The Iron Pass was a narrow, jagged throat of rock that choked the main northern road. It was a "Strategic Chokepoint"—the kind of place where a small, agile team could dismantle a massive, slow-moving corporation.
"The Crown Prince's infantry is three miles out," Bastian reported, his face flushed from the climb. He had been scouting with Valra's trackers. "They're moving in a standard column formation. Arrogant. They think the tribes have fled into the higher peaks."
"Arrogance is a 'Variable' we can exploit," I said, kneeling in the dirt and drawing a diagram with a sharp stone. Around us, the Kar-Thul warriors were busy. They weren't sharpening swords; they were preparing 'Disruptive Infrastructure.'
"Valra," I called out. The warrior woman appeared from the mist, her grey furs blending into the rock. "Is the 'Diversion' ready?"
