Rolan went to inspect his fiefs and summoned the list before his eyes.
[Fiefs]
Village – 1
Castle – 1
Outpost – 1
Stronghold – 0
Military Camp – 0
Without wasting time, Rolan returned alone to the base. His loyal subordinates remained behind to guard the castle, keeping vigilant in case the goblins launched another attack. Men were stationed at every key position, ready to hold the line should the enemy attempt to take over.
His journey back was grueling. Rain followed him wherever he went, as if nature itself sought to test his resolve. He was forced to camp under a soaked tent each night, the cold seeping into his bones. Shivers racked his body, but he pressed on. He had endured worse.
When he finally arrived, the once-small base had transformed into a wooden fortress. The sturdy walls and stationed guards gave him a sense of relief. It wasn't impregnable yet—but it was a start.
Without delay, he assembled a new squad—twenty-four men, including four skilled builders. Their goal was to clear a road for future supply caravans. Soldiers could march through the woods easily enough, but carriages and carts needed roads. Their mission was vital.
They traveled by day, resting only at night under makeshift shelters. Rations were plentiful, but the strain of constant movement still bore down on them. Eventually, they reached the castle. The gates creaked open to welcome them, flanked by piles of goblin corpses—grim reminders of the price of defense.
Inside, they were greeted by a weary garrison. The soldiers had barely held the castle for days without proper rest. They moved sluggishly, their eyes sunken from fatigue and sleepless nights. Food was immediately prepared and shared—warm broth, meat, and bread. The scent alone lifted their spirits.
As they ate, the defenders recounted their ordeal.
It had been a rainy night when it all began. Soaked to the bone and clutching torches that flickered against the downpour, the soldiers stood watch atop the walls. Sleep was not an option. Goblins could strike at any moment.
Then, out of the darkness, arrows flew. One soldier dropped to the ground, an arrow embedded in his throat. Alarms sounded. Goblins rushed the gates, howling with bloodlust.
The defenders rushed into formation. Spears thrust through the iron-barred gate, holding the enemy back. But the goblins were relentless. They hurled ropes with hooked tips, climbing the walls. The soldiers cut the ropes, sending them tumbling back to the mud. Still, more came.
Archers loosed arrows from the battlements. Many goblins fell, but not without retaliation. Enemy archers fired back. Screams pierced the storm as poisoned arrows struck their marks. The poison spread quickly—some collapsed within minutes, others continued fighting through gritted teeth.
Chaos reigned. With no commander present, the garrison nearly faltered. But instinct and training prevailed. Shields were raised, and comrades covered one another's blind spots. They formed a wall of steel and will.
Goblins climbed the walls, bringing the fight onto the ramparts. Short and vicious, they aimed for legs and bellies—any vulnerable part they could reach. Their rusty weapons were poisoned, forcing the defenders to remain alert.
Shield bashes and sword strikes sent goblins flying. Still, for every enemy slain, another climbed up. The bodies piled high. Several brave men fell, and their corpses were later buried with honor.
When Rolan arrived, he brought not only supplies—but hope. Warm food and his very presence reinvigorated the troops. They knew more battles awaited, but for now, they could breathe.
At sunrise, construction resumed. Builders erected spiked fences beyond the gates—primitive, yet effective. A garrison hall was constructed next, capable of housing fifty soldiers, with plans for future expansion.
Inside the castle grounds, a training field was established. Straw dummies stood in rows, and training weapons lay scattered across the grounds. Soldiers soon gathered to train. Arrows flew at targets while swords and spears danced through drills.
Watchtowers were built next. Archers were stationed atop them, each with a wide view of the surroundings. One tower held an archer equipped with a telescope, effectively turning it into a reliable early-warning system.
Barracks were established to house armor and weapons. A war tent was also raised—Rolan's command post. Inside, he studied maps and planned future operations.
While exploring the castle, Rolan discovered a small library. Among the scattered books and scrolls, he found a map of the region. He placed it inside the war tent and immediately dispatched scouts to survey the realm.
The scouts returned days later with reports. Goblin camps were scattered through the valley. More importantly, the entire realm was nestled within a vast mountain range—only one road led northward. One entrance. One exit. A natural stronghold.
Realizing the strategic importance, Rolan ordered a blacksmith tent built. There, weapons could be repaired or improved, and new ones forged. Next came a healing tent to treat the wounded, complete with beds and a local healer.
Ironwood was sourced from nearby forests, allowing the construction of a crafting tent for bows, arrows, and wooden shields. A tannery was also set up, producing leather armor. While primitive, it offered decent protection until better materials could be acquired.
Repair workshops were constructed next, stocked with wood, stone, and cement. With these, damaged structures could be restored swiftly.
Rolan then ordered a crew to cut new roads leading to the castle, establishing small outposts along the way for security. Supply lines needed to be protected. He also migrated several workers from the village to the castle, bolstering its labor force.
During one mining expedition, they discovered veins of limestone. A mining station was promptly set up, and the limestone was used to craft cement. The castle walls were soon reinforced, hardened against the next wave of goblins.
The roads were completed, and outposts were manned. Caravans began delivering vital resources from the fortress to the castle. Each caravan was guarded, prepared for ambushes.
With the defenses in place and logistics under control, the castle became more than a foothold—it became a bastion. One that would stand tall in the battles yet to come.