Some of the snow had melted that morning, exposing several wheel ruts on the slope along the western stretch of the Post Road.
Cohen stood on high ground, crouched down, and took a map from his sleeve to check the route one last time.
"According to their schedule, the supply wagons will pass through here. We burn the lead wagon, kill them all, and seize the grain."
Sarik said nothing. He and a dozen others gathered nearby, carrying barrels of oil and packing brushwood beside the road into cover.
Only a few of these people had followed Sarik from the beginning.
Back then, there had been fewer than five of them. They met secretly at night, not daring even to light a fire, and spoke only in the dark.
Their numbers had slowly grown. Sarik had sought some of them out; others had heard rumors, come looking for him, and stayed of their own accord.
Cohen watched these diligent people before him, yet felt no anticipation of completing his mission.
This ambush had little chance of success. Even if it worked, they could truly destroy no more than a few grain wagons.
Red Tide would not lose its footing over such a small loss. It had far too many grain convoys.
But Cohen's goal was not really to destroy anything. He merely wanted people to believe something had happened here.
It was not about Red Tide being bombed, nor about the Barbarians winning. It was about letting everyone know that "the surrendered Barbarians had struck" and "Red Tide had begun killing Barbarians."
Once word spread, what little trust remained would shatter completely.
Once the people in Border Guard Village began guarding against one another, the illusion of barbarian self-governance would crumble.
That was their true goal.
Cohen tucked the map