and fell asleep. An ear-splitting bang shook the ground, and a blinding red jet of flame shot up into the air. The large wooden hall housing the sleeping soldiers ignited and burst into flames. Burning men screamed in agony. The Lord shot up from his bed and ran to the fire. “Everybody, save whoever is inside.” He used the [Command] skill, to quickly get his troops in order. People began rushing to find buckets of water, throwing them onto flames. Some ran in, rescuing their comrades. The mage quickly arrived at the scene and pointed his staff to the flames. “Flood Pulse!” A ripple of water shot out of the mage’s tool. The water hissed upon hitting the soaring flames. The fire was abated enough for all the people to escape. “What are the casualties?” Lord Helmia asked. A soldier performed a quick headcount. “There were 50 men sleeping in that building. 16 men died in the flames, 22 Men are gravely injured and cannot fight, 12 men are mostly unharmed.” Although 38 men out of 400 was not a lot, the blow to their morale was enormous. No matter how tough you were, having your bed go up in flames in your sleep would leave a lasting effect. Lord Helmia kicked some loose rubble in anger. “Wizard! I thought you said it was only faint magic. How did this happen!?” He was ready to draw his sword at the mage. “This attack wasn’t of a magical nature. Perhaps there was a faint trigger mechanism, but it seems to have been caused by a sort of oil.” “What makes you say that?” Helmia eased the grip of his sword, but still remained cautious. “There is a faint smell of oil in the air, and there is some fire that’s burning on residue.” He showed a small patch of greasy substance on the ground being lit. The Viscount’s face burned hotter than the fire. “Is there anyone nearby?” The mage chanted a magical spell, that sent out a thin green ring in the surroundings. After a few seconds. “I am detecting a few goblinoid figures not far from here.” Helmia kicked a rubble wall, knocking it down with ease. “Then it must be true! This oil must be the Baron’s work! And he’s conspiring with goblins! This is a new low.” Lord Helmia cleared some soot and dirt from his armour. “Send the injured troops home! The rest will pursue those goblins before they can spring another trap on us!”