My planet is infested with Goblins

Colonel Alaric Veyne saw the northern line collapse before the messenger reached him.

Men were already falling back through the darkness in uneven groups, some still carrying shields and trying to preserve formation while others stumbled through the tents with no officer immediately visible among them.

Fresh Viridian troops followed at a controlled pace, refusing to rush so far ahead that they lost contact with their own formations. The eastern perimeter was also shrinking. What had begun as a camp defense was becoming a collection of isolated fights around wagons, medical stations, and half-packed tents.

Alaric understood that there was no longer any value in trying to recover the outer positions. If he wanted to save what remained of the army, he needed to compress the defense before panic turned every withdrawal into a rout.

"Everyone back to the central wagons," he ordered.

"Abandon the outer tents. Infantry forms around the wounded. Crossbowmen inside the line. Anyone still looking for his company stop looking and joins the nearest officer."

Messengers repeated the orders in every direction. Soldiers began moving toward the center, but the retreat was uneven because many of the original companies no longer existed as coherent formations.

Men who had fought beside the same comrades all afternoon found themselves standing beside strangers from other units, following whichever sergeant or lieutenant still had enough authority to make himself heard.

Captain Joren Bale emerged from the northern darkness with fewer than sixty soldiers around him. His shield was gone, and his sword arm was coated in blood from the wrist to the elbow. He reached Alaric near the central wagons and immediately looked toward the eastern line rather than asking for rest.

"The north is finished as a position," Joren said. "I brought back everyone I could gather."

"How many fled west?"

"Some. I cannot give you a number. When the lieutenant holding the wagon line went down, half the men thought the entire camp had been ordered to retreat."

Alaric clenched his jaw.

"Send mounted messengers after them. Stop anyone still running alone and rally them on the road."

Joren nodded.

"We may not get them all back."

"We do not need them back here. We need them organized."

A burst of Viridian ranged fire struck the central perimeter while Alaric was still issuing orders.

Bolts slammed into wagon boards and shields. One healer fell beside a wounded soldier he had been carrying. Another projectile struck a horse tied to an ammunition cart, and the animal reared violently until soldiers cut it free before it overturned the wagon.

The goblins were giving them no time to settle.

Joren watched another fresh Viridian group emerge beyond the tents.

"They do not look tired."

"They are not tired. They are fresh soldiers"

"You are certain?"

"I watched the afternoon formations. Those soldiers did not fight us then."

Joren stared toward them for a moment.

"So they brought more troops after dark."

"Enough to destroy our weakened forces."

The humans had spent the day fighting an enemy nearly twice their number and had reached night already exhausted. Now hundreds of fresh goblins were being fed into the camp against soldiers who could barely lift their shields.

Alaric turned toward the central defense.

"Do not let the men think about how many there are. Make them focus at the five goblins directly in front of them."

Joren gave a tired smile.

"That is easier said than done."

"Order it anyway."

The reorganized Caldris line began taking shape around the wagons. It was ugly but functional. Spears extended through gaps between carts.

Dismounted cavalrymen filled spaces left by infantry casualties. Crossbowmen remained behind the front and fired only when clear targets appeared. The wounded occupied the center with healers, ammunition crates, and whatever supplies had not already been moved.

The first fresh Viridian assault reached them minutes later.

The goblins tested the eastern face and immediately encountered a wall of spears.

Several died trying to close the distance. Rather than continue pushing into the strongest point, they withdrew and shifted north. Another formation appeared moments later along the opposite side.

Alaric saw the pattern.

"They are looking for the weakest section."

A nearby officer nodded.

"They refuse to stay where we can hold them."

"That is why we cannot hold this camp."

The crossbowmen temporarily became the most valuable part of the defense. With infantry too exhausted to move quickly between threats, concentrated volleys slowed every Viridian push long enough for Alaric to shift soldiers.

The humans no longer wasted bolts against distant shields. They waited until goblins approached through open spaces between wagons, then fired at close range.

The results were effective.

But they were also unsustainable.

A crossbow captain hurried toward Alaric carrying an almost empty case.

"Colonel, some sections are down to five or six bolts per man."

"How many remains in the wagons?"

"Not enough for another hour at this rate."

Alaric looked toward the western side of camp.

That was the opening they still possessed.

The goblins were attacking heavily from the east and north, but the western road had not been completely sealed. Whether that was because Viridian had failed to close it or deliberately wanted the humans pushed in that direction did not matter.

An open road was still an open road.

"Joren."

The captain moved closer.

"We start the withdrawal."

"Now?"

"Now!"

Joren looked toward the fighting.

"If the line heard the order, it may break."

"Then only the officers know until the wagons move."

Alaric pulled him closer to the map table that had been dragged beside the command wagon.

"Wounded go first. Every wagon that can still move goes west. Cavalry that still has horses escorts them. Mixed units that cannot hold formation follow next. Crossbowmen stay until the last possible moment. You take the strongest infantry and form the rear guard."

Joren looked at him.

"And you?"

"I stay until the main body is moving."

"No."

Alaric narrowed his eyes.

Joren continued before he could object.

"You are carrying the only complete account of what happened here. Eastwatch needs the commander who saw the battle, not another corpse left in a camp."

"I am not leaving before the wounded."

"I did not ask you to. I said you leave with the main body of our forceonce they are moving."

Alaric looked toward the darkness where Viridian soldiers were pressing another section of the perimeter.

He hated the logic because it was correct.

"Fine."

Joren nodded.

"Good."

Alaric called for the quartermaster.

"Anything that does not help a wounded man travel stays here."

The quartermaster looked toward several wagons.

"That includes food."

"Keep enough for the road. Leave the rest."

"Tools?"

"Leave them."

"Spare tents?"

"Burn them if there is time. Abandon them if there is not."

The quartermaster hesitated at the scale of what was being surrendered.

Alaric gave him no opportunity to argue.

"We are saving as many soldiers as possible. Miscellaneousitems should be discarded."

The orders spread quietly through the center.

Healers loaded the worst wounded into wagons. Soldiers threw aside crates of replaceable equipment to create more space.

Men who could walk were pulled from wagons and told to support one another on foot.

Remaining cavalry horses were assigned to scouts, messengers, and men badly wounded to march but still conscious enough to ride.

The first two wagons began rolling west.

No cheer accompanied them.

No horn announced the retreat.

They simply disappeared down the road under cavalry escort.

For the first time that night, Alaric felt something resembling hope.

Then the eastern line broke.

The collapse began with a single weakened section near two abandoned tents. A Viridian ranged volley struck the humans there just as fresh infantry pressed forward. One lieutenant went down, and the sergeant beside him disappeared beneath the melee moments later.

The humans behind them stepped backward.

The goblins pushed their advantage harder.

Within less than a minute, the gap widened enough for several Viridian groups to enter the central camp.

"Eastern breach!" someone shouted.

Joren was already moving.

He gathered thirty soldiers and drove toward the opening before Alaric could send another order.

The fighting became immediate and close. Humans used swords and axes because there was no room for long spears between wagons.

Their greater strength allowed them to throw goblins backward in individual encounters, but the darkness and cramped terrain prevented them from controlling or noticing who appeared beside or behind them.

Joren’s counterattack slowed the breakthrough.

But the hole in the defense did not close.

Another goblin formation entered through the same gap.

Alaric looked west.

More wounded wagons were moving now.

"Faster," he told the quartermaster. "We do not have time for order anymore. If it rolls, send it."

The cavalry commander arrived on foot.

"I have twenty-eight mounted soldiers still together."

"Escort the wagons."

"I can use them to hit the breach."

"No. Horses cannot maneuver between those tents. Get the wounded west."

The commander looked toward his remaining cavalry and understood that their role had changed completely. The force that had charged the Viridian flank hours earlier was now an evacuation escort.

He saluted and left.

The northern defense began failing next.

Viridian light infantry pushed through the abandoned outer camp and attacked a section composed mostly of mixed infantry and exhausted dismounted riders. The humans held briefly, then began stepping backward faster than their officers could control.

A crossbow volley covered them.

The last bolts from one company disappeared into the darkness.

The captain of that unit shouted that they were empty.

"Draw swords," Alaric ordered. "You are infantry men now."

The crossbowmen obeyed.

The central camp had become smaller by the minute.

Alaric could see Viridian soldiers moving between tents that had belonged to Caldris less than an hour earlier.

Fires had been overturned. Supplies lay scattered across the ground. Several wagons that could not move were simply abandoned where they stood.

A messenger reached him from the western road.

"Three wounded wagons are clear. Another five are moving. Scouts say the road remains open."

"Send the battlefield reports with the next group."

"The originals?"

"Copies and originals. Split them between two riders once they are far enough west."

The messenger saluted.

Viridian ranged troops suddenly shifted fire toward the road.

They had noticed.

A bolt struck the side of one departing wagon. Another hit the driver of a cart still inside the camp, forcing a soldier to climb into the seat and seize the reins.

Alaric understood the slow withdrawal was over.

The goblins knew what they were doing.

"General retreat," he ordered.

An officer beside him hesitated.

"Now?"

"Now, before there is nothing left to retreat."

The command spread through runners and shouted orders rather than horns. Alaric did not want one signal interpreted as permission for every soldier to turn and run at once.

"West in groups. Shields outward. Protect the wounded. Nobody leaves alone."

The first mixed infantry units began moving toward the road.

Some still held formation.

Others barely resembled companies anymore.

Joren returned from the eastern breach with fewer soldiers than he had taken.

"We cannot hold that side another ten minutes."

"You do not need ten. Form the rear guard."

Joren looked toward the retreating wagons.

"You are leaving with them."

"As soon as the center moves."

"Do not make me drag you."

Alaric almost laughed despite the situation.

"Just keep the goblins busy."

Joren turned away and began gathering the strongest soldiers still standing.

The collapse accelerated before the formation was complete.

A section to the north retreated without receiving the general order and collided with men moving west from the center. Several soldiers dropped shields because carrying them slowed their movement. An officer struck one man across the face and forced him back into line, but another simply disappeared into the darkness.

Alaric could no longer repair every failure.

He could only direct the surviving army toward the road.

The eastern breach widened.

The northern line bent inward.

Crossbowmen with no ammunition joined the infantry.

Healers climbed onto wagons already crowded with wounded soldiers.

The camp they had occupied after sunset had ceased to be a defensible position.

Alaric looked back once.

Fresh Viridian troops were moving through the outer tents while Joren’s improvised rear guard formed between them and the western road. Beyond the goblins, the distant fires of their main camp still glowed across the battlefield.

The Caldris counteroffensive had marched east expecting to push invaders from the province.

Now its surviving soldiers were abandoning food, equipment, tents, and dead comrades simply to escape with enough men to remain an army.

Alaric raised his sword toward the road.

"Leave the camp. Preserve as much life as possible."

The surviving formations began moving west while Joren and the rear guard turned to face the advancing goblins.

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