The sound of roaring engines filled the crisp morning air as Derreck fought down his mild headache, it would have been worse if he hadn’t drank plenty of water and waited for his buzz to go any before finally getting some sleep. He inspected his convoy of knights and orcs as he sipped his coffee, one last check before heading out, he shot Lady Ameila a glance once or twice as she seemed to be actively avoiding him. Maybe it was the embarrassment of being carried to her apartment in front of her knights he didn’t know but he did notice her looking at him quite a bit as she talked to her knights, in fact all of her knights were giving him odd glances he didn’t seem to understand. Lady Ashley in particular was also staring at him quite a bit and when he returned her glance with a friendly smile she looked away in almost a panic. What the hell did I do to her I wonder, he wondered as he made his final checks.

  As the first lights of the sun came into the valley a small fleet of trucks tore across the rugged terrain of the northern steppes. They kicked up clouds of dust that followed in their wake, blending into the overcast sky. In the lead truck loaded down with a collection of knights and orcs crowded into the pickup bed, inside Derreck sat behind the wheel, his eyes scanning the landscape ahead with a sense of grim determination. To his right sat Clyde who would act as his navigator, in the back seat sat Henrick and Lady Amelia, her armor gleaming faintly in the dim light, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as she kept watch out the passenger side window or at least that’s what she told herself to keep from staring to much at Derreck, she couldn’t overcome her embarrassment over how she behaved last night, like some common barmaid with a crush instead of a princess of Holforth and more so what Lady Ashley had told her about how Derreck had put her to bed, removing her armor for her. It was a scene portrayed many times normally by lovers written in the court romances in the castle library, the mere mention of it caused Ashley to blush uncontrollably, but she had no trouble repeating the story to most of the other knights who were now looking at Derreck with their ideas of him undressing them, making him the number one topic of gossip among them.

  "We should reach Thornhold before dusk, if the roads hold," Derreck said, his voice steady, trying to break the silent tension. "But if Zion has really started the war, we should expect trouble long before then."

  Derreck knew trouble loomed if Zion was on the march Thornhold was always one of the first cities attacked in each regression in the novel if war was coming that fast there wasn’t much time. Lady Amelia glanced at him still a little embarrassed but she felt the need to respond. “Thornhold is the gateway to the northlands along the trail at the edge of the Sadar mountains opening up to the plains, if it’s fallen, it will cut the north in half …”

  She trailed off, her gaze darkening. Thornhold had been a crucial fortress, a bulwark against the deserts of the north and the Empire of Zion’s creeping influence. Its fall would be a blow to the morale of all he nations of the north. its towering walls standing firm against centuries of invasions. But what of it Now.

  Derreck let the silence be. His mind was focused on what lay ahead, but he couldn’t help but feel they were already too late. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as the terrain began to shift, becoming more uneven and rocky as they left Begger’s Gap and moved onto the open plains of the northern steppes, Derreck saw first-hand why Beggar’s Gap was so isolated, it was a narrow gap between two mountain ranges that shielded the valley on three sides, it was a hidden corner of the map that Darien Kane used in his first regression to narrow Zion’s numbers and finally defeat them. The valley opened up to the great plains of northern Varinja where much of the crops of the peninsula were grown for the city states of the south. In the distance, plumes of smoke were visible, darkening the horizon like a scar on the landscape.

  Amelia tensed beside him. "Do you see that? Smoke."

  "I see it," Derreck replied, his voice low. "that’s Thornhold in the distance, the whole city must be ash by now. there’s also so smoke closer to us, it doesn’t look like Zion’s army. It’s too scattered, too small. Bandits."

  As if on cue, Grond, the massive orc commander in charge of the pack of orcs in the back of the truck, lumbered forward and leaned in through the window speaking in orc to Derreck. "It’s a Battle ahead my Warlord," he growled, his voice a booming like thunder in Derreck’s ear. "I can smell the blood in the air. We are ready lord, we will fight?"

  Derreck didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing. Thornhold’s has collapsed he thought and now it had sent waves of instability through the region. Former soldiers who had once sworn oaths to defend the fortress had deserted when it fell, and now in the chaos, they had turned to banditry. They preyed on the weak, on refugees who had fled the city in desperation. It was no surprise they’d wait to pick off the stragglers hiding from Zion’s patrols.

  "We will fight," Derreck finally said, his voice firm. "Prepare the men. Knights and orcs together."

  Grond grunted in approval and clambered back to the rear to rally his kin. Within moments, the orcs were growling and preparing their weapons as Grond signaled the other trucks to do the same, the knights—more disciplined but no less fierce—readied themselves for battle as well. Clyde leaped out to survey the scene as Derreck’s vehicle as they slowed to a stop.

  "We’re not far from Thornhold," Clyde said. " By the gods if the city has truely fallen, They must be refugees."

  "They are," Derreck confirmed. "And we’ll deal with the bandits before they can do any more damage."

  Clyde nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "your knights are ready lord. But… do you think we can trust the orcs in this fight?"

  Derreck shot him a sharp glance. "I’ve pledged my loyalty to Tarrack Nor. The orcs fight with us. That’s all there is to it."

  Clyde gave a short nod, now there was doubt in his eyes. Lady Amelia, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, her voice measured but resolute. "Derreck’s right. This will prove the orcs worth. In the dark times to come, we’ll need all the allies we can muster."

  The rest of convoy came to a halt, and Derreck gazed out over the landscape, he could see the ragged line of refugees—men, women, and children—fleeing in terror from a group of mounted bandits who were closing in on them from all sides. The refugees, many of them Thornhold’s last survivors, were defenseless, their only protection being a few hastily armed townspeople who had no chance against the former soldiers who now attacked them.

  Derreck’s blood boiled at the sight as he lept up on the hood of the truck so his words would carry. His voice thundered over the din of engines and clanking armor. "Knights of the north! For Atalantha!

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  The group understood the profoundness of his words, not orc or men but knights one and all, there was a ring of equality in that. All his knights both orc and men roared in approval that echoed across the plains. Derreck jumped down from the truck, drawing twin swords made especially for him from the steel of his home world forged in the fires of his newly constructed smithy. he strode forward. Without another word, he led the charge, and his army followed.

  The bandits were initially caught off guard by the surge of force coming down the hill at them, they quickly scrambled to regroup, trying to form a phalanx as they realized they were about to be engaged by a much larger force. But it was too late. The knights, united under Derreck’s command, descended upon them like a storm.

  Derreck’s swords flashed as he cut down the first bandit in his path, his blades were moving with a speed and precision that left his foes reeling. He was relentless, each swing driven by a fierce determination to protect the refugees now behind him. As the bandits tried to form a line, they were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of Derreck’s army.

  Grond and the orcs were a force of nature, their weapons crashing through shields and armor with terrifying force. Grond himself was a whirlwind of destruction, his massive blade carving through the ranks of bandits like they were nothing more than kindling. The other orcs fought with similar brutality, their savage strength making quick work of the deserting soldiers.

  Clyde, always close to Derreck’s side, fought with a determined grace, his great sword flashing as he parried and struck with deadly precision. Lady Amelia, her armor gleaming, fought with the discipline and skill of a seasoned knight not even needing to channel her mana into her blade, cutting through the chaos with an almost effortless efficiency. But even she, in the heat of battle, couldn’t help but glance at Derreck in awe. His presence on the battlefield was unlike any other commander she had seen the true vision of a knight—he fought not for himself, but for the lives of those who had no other hope.

  The bandits, seeing their numbers dwindle, began to retreat, but Derreck would have none of it. "No mercy for deserters!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the clamor of battle

  The knights pushed forward, cutting down the fleeing bandits one by one. Some tried to surrender, throwing down their weapons in desperation, but there was no forgiveness for those who had betrayed their oaths. In the end, the battlefield was littered with the bodies of the bandits, their blood soaking into the dry earth.

  Derreck stood over the last fallen foe, his chest heaving from exertion, but his mind still focused. He turned to the refugees, many of whom had been huddling together in fear during the battle. Now, they looked up at him with a mixture of awe and fear, surely a commander so savage in battle would now turn to them to pillage their spoils. Slowly, one by one, they began to rise, ready to except their fate.

  "You're safe now," Derreck said, his voice quieter but no less commanding. "Gather your people. We’ll escort you to safety."

  They couldn’t believe their ears, they who had nothing were truly saved by a force as divine as the goddess of mercy herself who could this commander be who demanded no tribute for his efforts.

  A woman, carrying a small child in her arms, approached him hesitantly. "Thank you… we thought we were going to die but then you rode in like a divine wind, where is it that you come from my lord."

  Derreck responded simply. "we are the knights of Atalantha.” There was a shocked confusion on the refugee’s faces, could the legend be true “We’ll take you north, where you’ll be safe."

  The refugees murmured. Only Zion and the Orc lands lay to the north? Many of them had lived in fear of the orcs their entire lives, told stories of their savagery and brutality. But now, as they looked at the orcs who had fought to protect them, some of that fear began to dissipate.

  Grond approached, his blood-stained blade resting on his shoulder. "my men will take them north my lord, and on our lives we will see them to our homeland, to Atalantha."

  Now talk of the old legends came up, of the mighty floating fortress. It must be the same place. But did orcs and men really live side by side in peace there. They must they even had orc knights

  Derreck nodded and turned back to the refugees. " These knight of Atalantha will see you all safe to our homelands if you wish it, where my knights and the mighty orc horde of Tarrack Nor will protect those under our banner. You’ll be treated as kin in the north. The city of Atalantha will welcome you, and you’ll be free to live and trade in peace."

  One of the older men among the refugees, a former merchant by the look of him, stepped forward. "What about the Empire of Zion? Will we be safe from them?"

  Derreck met the man’s gaze. "Zion’s reach won’t extend into the northwest territories until they conquered the south. And even if they try, they’ll have to go through us first. My orc knights are the fiercest things this side of a wyvern’s tail, You have my word—you’ll be safe."

  The refugees began to murmur in agreement, their fear slowly turning into hope, the legends may be true these men really did appear to be the knights of Atalantha, they might yet be saved. Derreck turned to Grond. "Have your men prepare some trucks. We’ll send the refugees north with a few of the knights to guard them."

  Grond grunted in approval and began barking orders to his kin, who quickly moved to help the refugees onto the trucks. Derreck watched for a moment, then turned to Clyde and Amelia.

  "We can’t take them with us to Holforth," he said. "And this area is now a warzone that’s no place for unarmed civilians, and Zion’s forces will be all over the borderlands."

  Clyde nodded. "You’re right. Holforth is a long march, and it’ll be dangerous. You were wise to send them north to the orc lands and continue on to Holforth ourselves."

  As the refugees were loaded onto the trucks, Derreck walked over to Grond, who had been overseeing the loading of supplies. One of the orcs had found several chests filled with the bandits’ ill-gotten gains—gold, silver, jewels, and other valuables. Grond opened one, revealing the treasure inside.

  "look my lord there is a boon for our efforts?" Grond asked, his eyes gleaming with interest.

  Derreck shook his head. "No. This treasure doesn’t belong to us."

  Grond grunted in confusion, his brow furrowing. "We fought to take this lord. That is the orc way."

  Derreck turned to the refugees, who were watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and fear, that was blood money that the people of thornhold paid dearly for. Derreck stepped forward, raising his voice so they could all hear. "This treasure was stolen from the people of Thornhold. It’s not ours to keep."

  He gestured to the refugees. "Take it. Use it to rebuild your lives. With this, you can start over, build homes, and trade in Atalantha. It belongs to you now."

  A stunned silence fell over the crowd. Even Derreck’s own knights seemed taken aback by his words. Lady Amelia, in particular, stared at him in disbelief.

  "You’re giving away the spoils of war?" she asked, her voice filled with incredulity. "After all your men fought for?"

  Derreck turned to her, his expression calm but resolute. "What good is treasure if we lose our humanity in the process? These people have nothing left. They’ve lost everything. We’re not fighting this war for wealth, but for everyone’s lives."

  Amelia’s eyes softened as she regarded him, her initial shock fading into something else admiration, perhaps. She had served under many commanders in her time, but none had ever given away the spoils of war so freely, so selflessly. It was just like the legends of Atalantha, knights of great chivalry who would fight to the last man for their people never seeking reward.

  "You’re different, knight of Atalantha to give out hope like candy to babes" she said quietly, almost to herself.

  Derreck smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe I just know what it’s like to lose everything, and besides they’ll be plenty of time to make and lose fortunes in this war."

  As the refugees gathered the treasure, their expressions filled with gratitude, Derreck turned back to his companions.

  "Let’s move out," he said, his voice firm. "We’ve still got a long way to go."

  With the refugees safely on their way to the orc lands, Derreck and his remaining forces turned their attention back to the road ahead. Holforth awaited them, and beyond that, the looming war with the Empire of Zion. But for now they had saved lives and had given hope to those who had none.

  And that, Derreck thought as he climbed back into his truck, was worth more than some treasure.