"Send them in," Zilan said. His voice was soft, almost velvety. It was a noise that slithered from a man's ear and around his neck, threatening to choke him. Even the attendant that knew him so well, and was able to endure his abuse for hours on end each day, still did not manage to suppress his grimace when Zilan spoke to him in such a tone.
A red flag was raised, with golden tatters flying off the end of it. It bore the image of a chariot on it. It was an order that General Zilan had given so often, that he deigned it appropriate to have flags of its own embroidered.
Though there were dozens of Generals in the Verna, and though the chariot was meant to be their national weapon, a symbol of their military might, few could have professed to use them as effectively as General Zilan had over his decades of warring.
