His thoughts were interrupted when Hadrian Kempten burst through the tent flaps.
"Van! What's happening out there? The men are panicking! Half the nobles are talking about fleeing to the south!"
Van's expression twisted with fury. "Flee? Do they think Ryntum will just let them run?"
"There is a plan!" Van slammed his fist on the table. "We'll draw them in, make them think we're collapsing. Then we hit their flanks with everything we have left. The remaining knights are still fresh. If we time it right, we might cripple their advance long enough to retreat in order!"
Hadrian's eyes flicked to the shaking map, then to Van's face. "'Might'? You're gambling everything on a 'might'?"
"We've been gambling since the day this war started. At least now, I'm choosing the terms."
Outside, the roar of cannons reached a fever pitch. The screams of men and the crash of collapsing defences echoed through the howling wind.
