The war drums had not yet sounded, but their echoes lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken tension. Hull's decision had been made, and the warlords who once stood divided now prepared for the storm ahead.
Lucian and I had spent the morning in the council chamber, going over strategies with my father and the warlords. Maps were sprawled across the long wooden table, detailing every potential route, every vulnerable border.
It was a game of patience and calculation. One wrong move, and everything we had fought for would crumble.
"We should move our forces to the southern border now," Aedric argued, tapping a finger against the inked line marking Ashary's approach. "If Ashary is truly mobilizing, we cannot afford to wait for their attack. We strike first."
My father grunted, arms crossed over his broad chest.
"And if we move too soon? If this is a feint, and they have another force waiting in the east? Hull does not have the numbers to fight on two fronts."
