Rooting Out Traitors Within

The most striking sight in the Duchy Army's camp was a huge marching tent with an extravagantly furnished interior.

It was like a palace on the move, spacious enough to hold a large gathering and a display of the Duchy Army's power and prestige.

Now the tent was brightly lit, and a solemn hush hung over it.

The Duchy Army's legion commanders had gathered there, each with his trusted officers close behind. They sat around an elegant round table, their faces grave.

Perhaps because the meeting had run late into the night, fine food and drink had been set before everyone. Apart from a few exceptions, though, no one had any appetite.

Viscount Borey stood straight beside an enormous map near the table. His piercing gaze swept across every face before he broke the deathly silence. "Gentlemen, the Northern Alliance Army has cut off our supply line and our route of retreat!"

"At this critical moment, speak freely. Let us work out a response together."

But a suffocating heaviness filled the tent, as though even the air had gone still.

The battle-hardened legion commanders pressed their lips together and said nothing. Their trusted officers looked even more uneasy, trembling as if one wrong word might cost them their lives.

Tensions within the Duchy Army had been running high. People were often punished for saying the wrong thing. Just yesterday, Viscount Borey had ordered a captain of the Imperial Guard Legion flogged thirty times for complaining about poor command. The man had nearly died.

After a long silence, Count Kimberly saw that his friend's question had brought the meeting to a standstill. The atmosphere had grown awkward.

He decided to help Viscount Borey break the deadlock and loosen things up.

"For now, our supplies are still in fairly good shape!

"The