The night was nearing its end, and in a few hours, darkness would give way to dawn. In the mountainous terrain, the main border between the central continent and the southern continent, an army was camped in one of the valleys that connected the central continent to the southern continent.
The exhaustion visible on the face of each soldier would awaken compassion even in the vilest of men. The difficulty of maintaining the army's supply line amid the rugged and uphill terrain not only made it hard to get proper food, but the immense geographical disadvantage also caused excessive stress for the soldiers.
The question was not whether the enemies would attack. Given such a strategic advantage, the question was when. The bonfires scattered around the camp did not serve their purpose well, as the fire did not eliminate the cold of fear of a sudden attack.
Each soldier cursed and swore at the commander's name every now and then. It was obvious even to those of the lowest rank what the HQ's plan was, influenced by the pompous noble who resided in the central command tent.
— I still think the gamble is too big, Lord Arvyn. The risk of being massacred here is greater than the chance of catching the enemy off guard. We should break camp and, even with torches, risk moving forward. — The perfectly tuned voice of Lord Telos sounded with the wisdom of someone who had won several battles. Like the other minor lords present, he found it too risky to continue this war, disregarding the pain of someone as powerful as Khaled. To be a master in any elemental discipline was more than achieving a high level of prestige.
The elemental masters were the final authority in their respective areas of study and expertise. The power they wielded caused shivers even in the royalties of the entire supercontinent.
— There's no reason to worry, Lord Telos. It has been proven that the poisoned blade that killed the master of life came from the fief of Yam. This means that Khaled will soon unleash his wrath upon them.
The optimistic noble, who was unscrupulously more than willing to use a master's pain for his personal agenda, was Lord Arvyn, the minor lord of the Gofer fief. Gofer was directly responsible for more than seventy percent of the towers and catapults. Their arsenal, based on Gofer wood, was top-of-the-line material and extremely valuable, even for the central continent.
The various minor lords gathered, however much they disagreed with Lord Arvyn, had neither the prestige nor the position in the room to go against the nobility. They could only comply, being grateful for at least being warned in advance.