ATTACK - I
Kael stood outside his tent, staring into the mist as if he could already see the clash to come.
Behind him, the army stirred to life men pulling on armor, grooms saddling restless horses, blacksmiths hammering final adjustments into blades and lances.
It was the kind of quiet chaos that came before the storm.
Gerald appeared by his side, clutching a leather-bound ledger, his face drawn tight with exhaustion. "The men are ready, my lord. Supplies are distributed, and the horses are well-fed."
Kael turned to him, his tone measured. "Alexander?"
"In the southern lines, making final checks on the cavalry wings. He's pushing hard for discipline. Says there's no room for mistakes."
Kael's lips curled faintly at the mention of Alexander.
The man was a hard taskmaster, but he was what the cavalry needed a firm hand to guide them through the storm.
"Good," Kael said simply, his gaze returning to the mist.
He could feel it.