Chapter 248: A Beachhead Probe

In the blink of an eye, Sylvanas appeared behind Duke, who was riding his horse.

At first glance, it seemed as if the two were sharing a horse, appearing to be intimately close. In reality, the future Banshee Queen didn't put any weight on the horse's back, and her presence was so light that Duke couldn't feel her weight at all.

She gently placed her hands on Duke's shoulders and leaned in from his right side. A mysterious, natural fragrance brushed softly against Duke's ear, making him feel ticklish.

Then, Duke suddenly felt an odd sensation on his right cheek.

It was the touch of red lips.

Unlike the gentle kiss from Alleria last time, this kiss seemed to be somewhere between affection and warning, between a 'kiss' and a 'bite'. It held a hint of reward, yet a faint warning.

"Yo, my sister's chosen boy, this is an advance reward for you. But if you dare to break your promise, I'll bite off a piece of flesh from the same spot," warned the Banshee Queen in a swift peck, akin to a chick pecking at grains.

Duke touched his right cheek, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Was this a warning or a reward?

Either way, Duke found himself teased once again.

Sylvanas' green figure suddenly vanished in a blink, so fast it was ridiculous, her graceful figure just as mesmerizing.

On the other side, Gavinrad chuckled mischievously.

"Hey! Your bodyguard skills are seriously lacking!" Duke complained.

"As long as you command, my hammer will not hesitate to strike the beautiful faces of Lady Alleria or Lady Sylvanas if they're deemed enemies," Gavinrad replied, a teasing smile on his face.

The unspoken challenge was, would Duke dare?

Even if Duke lost his mind, he wouldn't do that. That was the Banshee Queen! If he could change history, saving Sylvanas from becoming the cold, undead queen, and instead keep her as the warm, living being she once was, that would be perfect.

Thinking of King Llane, who was still alive and kicking, Duke suddenly gained confidence.

But would such a Sylvanas still be the Banshee Queen?

Duke suddenly felt a bit melancholic.

At that moment, Gavinrad muttered softly, "It's a good thing you didn't include the fourth one, or you'd have become everyone's enemy."

"What?" Duke was momentarily confused, not paying attention.

"Oh, never mind."

As expected, the Horde's probing attack arrived the next day.

It was a surprise attack at dusk.

Nearly thirty transport ships emerged from the horizon just as night was about to fall.

The Horde, lacking warships, cleverly dealt with the absence of naval dominance by using speed!

The vessels were absurdly fast and recklessly so!

These weren't the latest ironclad ships, but an earlier batch made purely of wood. They were lighter and faster.

The ship's hull was incredibly low, without masts or decks, and the visible part above the water was covered with defensive shells. The orc laborers had placed many large shells on the top of the ship for protection.

What powered the Horde's fast transport ships?

The answer was oars!

Purely manual power, free of any additives or preservatives. Oops, wrong – free of any advanced sailing technology.

They didn't even have rudders; they relied solely on rowing to change direction.

From a bird's-eye view, the ship looked like a... cockroach gliding on the water's surface!

Orc navigation was simple and brutal.

What if a big wave overturned the ship or if they got lost at sea due to their inadequate navigation skills?

No big deal! Just let it sink!

Orcs who couldn't contribute had no right to survive. That was the Orcs' harsh philosophy on life!

When twenty-seven out of thirty transport ships managed to escape the pursuit of the patrol fleet and charged towards the shore, a commotion erupted on Tol Barad.

It wasn't until these ships fearlessly cut through the waves, completely disregarding the possibility of recovery and reuse, that the first meaningless cannon fire resounded on the island.

The sky grew darker at a rapid pace.

From a distance, most of the ships had reached the shore. Many dark figures emerged, stepping onto the rocky beach. They didn't line up but instead chaotically charged towards the hills.

Even from the hilltop, Alleria could see these large creatures with red eyes and green skin. They were unarmored, wielding massive, crude weapons like axes, hammers, machetes, and spears. Many of these weapons lacked any metallic luster.

Moreover, there were a lot of them.

It was hard to imagine how more than fifty Orcs could fit into those small transport ships that seemed to have a capacity of only twenty people.

Twenty-two ships, over a thousand suicide squad members. A night raid!

For human regular troops, this was quite a challenge.

However, it was an exception for the high elven rangers.

There was no need even to gauge the wind direction; the Windrunner sisters were daughters of the wind. Alleria raised her emerald longbow and delicately placed three green arrows on her slender fingertips. Without any hesitation, she relayed a series of parameters: "Wind from the southwest, wind strength 2, elevation angle 3!"

Beside Alleria, the usually silent Lirath Windrunner uncharacteristically shouted out loud.

"Wind from the southwest, wind strength 2, elevation angle 3!"

Behind the Windrunner sisters, five hundred elite rangers silently raised their longbows.

If this were a human archery unit, a sharpshooter might need to lead the shot, and the others would follow the direction to ensure their arrows didn't stray too far off course.

Human archers focused on covering fire. They relied on numbers and arrow density to inflict area damage.

But the high elven ranger unit? Sorry, they were all damn snipers!

Alleria stood tall amidst the wind, her golden hair and green cloak billowing gracefully. She looked like a valiant female archery goddess.

"Triple shot!" Alleria commanded softly.

Over twelve hundred arrows, launched by these elite rangers holding two or three arrows each, soared into the sky in competition.

At the same time, Duke had arranged some dummy shots.

A catapult launched a volley of so-called arrows without arrowheads or fletching. Duke aimed for a dramatic, overwhelming barrage, specifically to impress the Orcs on the observing ships.

The truly lethal force, however, was Alleria's ranger squad.

It was difficult for arrows to inflict fatal wounds on the robust Orcs, a fact verified many times and considered a 'law' applicable only to human forces.

For the high elves, born with innate archery skills and gifted with dark vision and far-sighted eyes, the exposed throats and heads of the Orcs were like enormous targets.

By the second volley of the triple shot, the invading Orcs had already been wiped out.