Rynar set out with 103 men and returned with 193—could this be the legendary ultimate military strategy: "the more you fight, the more you gain"?
"Alright, everyone, pick up the pace! We need to get to Rivendell!" Rynar exclaimed, brimming with confidence.
"But, my lord... where exactly is Rivendell?" Reynard asked sheepishly. (In this world, Reynard has yet to become the Governor of the North, so he doesn't know where Rivendell is.)
"..." Rynar was speechless.
"Caslow, do you know where Rivendell is?" Rynar asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.
"Uh... maybe we should check the map?" Caslow scratched his head awkwardly.
"So... we're lost again?" Rynar asked, incredulous.
Seeing Reynard and Caslow confirm his suspicion, Rynar felt several black lines forming on his forehead.
He covered his face with his hand, remembering the last time they got lost while searching for Bag End in Hobbiton.
"Alright, let's check the map then..." Rynar sighed.
...
"This is the last elven sanctuary in the East, often called..." Gandalf raised an eyebrow as he introduced the place.
"Rivendell!" Bilbo murmured in awe, stunned by the beauty before him.
"Gandalf?" an elf approached.
"Ah, Lindir. I'm here to see Lord Elrond," Gandalf replied.
"Unfortunately, Lord Elrond is not here at the moment," Lindir informed them.
At that moment, the sound of hooves echoed from behind the group...
"When the thrush knocks, stand by the grey stone. The last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole," Lord Elrond read aloud the moon-letters on the map under the moonlight.
...
Late at night, Rynar and his party, exhausted and weary, sat around a campfire, scrutinizing the map in hopes of finding something useful.
But the sheepskin map, drawn with nothing more than simple lines, offered no help at all.
"My lord, perhaps we should just go our own way..." Reynard suggested, helplessly.
"What are you talking about? We've still got 10 brothers out there with the others," Rynar groaned, rubbing his forehead.
With Rynar's current strength, he could easily conquer a small town in the Shire and set himself up as a local tyrant. But he just couldn't bear to miss out on the main storyline's quest rewards.
"System, sign in!" Rynar glanced up at the sky. Good, it was well past midnight.
"Sign-in successful! You have been awarded 100 Rapid Infantry from the Zaltarion Empire."
"Whoa, seriously? More troops?" Rynar exclaimed in shock.
However, there was no way these rapid infantry could ride horses.
First, as infantry units, riding wouldn't enhance their combat abilities. Second, Rynar's supply of warhorses was nearly depleted...
Rynar summoned the 100 infantrymen, and before long, the sound of marching could be heard in the distance. The vigilant Battanian archers already had their bowstrings taut.
"They're allies, relax," Rynar rolled his eyes at his overly nervous companions.
There were no wandering orcs stupid enough to attack a fully professional army unless it was an entire orc horde.
"My lord! We are here under orders to reinforce you!"
The rapid infantry, lined up neatly, saluted by pounding their fists against their chests.
The memories the system had given them told them they had come from the Shire to support their lord—Rynar, the last lord of Zaltarion.
"Thank you. Rest up, everyone." Rynar waved them off, and his men immediately started setting up tents. Everything was carried out in an orderly manner.
Rynar took a closer look at the rapid infantry.
It was his first time really studying this unit. In the game, these Zaltarion soldiers were essentially cannon fodder, just regular folk turned into soldiers.
But now, things seemed different!
Thanks to the Zaltarion Empire's wealth, even the equipment of these regular infantrymen was quite impressive (relatively speaking).
The rapid infantry were recruited from the River Running region, and thus they were named after the rapid flow of water.
They were a mid-tier unit, bridging the gap between light and heavy infantry.
They wore iron kettle helms, leather armor beneath chainmail, and carried 5-meter-long pikes.
On their backs, they bore full-body shields reinforced with iron, and at their waists hung steel war hammers.
These men were armed to the teeth, though they lacked the abilities of professional warriors.
If they were to face an equal number of trainee-level soldiers, they would still be wiped out.
...
Under the bright sky, Rynar and his now significantly larger force set out again... or rather, they were still wandering in circles.
"Spread out! Find an elf! Damn it, if we can't find Rivendell, we can at least find an elf!" Rynar exclaimed, inspired.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" Caslow immediately chimed in, flattering Rynar.
Reynard covered his face, utterly embarrassed. This was the first time he'd seen someone resort to kidnapping people to ask for directions...
Meanwhile, Lindir was leading a patrol of 10 elven cavalrymen. They crossed hills, streams, and grasslands, and then... they were surrounded.
Nearly 300 men had encircled them, weapons at the ready. Lindir's heart sank.
The weakest of them were those rapid infantry, but those 5-meter-long pikes formed a daunting forest of spears.
The heavily armored mounted archers on the perimeter looked equally dangerous (Battanian archers on horseback were deceptively threatening), and those knights in full plate armor with their steel lances could likely take out his entire group in a single charge.
Steeling himself, Lindir rode forward and shouted, "What do you think you're doing? Are you humans violating the alliance? This is Rivendell!"
"Pfft!" someone couldn't help but laugh.
Rynar twitched at the corner of his eye. He had expected this young elf, with his thick brows and righteous expression, to challenge him to a duel.
But it turned out the kid was just trying to bluff his way out of the situation.
"Perfect! Rivendell is exactly what we're looking for! Seize them!" Rynar rubbed his hands together in excitement.
"Got it! Watch this!" Caslow, ever the loyal henchman, grinned as he led the others in surrounding the elves.
"Ah! You despicable humans!"
"Hey, watch the tone!"
...
"My lord! We've captured them all," Caslow reported cheerfully.
"Pfft!" Reynard was stunned by the scene before him.
"What the hell did you do to them?" Rynar asked, pointing at the 11 elves with swollen, pig-like faces.
"Well, they resisted, and we couldn't kill them..." Caslow muttered sheepishly.
"Y-You k-killed..!" Lindir stammered through his swollen lips.
"Alright, let them go..." Rynar turned around, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. After a while, he turned back.
"So, could you kindly tell me how to get to Rivendell?" Rynar asked, barely holding back his amusement as he looked at the "pig-headed" elf in front of him.
"I... I w-won't t-tell you!" Lindir snarled, still furious.
"What now, my lord?" Reynard shrugged helplessly.
"Stay alert! We'll wait for more elves to come looking. A patrol squad's gone missing; I bet the elves will notice," Rynar sighed.
"Understood!" Reynard left to make preparations.