"I suppose it's different for a civil war than a foreign war regardless…" Oliver murmured. "A winter campaign has the problem of supplies, but the lands we currently sit in, they're ours, filled with our own supplies… That is, until word of our war is announced, and those same supply stores are put to the torch."
It was a thing of mess, Oliver thought. He felt the fear throb in him as he acknowledged it all. He thought fear to be the only appropriate reaction to it, especially when he was held right at the head of such an army – so many thousands of men, with peasantry, that could very well just be called civilians, for that was what they were.
