The thunderous blasts of Rade's new siege weapons resound all around you. You can feel it in your chest. It resounds deep inside of you, even through your new brigandine armor. The visor of your bascinet is lifted to better survey the ground.
You lay prone against the soil, peeking over the ridge at the battle unfolding. Six dozen rangers take cover with you.
Rade has deployed his army in nearly the same place that you had once crossed. eleven thousand, three hundred enemy infantry stand in great rows, waiting their turn. At the rear of his army, two dozen of these new siege weapons sit, steel barrels billowing smoke.
The rear of Rade's army is dangerously close, only two hundred yards away, just barely within a crossbow's killing range.
Enemy knights, nearly six hundred in total, ride their horses on the flanks. You can barely see the rear of a force of dismounted armored soldiers, shields interlocked, marching into the jungle.
Three large, sturdy bridges cover over the small river you had crossed earlier. It seems as if Rade has learned that particular lesson from Nado.
The ranger citendent crawls up beside you and readies his crossbow. He's wearing a mask of grim determination as he says, "Groups two through five are all set. They attack on your signal."
You nod. And then you stand up.
You draw your blade and raise the cold steel to the sky.
In the Kroridian tongue, you cry…