The night was deep, and it was uncertain when and where this was.
Soldiers carrying spears and muskets gasped for breath as they followed their comrades at a quick march.
On the other side of the road, horses laden with armor took up space, occasionally causing an out-of-control horse to break into the marching column, prompting a wave of exclamations and curses.
"This won't do," Bard surveyed the people around him, furrowing his brow into a knot, "The leading companies are almost at Saint Town, and the militia from the back haven't even left Niutigu Valley. There's nothing to eat, nothing to drink. Soldiers can't find the ammunition wagons, and the packhorse teams can't find the soldiers."
Winters, holding a lantern, marked the map in silence.
Present were two formal officers and all the company-level commanders and militia-appointed captains that could be summoned.
Everyone knew that a forced march at night was dangerous, but was it possible to go slowly?
