With a blank, empty gaze at the map, Qyptos glanced at the servant, and wrinkled his nose at the porridge. 'Begone.' He commanded, and without a mere moment, the servant was gone, and so was the food. I have no intention to eat this shit while there are two armies marching at my door. Two armies from two sides at Thrycetun. He had to know their answer, too. Mayhaps, they will see Pelatarian and Attolian armies, and surrender. Heh, that would be perfect. 

He looked up from the map onto Jonah and Damon, and nodded with an acknowledgement of their presence, along the table painted into a myriad of colors were seated other commanders, but the only one of significance enough to be recognized by Qyptos was Akyptos, clad in his jerkin adorned with red lace, on his back was a great cloak of House Takhar. He dresses up as if he's crowned emperor, Qyptos thought, sending a peculiar, disapproving look at Akyptos. 'I welcome you to my lands, and under my roof.' He lifted a goblet of wine. It was good enough, approximately five years old and harsh on the tongue.

Jonah lifted his own goblet to match the toast, and Damon quickly followed suit. Jonah was adorned in his set of steel battle armor, sans the helmet. A gold band across each of his shoulders signified him as the Pelatarian Commander. The outfit was simple, yet powerful; almost an exact description of Peterus himself. Damon, too, chose the spartan approach, opting for a quality silk tunic of simple design. Jonah stood, and bowed his head out of respect to Lord Qyptos.
"We thank you for the warm welcome, my Lord." Returning to his seat, he turned his head to address the group as a whole. "It is no secret that this rebellion affects everyone west of Bernwick," he admitted, referring to the Church's seat of power located in Central Lundland. "Lord Cole wishes for it to be put down at once and your realm once again at peace - and I am here to assist in that goal any way in which I can."

Qyptos nodded. 'Good. My scouts report that an army of four hundred Immortals, three hundred light cavalry, two hundred crossbowmen, and two hundred fifty raider cavalry had arrived in Thrycetun. Their intent is to take the manor.' He took a long swallow of the harsh, sour wine. 'What I need is that your armies attack them. Good?' He sent a thoughtful gaze into the depths of his goblet's contents, then back at Jonah and Damon.

Jonah considered this information thoughtfully, before responding. "My Lord, our army is well equipped and trained, but we number only five hundred. And though your report indicates that their troops are primarily light skirmishers and cavalry, they would overwhelm us with numbers alone. We can fight them and will, but we require reinforcements - either from Attolia or any loyal Sellafour soldiers - or we will face utter defeat."

Damon, listening intently the entire time, finally spoke up. "Pelaterian troops will be coming up from the south, through rebel-controlled Yedarbahan, and then through Freebird. We will have to rely on poor or delayed communication between the two rebel factions - after all, they share no land border. We may be able to take them by surprise, and flank them should Attolia attack from the east, or your own troops attack from Islemonster or Copperstream." Jonah nodded, adding:
"If our troops can drive them back north, your own could halt any plan of retreat."

Qyptos grimaced, his sullen eyes scanning first Jonah, then Damon. Qyptos had a bad impression of Jonah, who, it seems, used too many sweet words. Damon, on the other hand, seemed clever. Yuragos was mostly quiet, gazing at the map. It was an empty gaze, his eyes showed no emotions, it seemed he was a dead man in fancy rags, staring at painted paper. Yuragos cocked his head. 'You should hit them in the flank, we'll move out the majority of our army.' Qyptos once again grimaced, turning his gaze at his heir. Cocky, but good enough. He nodded, once more sending an eerie stare at the Pelatarian guests, his eyes pale as curdled milk.

Jonah and Damon both nodded in agreement, one delayed only by a mere second or two of the other. The plan of attack was coming together well - provided that all actually goes according to plan. Though the odds were placed in the coalition's favor, another variable introduced could shift the balance. Taking a moment's pause, Jonah then continued. "Additionally, as you already know, our fleet is en route to the rebel stronghold in order to start a blockade. We expect little resistance at sea, if any. Am I right to conclude that the rebels would not likely have any naval forces?"

'Aye, the bastards are sly enough to even hire so much men. But they won't have any ships.' He drained his goblet, and pushed it to the center of the table. His court jester, Banan, jumped around in his suit of yellow, a smile glowing on his pale, old, wrinkled face. Qyptos' sullen eyes pierced deep into the fool's face, and he gestured him to begone, to which he obliged. 'The rebels dance to the devil's song! The righteous ruler, the r-o-o-ler!' he shouted as he left. Who taught him that? Aky or Yura, no doubt. Although Akyptos was a brilliant soldier, and a rider of some repute. Akyptos was a quiet, but a proud, arrogant, nay, cocky lad. Qyptos didn't like him. He was his mother's child. Time to learn, Aky. Mayhaps you'll go to war, soon.

[Collaboration With FortunesFaded, thanks mate.]