The tension had run rampant throughout the camp. From the smithies repairing armor to the chefs preparing the night's meal, everyone felt the low tremor of anticipation amongst the troops. Would they have to fight? Would the rebels somehow sneak past the outer defenses and launch an attack? Would they consider peace?
Jamie studied the map before him, secluded behind the coal black screens of the command tent. The Rosendahl's right thumb and forefinger gently rubbed his chin as he drew lines and symbols with his mind, visualizing the troop movements across Narlas. A soft rustle interrupted the Rosendahl's silent vigil.
"Everything alright, sir?"
As per usual, Mortibus was alert and at the ready, his crimson and navy surcoat neat and even underneath his plate curiass. Jamie offered his guardsmen a brief smile in response.
"As I'm certain you've noticed, everyone's a bit on edge at the moment. But that's to be expected."
"Nothing out of the ordinary, then. Good."
"Good indeed."
In the distance, Ulric's voice cut through the quiet of the night. Dressed in a fashion identical to Mortibus, he had spent the last hour drilling a small group of levymen, picking out any large faults and correcting any technical issues. Soon, Mortibus was set to relieve him, directing a separate group in another exercise. It was unusual for the troops to train so frequently while on campaign, but it was something to keep their nerves at bay.
"Lucien's been informed, correct?"
"Yes sir."
"And our men are set to cross Fidston."
"Yes sir."
"Anything we're missing?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
Jamie bobbed his head in satisfaction. Admittedly, the Rosendahl troops had mobilized long ago, but Jamie couldn't stop the worry that he had failed to relay the message from unfurling in his belly. Mortibus, patient as he was, had weathered the repeated questions without complaint, simply responding with a curt affirmation that eased the Rosendahl's mind. A hand slipped through the folds of the command tent, gently parting the lips before Ulric, small beads of sweat dotting his forehead, emerged from the dark.
"Evening, my lord. As you probably gathered, we've finished drilling for the evening. There were no issues, besides a few weapons that needed repairing and a proper cleaning. Men have already been set to the task."
"Good. Do you think we're ready to proceed?"
"I do, sir."
"Then there's no reason to delay it."
The weary general stepped back from the war table, briefly covering his face with a palm. He took a moment to settle the anxiety churning within him before removing his hand, revealing a solemn and composed visage. Jamie reached for the wineskin just nearby, taking a long sip before capping it and tossing it aside.
"Both of you, inform the officers. We march tonight."
@plasmaassassin @Depo08722
