The forces were placed behind a conveniently placed hill, so that they wouldn't be spotted. Fortunately, the other two armies weren't scouting. As far as the peasants were concerned, scouts were silly people asking silly questions. As far as the orcs were concerned, scouts were snacks.
The General wanted to see what was happening with his own eyes, so he positioned himself in a handy bunch of bushes overlooking the soon-to-be battlefield. It wasn't the best hideout ever, but with the two armies interested mainly in each other he decided it would be good enough. Along with him he took his only mage, who had a few spells handy for the occasion. A few messengers were waiting below, in case he needed to give orders to the troops quickly. The Marquis and the Baron came along too. Roseduck would have preferred to get rid of them, but they were High Lords, so he couldn't just order them to go away. At least he was able to leave his officers behind. Useless bunch, good only for relaying orders.
They saw the two armies. The orcs were numerous. Very numerous. They came in a variety of shapes and sizes, with ugliness being the common theme. Other themes were claws, fangs and drooling. Roseduck estimated twenty thousand of them, give or take a few thousands. The exact number didn't matter really, as they outnumbered the other army about ten to one. Would be five to one if Roseduck's cavalry was included. The orcs were armed with all sorts of weapons, from decent, steel stuff to crude wooden clubs and stone axes. Basically, whatever they had put their claws on. Same with armour: from good, blacksmith-made stuff, most likely looted from someone, to self-made clothing produced from some unlucky animals.
The peasant army looked like, well, peasants. Peasants armed with various farming implements or old and rusty weapons they had dug up in their attics or cellars. They had next to none armour. Even if the two forces were equal in number, Roseduck knew he'd put his money on the orcs. Deer, on the other hand, were a mystery. Why were they there? He had no idea if they were any good in a fight. Even if they were, the General didn't think that they would help the peasants' cause much. There just wasn't enough of them.
The Hero was another matter. No mistaking him. Tall, powerful figure in shining full plate armour, holding a gleaming silvery sword and a golden shield. Just one man, but his sheer presence could cause things to unfold in unexpected ways. Roseduck learned that from fairy tales. He was anxious to see if it would happen in the real world too.
The Hero stepped in front of his army and started walking towards the enemy. Behind him there was a much shorter person carrying a white flag. Parley? Is he crazy?! Roseduck chided himself in his mind. Of course he is crazy. He's a Hero. "Magnify this," he said to the mage.
The mage murmured a spell and before the General appeared a magnification of the scene. It was a bit hazy, but clear enough to see what was happening. Still, he couldn't quite make out what kind of creature the other fellow was. It could be a very short human, but he doubted it. He decided to make some use of his companions.
"Do you know what is he?" he pointed at the flag bearer. The mage and Marquis just shook their heads.
"Some sort of a... gnome?" the Baron suggested.
"What sort of a gnome?" the General inquired.
The Baron shrugged. "A flag-bearing gnome, obviously."
Roseduck groaned. He didn't know what he had expected from Oxrabbit. The Baron was predictably unhelpful. He went back to observing Arthaxiom.
The orcs saw the two approaching. It was evident because of all the pointing and laughing and jeering. A group of twenty orcs rushed to meet them, and their hostile intent was rather obvious. The rest cheered them on. Roseduck wondered why only twenty. Well, it made a bit of sense, because it should be more than enough. On the other hand, why not more?
The horde of orcs reached the paladin. One of them was ahead of the others. It got promptly beheaded and then the fun began. The General didn't know as much about small encounters as about large scale battles, but he knew that multiple weaker fighters could easily succeed against a single strong one if they swarmed him. Orcs surely knew that too, it wasn't exactly trebuchet science. Yet they didn't do that. They encircled Arthaxiom, but didn't rush all at once for some reason. Instead they approached in smaller groups. Some also tried to get him from the rear, but the assumed gnome proved to be a trident-wielding one too and guarded the paladin's back well.
The two armies were cheering their sides. Roseduck and Shaggysheep were watching intently, in silence. Oxrabbit also was watching, but silence wasn't much of his thing. Fortunately nobody could hear him above all the uproar.
"Shield! Shield! Now stab him! Your left! The other left! Watch out for the ugly one! The other ugly one!"
Soon the fight was over. All orcs but one were dead and the two fighters weren't even scratched. The last orc was defeated, but it didn't seem like the paladin was going to finish it.
"Can you get the voices?" the General asked. The mage could.
"Go tell your chieftain I want to parley!" the paladin was saying. The orc just grunted and nodded and quickly ran back to his ranks. Soon some other orcs went to meet with the paladin. These ones were larger and looked much more dangerous. Only when they met, Roseduck was able to see just how big they are. The largest one, apparently the leader, was over a head taller than the paladin, and wider too. Its companions weren't much smaller. The General was sure that they could simply wipe the Hero and his little friend off this plane of existence, but he wasn't at all surprised that they didn't.
"Want to surrender?" the orc leader asked.
"No. As per ancient custom, I challenge you to a duel!" This didn't need to come through the spell. The paladin said it so loudly that everyone could hear. The orcs were laughing like mad. The peasants were cheering. Roseduck was shocked. There was no way that the big orc would agree. No way. He had nothing to gain. Anyone with half a brain could see that.
"Good thinking, that man!" Baron Oxrabbit shouted enthusiastically.
***
"He did WHAT?!" Gaduria asked. She knew very well what he just did, but she asked anyway. She was watching the scene from afar, accompanied by Deer Lord and a few deer. Deer Lord brought the army of deer in return for Arthaxiom's Heroic getting rid of Valkyrie Wolf, but he wasn't going to fight himself, on account of being 'too old'. Gaduria wasn't participating either, on account of her being a woman and a princess, or the other way around. The paladin decided that the battlefield was no place for her, and for once she agreed. The orcs reminded her too much of her brothers, cousins, and wannabe boyfriends.
"He has just challenged the orc leader to a duel," Deer Lord explained patiently. "It's an ancient custom for the commanders to duel before the battle commences."
"I never heard about such custom."
"That's how ancient it is."
"Oh. Anyway, that ugly doesn't need to agree, does it?"
"Well, given that it probably doesn't know that custom, and that there's no one to enforce it, no. But it will agree anyway."
Gaduria gave Deer Lord a look. One of those reserved for people claiming that pigs can fly, and also for those trying to prove such claims with a catapult. "Why would it? With an army that big?"
"Because nobody refuses a duel against a Hero!"
"Even when it doesn't make any sense?"
"Especially then!"
***
Amusement among the orc group died down. Apart from one orc, who just couldn't stop laughing.
"Shut up!" the leader roared and hit the laughing orc in the face. The hit launched it in the air. It flew a small distance before falling to the ground, barely conscious. The General cringed. That big orc sure packed a punch. He definitely wouldn't like to fight him.
"I accept your custom," the orc spoke again. "You accept mine. Fight two on two." The orcs burst into laughter once again, pointing at the Hero's companion. He in turn was looking scared and uncertain. Roseduck was a bit surprised and a bit impressed. Even though the duel looked hard to win, it still gave better chances than a battle. Not that a victory
would necessarily prevent the battle. A pity there was only one Hero. Alone against two enormous orcs. Neither this gnome, nor any of the peasants seemed up to the task. Maybe a deer would be a bit better, but only a bit. Wouldn't stand long without armour. Roseduck briefly regretted Vannard wasn't here. He'd send him down there without hesitation. Unfortunately, he had no homicidal assassins on hand.
"Baron, what are his chances?" he asked. After all, the Baron was interested in that sort of thing. Stupid as he might be, in this particular case he could be considered an expert. Yet the Baron did not answer. "Baron?" The General noticed that Oxrabbit was no longer with them. He was so focused on watching the paladin that he missed him leaving.
Then he saw him. He was riding his horse. Towards the battlefield.
"What is he doing?!"
"Volunteering, I think," the Marquis replied.
"Is he mad?!"
"You mean you didn't notice that before?"
As the Baron approached the battlefield, they could hear his shouts. "PICK ME, PICK ME!"
The paladin turned towards the approaching figure. And then back towards the orcs. "We accept."
***
Otto the peasant was watching his pear tree. It was a good tree and he liked watching it. He did it for an hour every day. It was common knowledge that a pear tree grows better when it is being watched. Otto in his watching career had seen many different things. He saw birds sit on it, sing, and defecate. He saw squirrels climb it, chirp and fornicate. He saw a goat trying to eat its bark and he chased it away with a rake. On the other hand, he had never seen a star fly over it. Until now.
A flaming star fell from the sky and crashed with a bang just over the nearest hill. Otto didn't ponder on that long. He had heard many stories about legendary Heroes having swords made from starmetal. Metal from a star. Or basically from a rock that fell down from heavens. The stories weren't clear on details, but Otto didn't really need details. Something flaming that fell from the sky meant material for an awesome sword, and material for an awesome sword meant a lot of gold. As simple as that. He hurried to get his most prized possession: a donkey and a cart. He threw a shovel, a pitchfork and a length of rope onto the cart. He had no idea how big that thing would be, and he wanted to be prepared.
As he neared the place of the crash, he saw a hole in the ground and smoke coming out of it. He looked around. Nobody else was there. Good. He was first. Now to get the starmetal and get out. He approached the hole. What he saw there made him stop. There was a dead woman inside. She was wearing something red, or at least what was left of it. It was smouldering. She was smouldering, too, but miraculously she wasn't charred at all. In fact, the only reason for Otto to assume that she was dead was that she just couldn't have survived falling down from the sky. Only when she moved he realised he was wrong.
"What are you staring at?" she said, weakly, but somehow in a threatening manner. Or maybe it only seemed threatening, because she was still alive and speaking while she should have been stone dead. Or even falling star dead.
"Urm," he said.
She stood up with effort and staggered a bit. She looked around.
"Where I am?"
"Uh... in the Empire?"
"Good." She regarded Otto and his donkey cart. "Take me to the capital."
"But it's at least a week of travel!"
A week! Skunking Archmage exploded her quite a bit. Annoying. Very, very annoying. She didn't like being annoyed. The fact that the Archmage proved to be much more powerful than she annoyed her even more. She was going to fry that old goat. Somehow. As soon as she gets back.
"Take me there," she repeated, "or I will put you on fire."
That was a proposal Otto simply couldn't refuse. He didn't say even a word of complaint when she climbed out of her landing site and lied down on his cart.
"Move."
Otto reluctantly propelled the donkey forward. It wasn't how he had imagined this day at all. Instead of returning home with a precious chunk of starmetal he was going to the capital with some sort of insane, dropping from the sky, burning woman. Some sort of sorceress, most likely. He would like nothing more than to get rid of her. Somehow.
"Do wish to go to a healer? Or to get some clothes?"
The sorceress examined herself. She was in a lot pain. Especially her left leg, probably broken. A few ribs, too. Apart from that, she was pretty much unharmed. Her magical shield withstood the impact. Quite remarkable. Her dress was in a somewhat worse shape, with quite a lot of it rather charred, but nothing of strategic value was uncovered. It would do for now.
"No. Straight to the capital. Try anything and I'll put you on fire."
***
"Here we stand, mighty warriors, ready to fight for our cause! I am paladin Arthaxiom the Great..."
During the paladin's introduction the orc leader was picking its nose, and the other orc was yawning. Presumably. This, or it wanted to swallow its opponents. In either case, the orc leader didn't pass up the opportunity to flick whatever it dug out into its companion's open mouth. It didn't seem to mind. Also, both orcs didn't seem to care much about the Rainbow Sturgeon and the Joyous Beige Dragon.
"...Turquoise Spearman of Heavens, Sword of Justice in the Gloom of Uncertainty!"
"I am Baron Regedulf Solthyron Asrius Oxrabbit, High Lord of the Empire!" Compared to Arthaxiom's titles, this seemed a bit underwhelming. The Baron decided to improvise a bit. "Beater of Sheep, Defeater of Bulls, Dreaded Beaver Hunter, Amazing Armsman of Ancient Antioch, Fearsome Fist Fighting Foreign Foes!"
Arthaxiom nodded with approval. "What are your names, worthy opponents?" he asked the orcs. In response, the orc leader got a violent attack of coughing, and the other orc burped.
"I asked..."
"That our names. We fight or what?" The orcs weren't ones for lengthy introductions. They seemed only interested in fighting and killing.
"Yes!" Arthaxiom shouted enthusiastically. "Now we shall have a glorious battle as champions of our respective peoples! Or orcs, in your case! Battle between Arthaxiom and Regedulf on one side, and Aghaghagh and Braaagh on the other! A battle that generations of bards will compose songs about! A battle so epic in its grandeur that the whole world will hold its breath! It will be the battle to end all battles! The battle of... where are we, exactly?" The paladin looked around, but got no answer. Oxrabbit just shrugged, so did Aghaghagh. Braaagh threw up a bit in his mouth and spat it out on the chief's shield.
"Boring Plains!" one of the peasants called out.
"The Battle of Boring Plains!" Arthaxiom exclaimed.
"Yes!" the Baron chimed in. "Here we are, like... horses in the... horsery, you know, like badgers in the... badgerery, like newts in.... in... in the pond! Yes! Newts in the pond, you know! And now we shall see who is the bigger newt, the meaner newt, the newt with most spots on the back, the newt..."
The orcs suffered through the introductions and through the paladin's speech, but that exhausted their patience. Enough was enough. They weren't willing to hear out Oxrabbit and learn what kind of newts they could be if they win. Braaagh swung its club at the Baron. The double-duel had begun.
***
Roseduck didn't have much time to come up with a plan. And he needed two plans. One for a victory in the duel, and one for a defeat. The plan for defeat was easier to come up with. It contained two words: run away. A third one could be added as well: fast. The deer would run away too, if they know what's good for them. What were they doing on the battlefield in the first place, he had no idea. The peasants would get slaughtered. Not much he could do about that.
Now, what to do in case of victory? The rest of the orcs might attack anyway. On the other hand, they might not. Should their leader die... Roseduck had no idea how orc leadership worked. Would they get disorganised? They already were disorganised quite a bit, but it didn't make them any less dangerous. Would they fight or would they flee? Hard to say. He knew that the only thing he could do is to try to provide them some i
ncentive to run away. Something scary. Like, an overwhelming force, for example. The problem was that he didn't have one. His cavalry was not enough. Not even close. A messenger was dispatched to tell them to prepare for an attack anyway. Two thousand horsemen and one mage would have to do. Somehow.
***
Braaagh aimed a powerful blow at the Baron's head with its giant two-handed club and let out a roar to intimidate its opponent. This would have worked against a lesser man. This would have also worked against a smarter man. After all, the orc was big and strong and ugly. Scary. But Baron Oxrabbit wasn't one to be intimidated easily. He didn't even know the meaning of that word. He caught the blow on his shield. It made him stagger, but he paid no heed. He roared back. He wasn't going to get outroared!
Meanwhile Arthaxiom engaged in swordfight against Aghaghagh, the orc chieftain. This fight was more symmetrical, with each combatant carrying a sword and a shield. The orc had the advantage of size and reach, while the paladin had the advantage of being a Hero and having all his Heroic gear. The fight was even so far. They evenly failed to cause harm to each other.
The orcs, instead of using the opportunity to do some slaughtering, were cheering for their leaders. Probably. The dreadful sounds they were producing could have been a great many thing. An invitation to dinner, maybe, or a promise of a painful death. Or perhaps a poem about a picturesque waterfall, unlikely as it would seem.
The peasants, instead of using the opportunity to do some running away, were cheering for their champions. The cheering consisted of shouting various phrases that might or might not had anything to do with the ongoing battle. It didn't matter. The main goal was to be louder than the orcs. Unfortunately they weren't doing well. No amount of effort could overcome superior numbers and natural talent.
The deer, instead of using the opportunity to do just about anything else, were grazing peacefully.
Baron Oxrabbit wasn't one to stay on the defensive. After blocking a few blows with his shield he charged at his opponent. Poor Braaagh never before had an opportunity to fight defensively. Usually whatever it hit with its club fell down and didn't get up again. This one refused to. Even worse, this one pressed on the attack and the orc suddenly realised that parrying sword strikes with a giant piece of wood wasn't a good idea. To make it even worse, the Baron also bashed it with his shield. And screamed "BAD DONKEY!" right in its face. Braaagh gave ground quickly.