"Commander, are you in here?" Varda asked from beyond the tent flap.
"Come in," I called.
I had just finished reviewing the reports sent to me by our kobold spies in the region. Things were looking dire by the second.
Varda entered the tent and strolled over to where I sat at the head of the wooden expedition table we lugged around whenever we sortied.
"You look more troubled than when I left you, Commander," she noted as she sat on the seat to my right with her feet dangling just an inch above the floor.
"War's starting early," I said before pointing to the scattered papers on the table. "The skirmishes along the borders of the Westersand desert have stopped…"
"Isn't that a good thing?" Varda asked.
I shook my head. "It means they're unnecessary now… both sides are pulling back to get ready for the big one."
Varda tapped on the table with her fingers. "How big are we talking, Commander?"
