The regiment moved double time, the ground unable to decide between sand and shrubland. Sandals, hooves, and armored boots made a thudding chant as Brasidas moved them forward, having consulted with Sayf on the ground ahead. Phaedra galloped to her column after their brief war council, her sword raised in the air as she screamed in her language to her officers. He had to give it to her, she moved as quick as Sayf on her steed and that was saying something. No wonder the nomad chased after her.

Brasidas had felt a sinking feeling in his gut ever since the boasting of the envoy, fearing the fool had been honest, even with his forked tongue. The Atvari were a noble people, but their political dealings and circles of diplomats and petty barons were known for being a veritable den of snakes. He had tried to push it in the back of his mind to concentrate on commanding his men, but if that were true, there would be anarchy at the capital. His entire command and the lives of his men would be in question, and certainly not in that order. At the moment he didn't know where else to lead his men save for the coast, even if he would have to besiege the cities or negotiate with them himself. As it was, all he wanted to do was paint the ground in Atvari blood. 

It looked like he was going to get his chance this day. 

The sky was clear blue, save small mounds of clouds that lazily passed overhead. The miles went bu quickly, but always they looked over their shoulder. It was not long before a mass of darkly clad horsemen appeared, streaming in from the distance. Even so far away, Brasidas was impressed at their cohesion. It was nearly as good as his cataphract contingent. Unfortunately, it outnumbered his Cataphracts five to one, and though the full imperial army they rode at the head of was still slightly larger than the Kahreeds, it would be bogged down until the greater army arrived to swallow them up and butcher every last one of them. 

Over the next mile, the army found the large, dried river bed Sayf had told him of. This would be the battleground. Behind them the ground was relatively flat, sloping lightly upwards in small rifts of earth, echoes of what might have once been dunes. Across the way, a few trees and shrubs sprouted up in small copses, likely gaining access to whatever moisture gathered in the riverbed whenever the rain decided to fall. As the Protostates and Cataphracts approached, Brasidas called for the men to move ahead toward what was once a ford, and he sent his cavalry across the deeper section, leading them towards the Protostate's left flank. As the Kahreeds approached, it all rode on keeping them occupied until the main army arrived, not to destroy them. Not yet. 

It was going to be easy. The Kahreeds would want to fight with their main force regardless, at least in a concerted attack. They continued their gallope toward the line, eager for at least some bloodshed to gain loot and glory.