"It is the smallest of details that make a plan succeed or fail.
"From ensuring a messenger you have sent to an enemy on purpose had blood on him to make him believable to having an enemy flair gun to give out false signals."
"Every little detail is important."
"One must learn to look for such details for it is these overlooked details that allow one to figure out an enemy's plan or find even a whiff of suspicion which can allow you to survive…."
"Or turn it on an enemy to thrive."
Reginald Coulan, creator and head of House Aurellion in Dynasties Online.
…..
Orcs marched groggily across the steppe, a few even stumbling here and there due to having to gather up, march and fight again so soon after they had just finished a big battle as they were hoping to catch up on some much-needed sleep which, due to the night raid conducted by the Chavarains the previous night leading to few of them getting the sleep they needed.
Most of them had pushed themselves hard to be able to fight effectively during the battle fought throughout the day, using the small amount of time free time that they weren't fighting to both rest, eat up and relax. Despite a few dissatisfied groans, all of them quickly responded to the call to arms from their tyrannical, increasingly demanding general.
Despite being tired himself, Wurgoth stifled a yawn as even if it had only been about 3-4 hours in real life, his mind was still experiencing every hour in Dynasties Online as if it were real-time, essentially allowing someone to have about 12 lifetimes worth of experience in this new virtual world due to the 12-1 in-game to real life time difference, this would also add to its appeal as those with an excess of money who will try to have more experiences by spending time in the game.
This mental fatigue was somehow realistically simulated in the game, meaning that even though a day in DO was only 2 hours in real life, a person would still need to sleep in the game as they would in real life, meaning that players like NPCs must rest negating any advantages a player could get from staying up multiple days at once with little effect on themselves or their minds.
As the orc army got closer to the Plurian camp, its campfire's bright light acted like a beacon for the orcs who were skulking in the shadows, using the night to uncharacteristically sneak up on their enemies with Wurgoth quietly putting them into strategic positions.
Wurgoth then began his plan, and Mulush, alongside a few hundred of the orc's best fighters, walked brazenly in front of the camp, their shadows first being picked up by the vigilant sentries who did not dare even when tired to be complacent after having to deal with the Chavarian raid the previous night.
Seeing that it was orcs, the sentries in the makeshift wooden tower, which overlooked one of the 4 main ways into the camp, relaxed and lowered their crossbows, hailing the orcs whom they perceived as their allies.
"May I ask your name sir, and why you have come."
The sentry asked in a relaxed manner to be as polite as he could to avoid friction between the two allies.
"Mulush, vice general of the Otuian army and their second in command, I have come under the instruction of General Wurgoth to discuss some things with your general Bardornus over tomorrow's deployment against the Chavarians."
"Please wait for a moment. The General is currently resting; ill pass on your message as soon as possible.
The sentry said and quickly asked his superior, who then reported to the Plurian command tent that they had a visitor.
Hearing that they would have to wait on the cold steppe, Mulush asked them something else.
"Do you mind if we enter your camp? It is quite cold out here."
Mulush asked, leading his men into the camp. Once the sentry saw nothing wrong with the request Mulush quickly entered the camp and went to a campfire, then began to ask some of the men who were still awake and had not taken part in the fighting about the camp and its layout under the pretence of learning the way they do things as an ally to improve themselves and their way of doing things.
In the Plurian command tent, Bardornus was sitting on a chair when he heard that Mulush wanted an audience with him finding it a bit weird that, unlike all the other times that he communicated with Wurgoth, the orc general had come in person, but this time he sent a message or wanted to have a conversation with him through his second in command.
His instincts, trained from years of war, screamed at him to be careful, so he quickly had one of the knights guarding the tent come in and whispered something quietly into the man's ear, getting a nod from the knight who promptly left the tent.
'I hope I'm just being paranoid.'
Bardornus thought to himself while ordering the small team of ten knights, each a veteran of many battles, to summon Mulush into the command tent to meet him because while his instinct sensed something wrong, there were no obvious signs that anything was wrong. This small team of knights always guarded his tent to help prevent assassinations and provide security for suspicious meetings like this one. Resting a hand over the glaive which lay against his body, the Plurian general took solace in feeling the familiar polearm against the hardened, rough skin battered from years of battles and war.
Mulush was making merry with the Plurian heavy infantry who went to guard the allied armies' provisions while the battle during the day raged on when he was called over to the command tent and looked over to some of the muscled orc killers accompanying him receiving a nod from them while he took a small contingent of 20 men to accompany him to the command tent.
The other orcs silently made their way towards one of the camp entrances, somehow managing to suppress the killing intent which struggled to exude from their bodies as they moved towards the same entrance that they entered from.
As Mulush approached the command tent, he noticed the dark, suspicious gazes of the knights guarding Bardornus' tent, only making him more confident in the action that he was about to take.
'Seems Wurgoth is right. If the Plurians had not betrayed us, they would not be so suspicious of us to have us stand outside.'
The orc vice general thought unaware that the mere fact that he was the one who wanted to talk to Bardornus instead of Wurgoth, was suspicious in the eyes of the Plurians.
"Your men will have to wait here."
A Plurian knight said coldly, forcing the orcs accompanying Mulush to remain away from the command tent, the man's hand tightly gripping the handle of the steel sword that hung from his waist. The orcs who had accompanied Mulush also readied themselves for combat, each holding the handles of their own crude axes, cleavers and machetes ready to attack on Mulush's orders.
Mulush sighed before looking back at the orc, his eyes signalling them to wait as each understood the role that they would play in the upcoming bloodbath.
"Happy?"
Mulush asked, faint traces of anger present in the orc's voice, making it clear that he would not accept any sort of disarmament; deciding that if any of the knights tried to take his weapons, then in a blink of an eye, the unlucky knight would become a bloody corpse on the ground.
'Not that it would make much difference in the time of his death.'
Mulush thought viciously, disregarding the knights around him before confidently walking into the Plurian command tent. Upon entering, he was surprised to see that Bardornus was calmly waiting for him in full armour, softly stroking the shaft of his glaive.
"What is Wurgoth's message for me?"
Bardornus asked, his instincts still sensing something off.
"It's very simple, General Bardornus…."
"Why did you betray us?"
"How did the Chavarians buy your loyalty?
Mulush said, bursting out suddenly with a raging killing intent making everyone outside of the tent feel cold as he swiftly swung his battleaxe down on an unsurprised calm Bardornus, the man's eyes showing a calm, almost transcendental wisdom in them who just blocked the strike with his curved steel glaive as a commotion began outside the tent the shouts and cries of death even making it into the tent that had become a blur of metal striking metal due to the speed of the fight between Bardornus and Mulush.
"ENEMY ATTA-AHHHHH."
"Don't let them get to the general!"
The knights who were guarding Bardornus were surprised at the sudden attack and were quickly taken down by the orcs; a few were able to get their swords out and resist but were soon overwhelmed by the number of the orcs falling to their iron weapons which found gaps in their steel plate many dying due to having their neck sliced though a few orcs still died under the blades of the skilled knights. One must remember that the orcs that Mulush brought had already outnumbered the Plurian knights guarding Bardornus' tent by 2-1, combined with a surprise attack, led to the Plurians falling apart in a matter of seconds.
The other orcs in the camp had also taken the Plurians by surprise, taking one of the camp's entrances, an orc waving a torch to the army of orcs waiting outside from one of the watchtowers as blood dripped from the wooden floorboards onto the ground below, flowing from the back of the dead sentry who was cut down by the bloodthirsty orcs.
Scattered yellow dots then formed to create a fiery wave descending on the Plurian camp as the orcs lighted torches as they charged towards the unsuspecting Plurians charging through the gates and making quick work of the small pockets of resistance that popped up from soldiers waking up. Others, especially those who were closer to the edges of the camp, woke up to burning tents with their clothes and flesh catching fire as they ran around becoming human torches, trying to find water before the fire burned them to death, leading to many Plurians wavering until a calm voice that they all remembered boomed out and a group of 1000 men came into view cutting down the few blood-crazed orcs who tried to kill them calmly forming a shield-wall and working together to deal with their new enemies.
"Don't give up! Work together to survive this onslaught."
The voice said getting many of the soldiers to call out to him becoming their ray of hope in the darkness.
"Vice General Sindar!"
"Vice General!"
Many called out, taking heart in the arrival of the Plurian infantry general, unlike Alric, whom Sorrell slew in the night battle and Alden, who helped Bardornus in the battle during the day, getting severely wounded him and his friend Vice General Atharid were left in command of the Plurian infantry and crossbows which did not take part in the main and were instead left to defend the Allied armies supplies being the best trained and equipped to deal with the Chavarain cavalry who may have tried to raid them and destroy what remained of their supplies.
Sindar Singefeild, Count of Fyrefeild, Lord of Firehall, the ancestral seat of his family, had pauldrons in the form of fireballs, his armour a fiery orange like his temper and straightforward personality, and coldly looked over the burning camp, being told only a few minutes ago to start gathering some men as Bardornus felt something was off.
Due to time constraints, the young 25-year-old nobleman had only managed to rally his 1000 personal soldiers, who make up 1/5 of the Plurian infantry, the Flameguard veteran soldiers loyal to his family known for being steadfast and near unbreakable, alongside being able to attack ferociously.
Like with Archtorius and even Lindorus, it was not rare for lords to take soldiers loyal to them to battle, even if they commanded the kingdom's troops as they felt a similarity with them and a unique bond of trust which was not present with soldiers that had sworn loyalty to the royal family or kingdom. It also helped to bolster the forces of armies in which they are present, so in times of emergency or when a kingdom is low on soldiers, it is not uncommon for entire armies to be made out of these troops and armies loyal to individual lords or groups of them.
"Flameguard, start pushing towards the general's tent! We must protect him!"
"SHEILDWALL!"
Sindar shouted, putting himself into the centre of the shield wall, his noble houses heraldry of 3 fireballs flying on a field of black made his shield blend alongside that of his men into the dark night if it were not for his crimson armour polished to reflect light shining like a red beacon for the Plurian soldiers then his black surcoat that covered his armour would help to turn his men into shadows. The young nobleman's black banner flew behind the formation he made, helping to rally the men who now knew their commander had not abandoned that and began to fight back furiously, regaining their strength and morale.
Slowly the Plurians pushed forward the orcs who had begun to charge into the camp, turning it into a bloody hell with both human and orc littering the ground as orcs savagely cut down the Plurians, many grabbing what weapons they could before charging out to subdue their attackers. Those who tried to break the shield wall were doomed to failure, their green-skinned bodies adding to those that formed a small path behind the Flameguard, the bloodied evidence of the Plurian's soldiers passing.
While outside the Plurian command tent, tents burnt, and living beings died; inside the tent, after exchanging a few blows with each other, both orc and man looked at one another, the fight stopping temporarily. At the feet of Bardornus were the corpses of 20 odd orcs, the ones that had survived fighting Barodrnus knights outside the tent and joined their vice general in fighting the Plurian general. One by one, they were cut down, but not before 1 orc managed to distract Bardornus enough for Mulush's axe to cut into the Plurian general's stomach, blood dripping steadily from the ageing general.
"Why do you think I have betrayed you?"
Bardornus asked, realising that this unfortunate altercation must be the result of one of Lucius' schemes as he had most certainly not betrayed the orcs; so the only other possibility is that somehow the Chavarians had convinced the orcs that they had betrayed them. As a result, they turned to attack their ally, who would not be expecting such an attack before turning to deal with the Chavarians.
Outside, Bardornus could hear a great battle being fought with hundreds of living beings dying, lowering the allied armies' already depleted strength. He could already imagine Lucius laughing at them fighting each other while he watched, manipulating them like puppets on a string.
"We got a letter delivered to us by Gerindin with the Chavarians offering you excellent terms, including court positions and vassal king status to your king under the new 'emperor', so Wurgoth assumed that you cared most about your kingdom, its citizens and the royal family would accept such an offer this alongside your suspicious movements convinced our general that you had betrayed us."
Bardornus could not fault their logic as it was likely that he would accept such an offer if it were presented to him! Unfortunately, only he knew that this was a fake offer made to incite them to attack each other, and once that is done, enough resentment would hopefully be built up for the Plurians and Otuians to destroy each other without the Chavarians needing to move a finger.
'A most vicious scheme indeed.'
Bardornus commented in his head impressed by the intricacy of the scheme woven by Lucius.
Seeing that Bardornus was silent, Mulush continued his attack, the orc barraging Bardornus, who was still tired from the battle in the day and had just recovered from attacks noticing the Plurian general's fighting was getting worse and worse as time went on as he lost more and more blood.
Knowing that continuing this would only lead to both their deaths, Bardornus continued to try and get through to the orcish general.
"Are you sure that Lucius even has the authority to make such an offer?"
Mulush then stopped for a moment, thinking, but unfortunately, it was the direct Mulush, not the intelligent Zugbu or Wurgoth, their general here, who would be more inclined to listen, so he just continued fighting. This was because in the entirety of the orcish army, except for a particular orc general who acted as Wurgoths bodyguard, no one else had the fighting capabilities to go against Bardornus and, assuming that he was already an enemy, sent Mulush to assassinate him in an attempt to break the Plurian morale so they would flee and lower the casualties that the orcs would have to endure.
Bardornus sighed cursing the orc's lack of political instinct and barely blocked the large battleaxe that was only a few centimetres from his face, the arms holding the stout shaft of his glaive shaking slightly under the great strength of the large orc.
"Think about it for a second if I had allied with the Chavarians, would they not come and help me? Surely I would at least send a messenger or some signal to solicit their help, no?"
"Is it not suspicious that I have not done that? Surely you don't want to be taken in by the Chavarains scheme?"
The Plurian general continued to implore this seemed to work as the gears turned furiously in the orc's head, who felt a cold wind come into the tent, the flap wide open, but then he heard the pop and explosion of a flair appear from outside the camp and looked at the colour and design recognising it to be of Plurian make.
'Fuck, he has really put in too much effort to make this work!'
Bardornus cursed in his head, cursing Lucius more for thinking of the smallest of details to make sure that his plan went off without a hitch as he had almost persuaded the orc to stop the battle. Unfortunately, his last hope at stopping their internal conflict was foiled by his Chavarian opponent, and he noticed the cold, ruthless glint that now filled the orc vice general's eyes, who only sneered at him enraged.
"A flair like that, then? Good, very good, you almost had me there, you humans and your trickery!"
"DIE TRAITOR!"