The Lord of the Rings: Lords of Middle-earth.

Chapter 464 Right of Reward

"No? Then where did these orcs come from?" Roland scratched his head in confusion. These orcs couldn't have just popped out of the ground, could they?
“I think the most likely scenario is that a group of wandering orcs were brought together by the orc lords of Dolgoth.” Apophis Breo walked over at some point.

"What are they sending these cannon fodder for?" Roland scoffed, then immediately wanted to slap himself. He instantly saw through the orcs' scheme. From a hindsight perspective, the role of these cannon fodder was nothing more than to stir up the situation around the kingdom, threatening the kingdom's development and the safety of its people. If any scattered orcs were to infiltrate the heart of the kingdom, they would cause enormous destruction.

"I understand!" Roland nodded quickly and muttered to himself. He had figured out the connection, but this trick in the dead of winter wouldn't be very effective against the Kingdom of Lagrange.

“It’s good that you understand!” Apophis Breo nodded and placed a loaf of bread next to the campfire.

“But winter is no use to us! And the chariot people from the East and the orc tribes from the North are much more threatening than them!” Roland said dismissively.

After all, for kingdoms like Rohan and Gondor with their large populations and dense villages, the consequences of orcs invading their territory are self-evident. But for the dilapidated environment of the Kingdom of Lagrange... would orcs come here to eat dirt? Roland smiled shyly, "I am not very talented. The entire kingdom, including the vassals, only has four settlements. The rest of the land is a vast wilderness in winter. Even if you orcs wanted to destroy it, you could only turn over the soil for the farmers."

“Yeah, they have some intelligence, but not much!” Omske shook his head. It was only because these orcs were lucky that they caught Apophis Breo’s private army stronghold. Otherwise, whether it was Swiftstream City, Lulong Fortress, or even Delwin Town and Tupte Territory, these orcs could have been thoroughly defeated. Don’t forget, the grassland elves live with the centaurs. Although the garrison in Delwin Town is small, consisting of only a small squad of woodland elites and light infantry, the combined forces of the two territories are not something just any Tom, Dick, or Harry can come and cause trouble! Not to mention that Swiftstream City is only twenty miles away, and the Knights and Dragon Riders will arrive in an instant. If they really entered the heart of the kingdom, these orc cannon fodder would just be giving the soldiers experience.

"Alright, even though the orcs' brains aren't fully developed, we can't let our guard down. After all, history always has some lucky ones who aren't among them!" Roland smiled and reminded everyone. After all, even the transmigrator Wang Mang was outmaneuvered by the chosen one of the plane, Liu Xiu. Roland, being a transmigrator himself, was also afraid of being ganged up on by the chosen one of the dark side. After all, no matter how powerful a cheat is, he can't beat the server administrator. Before the War of the Ring, the "great" Dark Lord Sauron was practically the protagonist template. If it weren't for Frodo's plot-driven death, who knows what would have happened to the allied forces...

“Yes, I will order the cavalry and knights to ensure maximum patrols! To minimize the probability of orc infiltration!” Omsk pounded his chest.

"Yes, don't forget to tell the men to be on the lookout for guests from the west! If we spot them, we'll have to deal with them with swords and spears!" Roland's eyes flashed with a cold light. Perhaps those Eastern barbarians were innocent, but when they chose Soren to stand against Roland, then none of the chariot people were innocent. There is no mercy in war!

"Don't worry! They'll be kept out of the country!" Omske narrowed his eyes, his gaze filled with killing intent and icy coldness. The chariot people were far more terrifying than the orcs, especially to the unprotected civilians in the wilderness. If even one chariot charged in, it would be a bloodbath!
"Whoosh~" A strange sound came from the sky. Everyone looked up and saw that Caslo was riding a dragon and catching up.

"Boom!" Kaldo crashed to the ground. After Caslo jumped off the dragon's back, his body immediately began to shrink and quickly became the size of a lizard, climbing onto Caslo's shoulder.

"Your Highness, I'm late!" Caslo said respectfully, pounding his chest in a deep bow.

"It's alright, we're all late!" Roland said, pointing to Olaf and the others who had opened their sleepy eyes after being disturbed by Kaldo on the pile of corpses.

"Oh? Did these warriors do it?" Caslo asked curiously.

"Hmm, four men split into three groups, attacking from both sides! Apophis's military tactics, his men have learned them!" Roland said calmly. "Pfft!" Caslo, who had just taken a sip of hot water, sprayed it all over Omske's face.

"Oh! Dragon God! I'm sorry!" Caslo hurriedly wiped Omsk clean.

"Damn it! Give me a reason not to challenge you to a duel!" Omske was utterly humiliated.

“Your Highness…” Apophis Breo stared at Roland with resentful eyes. He had already said he wouldn’t take the blame for this. What did he mean by “his military strategy”? That was clearly a problem of Olaf’s understanding. When had he ever said that four people could pursue in three separate groups? How could they be divided? Was one person an army?

"Ahem, stop talking, we all know you're a master of military strategy!" Roland teased.

“My lord? This is…” Olaf staggered over.

"Damn it! Open your dog eyes and look! This is His Majesty the King! This is Omske and His Majesty Kaslo!" Apophis Breo kicked Olaf in the leg, seemingly scolding him but actually protecting and reminding him.

"Hmm? Good day, Your Highness! Good day, Your Majesties! I am Olaf, the captain of the Vanguard Armored Corps." Olaf quickly took off his helmet, bowed, and touched his chest in salute.

"Smack!" Apophis Breo slapped his own head, cursing the hell out of the dark!
"Yes, rise, my warrior!" Roland nodded, gesturing for Olaf to rise.

"Yes!" Olaf breathed a sigh of relief and straightened his back, his face still showing some excitement at meeting the king.

Roland carefully examined the valiant soldier leader before him. Although his victory had an element of luck, his boldness, meticulousness, and extraordinary bravery were undeniable. It was already quite remarkable that he dared to charge into the hundreds of orcish soldiers' route with only four men. Moreover, he "understood" a little bit of military strategy. In Middle-earth, he could be considered a talent, at least in the territory of Lagrange.

It has to be said that the young man in front of him, with brown hair, a three-dimensional face, and even a somewhat handsome appearance, was capable of doing something that could be described as insane. This made Roland rethink the idea that one cannot judge a book by its cover.

“Apophis, you can bestow titles upon your retainers as you see fit. I’ll give you the authority to grant titles below the rank of lord; you can decide for yourself!” Roland turned to Apophis Breo and whispered.

He didn't want to skip Apophis Breo and directly bestow a title upon Olaf. After all, his vassal's vassal was not his vassal. Although bestowing a title upon Olaf himself would gain Olaf's loyalty and support, it would also create resentment between him and an ancient grand duke's heir. He knew which was more worthwhile.

(End of this chapter)