Deployed Soldier stood in front of an army of 100,000 men with his hands folded behind his back. He had long since stopped being a mere Private that was expendable on the battlefield.
He had worked his way up to become a true General of a Field Army, a task previously thought impossible for a male in the matriarchal continent of Vasto.
He stood atop a small stage erected on his side of the battlefield, which was located in open plains that seemed to go on for miles. The grass was green and very lush, but Deployed Solider knew that it would be painted red very soon.
Opposite his troops was another Field Army of about the same size, led by a woman clad in red medium armor. She was on a horse, and her army was still arranging themselves on the battlefield since they had arrived far later.
Soon, the place became quiet. Both groups were staring each other down, killing intent and the will to battle emanating from each side like a whirlwind.
