Rainwater streamed down the edges of the tent canvas, hammering a row of puddles into the muddy ground.
Veylin entered the command tent and casually set the rain-soaked letter on the long table covered with a parchment map.
The letter clung to the tabletop, its wet surface reflecting the uncertain faces gathered inside the tent.
Diana, Ola, Caroline, and several senior officers of the Grey Sea Alliance stood around the table.
"The prince can't hold out much longer."
Veylin unfastened his damp collar, walked up to the map, and picked up a pointer, drawing a heavy circle around Brintanhe Fortress.
"Hector has drawn on reserves he spent years building up. He's deployed a powerful kind of construct, and it's eating away at the Brintanhe fortress complex bit by bit. Prince Wilander's message is clear-he intends to make himself the last stone plugging that breach."
[A warrior is the bulwark of the city-state.]
Diana's brow furrowed. She picked up the letter, her eyes passing over the proverb.
"Then we need to accelerate our offensive." Diana moved her finger to Blackrock County on the map. "Once we break through here, our army can drive straight in, cut off Hector's supply lines, and outflank him..."
"I'm afraid we don't have time."
Veylin shook his head and jabbed at Blackrock County, raising a bump in the parchment.
"With Blackrock County's terrain, we can't move any faster just because we're in a hurry. Every step forward costs lives. By the time we crack that hard nut, the Royal Capital may already have changed hands."
"Then what are you suggesting?" Caroline looked up, catching the flash of resolve in Veylin's eyes, concern written across her face.
"We fly over."
Veylin tossed aside the pointer and planted both hands on the edge of the table, leaning forward