------
Darin sighs deeply. It's not what he wanted. It's not what he wanted at all.
He wanted to talk about The War. About Arthur Hornraven's… cutting.
I'm not very good at this, Darin thinks, chuckling grimly.
But it's been a long day. It's been a long few months.
It's been a long life.
He needs to rest.
Still, Darin makes a solemn promise to the Marshal.
I will not let you spiral like I once did.
He steps to the window, watching the storm pound the earth below.
I won't let you die.
Next Chapter
Chapter 8 - Here Be Dragons
Krorid is a country of twisted, dark pathways through a choking jungle.
Without the help of your rangers and locals, you would have no chance of navigating with your army. Six thousand, seven hundred men march in your column, each with their own equipment. Those with heavier armor or horses are even more bogged down.
No man wears his armor. While marching, few ever do. But in such heat and under such rain, marching in armor is even more impractical.
Rangers lead the way, hacking back the brush and foliage that clogs the pathways. You join them in this process, if only to occupy your mind and keep it from drifting. Elya and Velinor lead at the head of the column.
Progress is painstakingly slow. A march which would take a single man on foot three days stretches into its ninth.
Your army approaches one of the few landmarks inside the green hell. A landmark you are all too familiar with.
"We're here," you mutter.
One of the younger rangers glances up at you. "What?"
"Alverton," you reply grimly.
Next
There's little left of the Kantonian settlement. Only hints of its existence can be seen.
The clearing it once occupied has been almost completely consumed by the jungle. The steep plateau is now choked with overgrowth.
The foliage here is so dense, it's impassable. Your army will need to make a shallow turn to the east in order to avoid it.
Try as you might, you can't see any sign of the town that used to be here. No mangled skeletons extend undead hands through the soil. What hasn't been burnt has been invaded by nature.
But you know the truth. You know that nearly the entire town lies beneath the soil, joined by almost half of the Erisian army.
Grass grows taller with bodies beneath the soil.
Next
Two more days of marching have passed by.
On the midday of the third, you reach your destination.
It's a small clearing, not large enough to hold your entire army. According to the rangers, it used to be a large lumber camp that has now been mostly retaken by the jungle.
The horses take priority. They need room to graze.
Meanwhile, the troops pitch their tents.
You stand at the very edge of the clearing, overseeing the proceedings with your arms folded.
The ranger citendent approaches you from behind. He says, "Marshal. We've eyes on the Butcher again. Six hours east. The rebels are clearing out part of the forest. They've already fortified the perimeter of the jungle."
You nod. "Do you still have men out there?"
"Yes, Marshal."
"Good. Keep them on patrol. I want eyes on his men at all times."
"Understood."
Next
------
A grim smile spreads over Rade's face.
"If you expect me to kill him, I'll require extra," the ranger says.
The two men converse inside Rade's personal command tent. Outside, his army continues to prepare itself. Ten days earlier, his reinforcements arrived. Four thousand new souls placed under the rebel's command.
With these new men, Rade's army now numbers eleven thousand, three hundred strong.
Rade pauses and considers the ranger's offer. The risk may be too great. The Marshal has already fought off one attempt. Odds are he'll just kill this spy, too.
"No. You are to keep him alive. The quartermaster, on the other hand? Kill him, if you can. Otherwise, continue reporting to me."
The young man nods. "Aye, sire."
"Then go. Return to their ranks before they suspect you."
The ranger bows, turns around, and departs from Rade's tent.
Rade stares out at the jungle's edge from his tent.
Cornered. Rats in a maze.
Next
You're sitting among the common soldiery. Velinor and the ranger citendent, along with several veterans are relaxing with you. The midday sun has been choked away by the clouds of the incoming evening storm.
The storm is coming.
But for now, you may remain in the open. Now, you're sitting next to a smoldering campfire where meat is being roasted. Birds and snakes caught by the rangers, as well as fruit picked from the trees, help supplement rations.
"Truthfully, Inae Dirriman, I despise war," an aged veteran says. The Kroridian doesn't seem entirely fit for combat, wearing an eyepatch over a missing eye and using a cane to support himself.
"Then why the hell are you here, gov'nor?" a second soldier asks.
"'Cause if I don't help our own army, I'm gonna be forced to help someone else's," he replies.
Velinor laughs. "I's a hunter by trade. War's jus' like huntin' in a way. And I enjoy huntin'."
"What about you, Marshal?" one of the veterans asks, abruptly pulling you into the conversation. You snap out of your thoughts and turn to him.