The Chaos forces had not launched a large-scale counterattack because the Three Great Legions had kept to guerrilla warfare, always slipping away. The demons had stayed in the rear to buy time, while the Ratfolk had pulled back their main force and avoided battle, leaving only stragglers to play cat and mouse with the Empire.
This time was different. An urgent report said that after occupying Old Val Town, the Empire had opened a Portal and sent in large numbers of workers to build fortifications.
Olmedo pointed at the War Map and told Annan that Old Val Town backed onto the Graypeak Mountains. Once the Empire established a foothold there, the Graypeak Mountains, including Hell Mountain, and the plains ahead would fall within its sphere of influence. That would carve away a sizable piece of the pie.
The Northern Chaos Forces, which already held the Northern Frontier and had designs on Middle Earth, could not accept that. There was no confirmed intelligence yet, but the northern Ratfolk could be expected to pour toward them like mad.
For most people in Middle Earth, though, it was welcome news.
War meant death. It also meant glory.
Some made their names; others became piles of excrement. Bloodlines meant nothing in war. A prince needed no more sword thrusts to kill than a commoner, and a general could not survive having his head cut off.
War was fair. It granted death to every participant without prejudice.
Annan looked out the window as the first bolt of lightning split the sky. Thunder rumbled faintly through the clouds.
Free City's rainy season had arrived.
At Old Val Town, workers busily poured cement over the ruined city walls.
Within a day, it would set as hard as rock. For every centimeter the walls rose, the Ratfolk