In stark contrast to the calm, efficient atmosphere of decision-making at Carnford headquarters, beneath the enormous White Wolf King Banner of the Sauron central army, the air was oppressive as the dead stillness before a storm. Anxiety, the stench of defeat, and a trace of barely perceptible fear hung in the air.
"Report—Your Majesty!" A Sauron Cavalry officer, covered in blood and grime, his helmet nowhere to be seen, stumbled and crawled his way beneath the royal banner. His voice cracked with tears and despair. "General Ivar... General Ivar... has fallen! Our central cavalry... has suffered a crushing defeat! The White Wolf Guard... has taken horrific casualties and no longer has any coherent formation!"
"Report—! Lord Svein at Village No. 2 has sent another urgent plea! Carnford's offensive is ferocious. Our casualties are immense, the defensive line has been breached in multiple places, and he begs Your Majesty to dispatch reinforcements at once!"
"Report—! From the direction of Village No. 5, Lord Asgeir reports that the enemy's resistance is extraordinarily stubborn. Our forces have broken into the village repeatedly, only to be driven back each time. Casualties are severe, and progress is slow!"
"Your Majesty! Carnford's central army is steadily advancing. Their vanguard has already engaged our forward forces. General Gron requests reinforcements to stabilize the center!"
Bad news came flying in like snowflakes, each more fatal than the last.
The veins on Harald's forehead bulged. Even the fingers gripping his sword hilt trembled faintly. With one savage kick, he overturned the wooden stand holding the crude map before him and roared, "Trash! A pack of useless fools, every last one of you! I gave you the finest warriors and the richest rewards, and this is how you repay me?! Ivar threw away my guard cavalry! Svein can't hold a