A one-man army!
Galen surged forward on his warhorse, channeling the Holy Light into a Divine Steed spell and charging directly at the heart of the Orcish main camp.
Turalyon and Varian flanked him, their warhorses thundering as the entire hundred-man cavalry wedge followed, smashing toward the enemy commander like a living spearhead.
The Orc standard-bearers barely had time to react. The charge hit like a storm—banners torn, orcs thrown into the air, blood flying. They never stood a chance.
The Laughing Skull clan's overseer saw disaster looming and steered his blood wolf mount away from the oncoming charge. Facing Stormwind's heavy cavalry head-on would have been suicide.
"Retreat!" bellowed the Orc commander.
He had hoped human weakness would break before orcish strength. When Danath and Gavinrad helped reinforce the village, he'd still believed victory possible. But after the lines held, and the siege failed, retreat became the only option.
Now, with his command post overrun and the banner crushed beneath warhorse hooves, he had no will left to fight Galen. He had to flee—maybe return with reinforcements. He cursed himself for not bringing more warriors.
The retreat horn blared. The Orcs at the village gate broke ranks and ran. Some were overwhelmed by human troops before they could escape, cut down in the chaos.
By the end of the charge, hundreds of orcs lay dead. The survivors scattered into the eastern forest.
Galen regrouped and led his men back to Gran Village. After two days of riding and two forced marches, the cavalry needed rest. Pursuit was not an option.
The remaining knights took defensive positions at the village gates. Priests and local militia worked quickly—tending the wounded, collecting the dead, and dousing fires.
Elro Ebonlocke, Gran's administrator, arrived to offer thanks. According to Gavinrad, Elro was heir to the Ebonlocke family, whose lands included Gran Village—one of the largest settlements on the kingdom's eastern frontier.
In time, this place would become Duskwood. But for now, it was still part of the uncorrupted Sunnyglade Forest.
Elro guided Galen's company to the town hall. The streets were scarred—burning homes, broken walls, and bloodied survivors. Priests healed who they could. Some villagers were already beyond help.
Orc corpses littered the roads—remnants of those Galen and his knights had slain. Militiamen and able-bodied locals gathered the bodies, stunned by the orcs' monstrous appearance.
There was grief. Families wept for the dead. Others gave silent thanks to the knights who'd saved them.
Inside the town hall, Galen and his officers rested briefly. Elro had work to do—organizing relief efforts and rebuilding what could be salvaged.
War casualties were tallied. Galen's knights suffered few losses. The village militia, however, had taken the brunt—300 dead, 150 severely wounded, 52 civilians killed, and countless injured.
The orcs had left over 300 bodies behind—most slain by Galen's knights. The militia had never fought orcs before and couldn't mount an effective defense. In time, the Night Watch would become legendary—but not yet.
Varian stood quietly, absorbing it all. These were his people—dead at the hands of the Horde. The weight of command settled heavily on his young shoulders.
Gavinrad returned, brushing soot from his armor. He had redeployed the Iron Horse Brotherhood to secure the village's perimeter.
He entered, grabbed a water jug, and drank it all in one go.
"Defense lines are set. My men will take the first watch. Can yours cover second shift?"
"Of course," Galen replied. "Omar and the others will take over at dusk."
He had brought his most promising knights—Omar, Varrokal, Heini, and Fadir. Each led a group of fifty. This battle was their test.
"By the way," Gavinrad added, "that Light-infused charge earlier—how did you pull that off?"
Galen grinned. "Want to learn? I'll teach you."
Gavinrad blinked. "Just like that?"
"Be confident, Gavin. You've got what it takes. History proves it. You're destined for the Silver Hand—why not start now?"
"When do we begin?" Gavinrad asked eagerly.
"Once the village is secure. We'll hold an initiation. A few of my men will test alongside you—maybe we'll gain a few more paladins."
"Sounds good. Your men show promise," Gavinrad said, before heading off to help Elro with defenses.
Galen was pleasantly surprised. Gavinrad had a sharp eye for talent. He had famously doubted Arthas, and history proved him right.
Galen knew Omar and Heinnie were future legends. Varrokal and Fadir had been minor NPCs in the old timeline—killed off early. But Galen had trained them, shaped them, and now even Gavinrad saw their potential.
It was working.