Dalca was standing next to the large table where the map had been laid out. The map of catastrophy, so her inner thought. Not because it was of bad quality, but because it was of so good quality that the severity of their situation was all too obvious. The young, curvy woman had been one of the first to go down the stairs. What was the point of attending to a briefing when you weren't able to see the object of interest the highest ranks were talking about because there were people in front of you ? The ones who happened to let their glance range across her appearance would notice how she was scanning the parchment, one of her elbows held horizontally in belly-height to act as a support for the other arm whose fisted hand her chin was resting on.

She didn't say anything though. First of all she felt that her plans might not be fully fledged yet. Secondly, there was a question pending for Reinhardt. It would probably be considered impolite to interrupt this with own comments, even if it meant that there was a bit of silence.

Her giant brother didn't have such worries. He wasn't of high rank, so he wasn't down there with them. Instead, he was plodding through the extensive camp around the church. The general arousal had gotten him out of the improvised dining tent, he knew that it was the eve of battle. He knew that he likely wouldn't be able to sleep, so he had already strapped himself into the major parts of his gear. The decision of sending the Templars dead ahead into battle was far from reaching his ears, but wasn't this the order's usual approach ? Seis had to arrange for a suitable horse for that, so the man was on the lookout for someone who would actually be willing to give him one.

[@FallenTrinity]