Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"Lance!" Rynar greeted warmly as he spotted Lance approaching to report.

"Your Majesty! The soldiers are all prepared!" Lance stepped forward, delivering his report with confidence.

"Hmm, this mission is of utmost importance. Sending you isn't just about escorting the Goblin King, Jessiava. It's also a chance to establish contact with Gondor's current steward — Turgon! 

We can't fight alone. The northern forces are still too weak. We need allies like Gondor and Rohan," Rynar said, his tone serious but firm. 

"Rohan can wait for now. Their king is a fool and ineffective. As long as we can secure a relationship with Gondor's steward, the northern front can be stabilized. 

Without Gondor's support, Mordor's legions could easily trample all the realms around the Lonely Mountain.

We must let Gondor know that there are still those in the North fighting alongside them!"

Despite the grandeur of his words, Rynar's face revealed a hint of bitterness. 

While his 2,000-strong force in Riverguard seemed imposing, it paled in comparison to the tens of thousands of orcs at Mordor's command. 

And that wasn't even considering the Easterlings, who hadn't yet appeared on the battlefield. Two thousand soldiers were sufficient to hold Riverguard, but open-field battles? 

Victory was far from certain.

"I understand, Your Majesty!" Lance's mind quickly processed the situation. 

As a noble of Zaltarion, he had a keen sense of political strategy. Among all of Rynar's subordinates, he was perhaps the only one who truly grasped the intricacies of nobility.

"I'll write a letter to Gondor's steward later. Make sure it reaches him directly. If he's as wise as I believe him to be, he'll know what to do," Rynar said with a faint smile. 

He had faith in Turgon, who was remembered in his past-life memories as a wise regent. 

But in a world filled with magic and sorcery, where bodies and even souls could be controlled, he had to be cautious.

"Understood, Your Majesty! Should I bring any gifts for them?" Lance asked carefully.

"Of course! Take some scrolls with you!" Rynar pondered for a moment before making the decision. 

Truthfully, he didn't have much that would impress Gondor. He briefly considered sending a gryphon hatchling but dismissed the idea. That would be too extravagant.

In the end, magic scrolls were the most practical choice. 

Thanks to the presence of wise sages in his court, these scrolls could be mass-produced as long as there was sufficient time and materials. They were valuable without being overly costly.

"No problem! I'll start preparing immediately!" Dylan bowed deeply to Rynar before activating his Blink skill, vanishing from sight and reappearing repeatedly as he moved through the camp.

"Lord, what's on your mind?" Caslow asked, noticing the thoughtful, slightly worried look on Rynar's face.

"Oh, I was just thinking... This open plain… If the Easterlings attack, it'll be difficult to spot them in advance. 

Don't forget that the Tupet Centaur Tribe only guards the forests. It's entirely possible for the Easterlings to bypass them," Rynar muttered, cutting himself short. 

There was no need to finish that thought. Anyone with a brain could imagine the grim scene — Zaltarion's farmers and laborers facing a fully armed Easterling raiding force.

"Ugh, our manpower is too limited. We can only increase the number of scouts and patrols," Reynard said with a helpless shrug. 

After all, no matter how skilled a housewife is, she can't cook without ingredients.

Covering the vast Zaltarion Plains with just 2,000 soldiers was a nearly impossible task. Monitoring an area within 50 miles of Riverguard was already pushing their limits.

"For now, it's the best we can do. Zaltarion wasn't built in a day. As long as we take it step-by-step, we'll be fine," Lance reassured them, sensing the tense mood.

"Indeed! We have so many loyal citizens with us!"

"They won't conquer Zaltarion!"

The soldiers and officers around him echoed Lance's words, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

 Victories come one bite at a time, and with more and more imperial citizens seeking refuge in Riverguard, it was only a matter of time before the glory of the Zaltarion Empire illuminated the entire River Running.

"Have you planned your route yet?" Rynar asked as he turned to Lance, eyes filled with expectation. 

After all, Lance was the mission leader. An old saying lingered in his mind — A single incompetent general can doom an entire army. He didn't want Lance to be that "general."

"Yes, Your Majesty. My plan is to cross through Mirkwood as quickly as possible and head west toward the Anduin River. 

Once there, we'll sail downriver directly to Gondor," Lance explained, using a stick to draw his route on the ground.

"Hmm, that's a reasonable approach. But have you thought about how you'll cross Mirkwood? And where will you get the boats to cross the Anduin?" 

Rynar questioned him, pushing for more detail. This was both an inquiry and a test.

"We can pass through the Woodland Realm. Taking the Old Forest Road is too dangerous now," Lance replied, shaking his head.

"Why not use the Old Forest Road? It's faster and more direct," Rynar asked deliberately.

"Because I don't want to be monster food," Lance retorted with a roll of his eyes.

"As long as you're confident, I trust you. This mission is a long journey. Be careful along the way. 

You bear the responsibility of connecting with the southern kingdoms. 

The rise of the Zaltarion Kingdom begins with this mission!" Rynar gripped Lance's shoulder firmly and spoke with conviction.

"Don't worry, Your Majesty! I won't fail you! I will bring back good news!" Lance declared with determination.

"I know you will. Take the soldiers back to rest. You'll set off at dawn." Rynar gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

"As you command, Your Majesty!"

"So, Lance is really leaving?" Caslow sighed.

"Yeah… He's our administrative officer. I'm going to miss him," Reynard said sincerely. 

He and Lance had a good relationship. 

Whenever Lance needed to organize military operations, he had to coordinate with Reynard, who oversaw troop movements and commands within Riverguard. 

Over time, they had grown close.

"Even the goblins have a king now… So, when are the Prairie Elves going to build their own kingdom?" Vanervi muttered just loud enough for Rynar to hear.

Rynar's face flushed red with embarrassment. 

He'd once boasted that he'd help Vanervi become king of the Prairie Elves. But as time went on, he'd been so busy fortifying Riverguard that he never brought it up again.

"Stop mumbling! I always keep my promises. If you're in a rush, I can secure a portion of Mirkwood right now for the Prairie Elves to claim as their own!" Rynar said, locking eyes with Vanervi. 

The debt he owed the Prairie Elves for their aid in battle was one he could not ignore. Trading land for that debt was a fair exchange in his mind.

"Forget it. We'll stay here for now. Free meals and shelter aren't so bad. If we set out to build a kingdom, we'd have to bring supplies — which we don't have," Vanervi replied with a sigh.

As a small tribe, the Prairie Elves didn't have much in the way of stored goods.

"…" Rynar's enthusiasm waned at the realization that they were freeloaders.

"Alright, I'm heading back. You do you, Your Majesty." Vanervi clasped his hands behind his back, whistled a merry tune, and strolled off.

"May their journey be safe," Rynar muttered as he glanced back at the carefree Vanervi. 

His heart, however, remained heavy with concern for Lance and the soldiers about to embark on a perilous mission.

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