"Are you full?" Rynar clapped his hands and asked.
"Yes, my lord, I'm done," Caslow replied.
"Then let's go. Hopefully, we can find a village or town today and finally figure out where we are…" Rynar sighed.
"Yes, my lord," Caslow nodded.
...
"My lord! We might have a problem!" Suddenly, Caslow grabbed the reins of Rynar's horse.
"This is Gundabad warg dung!" Caslow explained grimly.
"So… what does that mean?" Rynar's face turned serious.
"It means there are Orc warg riders nearby!"
"Damn it! Be on guard!" Rynar quickly raised his tower shield.
Clang! An iron arrow ricocheted off the shield.
"Caslow! Summon your dragon! Get up there, now!" Rynar yelled in alarm.
From the shadows of the distant trees, figures emerged—Orc riders mounted on wargs, and behind them, an ever-growing wave of Orc infantry.
"My lord! I believe we've wandered into Orc territory!" Caslow said bitterly, hastily pulling out his dragon flute.
"For the honor of knights! Charge!"
With a roar, Rynar activated his battle aura, covering both himself and his horse. He charged directly at the hundreds of Orcs ahead of him.
Swoosh! With one swift slash, Rynar beheaded a grotesque Orc.
Clang!
His tower shield deflected a scimitar, and Rynar's sword swiftly thrust forward, piercing through the chest of another Orc.
Roar! A majestic dragon cry echoed. Caslow had taken to the skies on his flying dragon.
The Orc army froze momentarily, giving Rynar the chance to cut down a few more before a massive wind blade erupted from the dragon's maw, sending waves of slicing air toward the enemy.
A dozen warg riders and their mounts were shredded into bloody pieces, leaving Rynar feeling a bit queasy at the sight.
The draconic language echoed through the battlefield.
Recognizing the sound, Rynar immediately turned his horse around and bolted.
Staying within the range of a dragon spell? You'd have to be crazy!
The wind-winged dragon flapped its wings, sending out a tornado that grew larger by the second.
Half of the Orc army was sucked into the sky, only to be flung hundreds of meters into the air, falling like raindrops…
Roar!
Caslow, riding his dragon, pursued the fleeing Orcs, sending down wind blades that ripped them apart.
Rynar could only watch the carnage, barely able to find any Orcs left to finish off—most of them were already reduced to chunks of flesh.
Finally, the last Orc was obliterated at the edge of the forest. Caslow, satisfied, descended from the sky.
"My lord, it's all clear!"
"Alright, put the dragon away. You'll be riding this from now on." Rynar pointed to a nearby Shire horse, a new reward for achieving this accomplishment.
"Scorched Earth: Completed. You successfully eradicated the Orcs, leaving none alive. Reward: Ten fully equipped apprentice knights."
Rynar was quite pleased with the reward.
Apprentice knights with extraordinary powers were far superior to even the strongest regular cavalry—and he had just received ten of them, fully armed to the teeth.
When Rynar summoned the ten apprentice knights, he couldn't help but feel amazed.
Each one rode a Shire horse with three layers of armor.
They wore steel plate armor, carried steel cross shields, swords, lances, ironwood bows, and even mithril-made combat hammers—perfect for smashing through heavy armor.
To top it off, they all had cloaks with Rynar's dragon crest from his Mithril Coat. Twelve warriors in total, radiating an aura of power and prestige!
...
Five days later…
"What the heck, is this a village?" Rynar blinked in disbelief.
"Yes, my lord. It is indeed a village, but it doesn't seem too friendly towards us…"
Caslow observed the closed wooden gate and the militia posted along the walls, their hands ready on their bowstrings.
"Alright, everyone, put your weapons away and relax!" Rynar commanded.
The group immediately stowed their weapons, and Rynar rode forward towards the village gate, looking up at the villagers.
"Uh, sorry to disturb you. We're just travelers looking for a place to stay for the night. We're willing to pay," Rynar said earnestly.
"Where do you come from, stranger?" asked an older villager from above.
"Uh, I'm from the Zaltarion Empire, and these men are my retainers," Rynar replied, removing his helmet.
Seeing Rynar, the villagers started whispering among themselves. After some time, the elder returned to speak.
"Alright, you may enter and rest. But we ask that you refrain from using weapons or causing any trouble while in the village."
"As you wish. We will comply," Rynar quickly agreed.
Creak! The wooden gates slowly opened, and Rynar led the group inside. However, as soon as they entered, he was struck by a sudden realization.
"Wait… isn't this the Shire?" Rynar muttered to himself as he looked around, noticing a row of short, stout figures. More precisely, they were Hobbits!
"Excuse me, could you tell me where we are? We got lost in the wilderness," Rynar quickly stopped a passing villager to ask.
After a brief conversation, Rynar finally confirmed his suspicions. They were indeed in the northernmost part of the Shire.
And this wasn't the Middle-earth from the movies; this was the Middle-earth from Tolkien's books.
"Well, this makes things easier. I know the map of Middle-earth like the back of my hand!" Rynar said, rubbing his chin.
"Caslow, find out what year it is," Rynar ordered.
"Yes, my lord," Caslow replied.
...
"What! The year is 2940 of the Third Age?" Rynar exclaimed in shock.
"What's the matter, my lord?" Caslow asked, concerned.
"There's something very interesting happening soon, and I'm thinking about whether we should get involved…" Rynar mused, referring to the Dwarves' expedition—the plot of The Hobbit.
"Thorin Oakenshield would make a good ally. If we want to establish ourselves in this land, we'll need to form alliances with those we can trust," Rynar muttered to himself.
Since this was a modified version of Middle-earth, the power dynamics were quite different.
Most notably, there were no gods, and there were far more spellcasters than the original Middle-earth, which only had five wizards.
The outcome of this expedition could be anyone's guess. In the original game, many lord players had helped Thorin and his company successfully reclaim the Lonely Mountain.
"Let's go! To Hobbiton!" Rynar finally decided to lend a hand.