The wind swept across the dunes, acting as a harbringer for the storm. It did little to wipe the sweat from Dolosus' neck. In the distance the Imperial Order assembled their army, numbering around fifteen to twenty thousand. Their shields glinted in the sun. Dolosus looked behind him at the Union's army. Seven thousand soldiers regimented into companies by the mercenaries and kingdoms they represented. Behind them, the broken towers of Grenada rose and pierced the gathering storm clouds. Thunder rumbled.
Dolosus addressed his band: "We're going to have rain. Thank god! It won't bring food, though." He wiped the sweat from his brow, and placed his leather helmet on his head. "We're not going to split up into groups this time. We need to stick to together, and never seperate beyond fifty feet for any reason. I mean it. This isn't about payment any more, this is about surviving this seige. That means no heroics. Save your energy for the retreat." He pointed towards distant Grenada. "We'll head to Trench Camb Hashta once the first drops fall on the ground. I call out the order, and we retreat orderly and quickly."
He turned around and faced the Imperial Order.
"They look like ants from this far away. I wish they were that size, so we could crush them like bugs, eh?" He gave a weak smile, but nervousness penetrated his voice. "No matter! Jallas, how many arrows do you have?"
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