"I would like to think so," Penelope said. "But I'm not so sure age leads to wisdom amongst the Syndran nobility, unfortunately. Until we see the enemy, and count their numbers, I cannot be truly sure. What do you think, Vol?"
Vol grinned a smile, showing all his teeth. "They're in over their heads."
He could just begin to see the tents of the enemy sitting down below the hill, shielded from view by a good treeline, and an even steeper cliff beyond it. Their numbers seemed to be – even just at a glance – far more overwhelming than those belonging to Maskem.
"Hohh, those are a lot of tents," Tian said.
"A thousand men, do you suppose, if we were to choose a round number?" Harland asked.
"I would be in agreement with you there, just based on the tents," Vale said. "But from the look of the battlefield, they must have already been fighting for a number of days… Surely this Maskem hasn't held his ground with 250 men from the start?"
