Toward evening, just as Chris secured victory, the heavens suddenly opened. A downpour so heavy that no one could see a hand before their face, arriving at the turn of autumn and winter, drenched everyone on the battlefield.
The storm caused Chris no end of trouble.
Rain poured down as though a hole had been torn between heaven and earth. Chris stood inside the hastily erected command tent, watching water seep through the canvas seams and gather into rivulets on the sand table, washing away the little flags marking friendly and enemy positions.
"Your Highness, the Third Infantry Regiment reports that two-thirds of their gunpowder has gotten wet!"
A messenger rushed in, soaked to the skin. So many messengers before him had tracked in mud and water that he slipped in front of the sand table.
Yet another piece of bad news.
Chris frowned and looked outside the tent.
Through the curtain of rain, soldiers were frantically covering the cannons with oilcloth. The wheels of a six-pounder field gun had sunk into the mud, and seven or eight gunners scurried around it like ants caught in a flood.
"Pass down the order: remove the cannons' wheels, then leave them be. They aren't going anywhere. And have the engineers start digging drainage ditches immediately!"
Chris grabbed his rainproof cloak and prepared to head out. He needed to check on the various units.
"Notify all units: stop pursuing the enemy and establish defensive camps where they are!"
The moment he stepped out of the tent, his boots sank half a foot into the mud.
Terrified whinnies came from the distance... The Heavy Cavalry players, the pride of the Han-Tang Warriors Battle Group, were struggling in the mire. Their priceless full horse armor had become a burden, weighing their mounts down until they