"Vian, let's go take a look."
Pamir tugged at Vian, excitement written all over his face.
"Look at what? The commander gave us a job."
Vian sighed helplessly.
He had joined the army too, specifically to keep an eye on this kid.
Although Vian held him back, Pamir still clung to a wooden post and peered through the gaps.
On the open ground below the gentle slope, the Feilie Army was forming ranks.
"Bwooo..."
At the sound of the horn, a group of purple-skinned orcs drove a large suicide squad of refugees, prisoners, and slaves slowly forward. The other units coordinated with them, advancing together in a battle formation of over a thousand men.
They moved barely faster than an old woman out for a stroll. By the look of things, it would be quite some time before they actually made contact.
Pamir muttered, "So this is what real fighting looks like. It feels so boring."
Vian said, "Are you stupid? Untrained laborers get tired after running a few miles, never mind carrying weapons and wearing armor. Did you really think two groups just charge at each other and start fighting?"
"Then why aren't they shooting arrows? The mages in the back haven't started casting either."
"You think arrows and spells don't cost money? Of course they'll wait until they're sure before unleashing a volley."
The two chatted idly. Only after a long wait did the armies ahead finally approach each other and begin fighting under the prodding of their blocking detachments.
Pamir finally began to feel his blood stir, only to discover that this was merely a probing attack.
After each side suffered several injuries, they withdrew under cover of their main forces and sent another unit out to confront the enemy.
The scene was nowhere near as intense