Cesidia passes him a soft smile, then presses her ear to the earth. “All clear.” She gets to her feet in a low crouch. She scans for any sign of prestige or royalty. “That must be the king’s tent,” she whispers, looking at a tent more lavish than the others. “Now we wait for chaos to ensue. They’ll be frantic to replace the supplies and men lost,” she continues in a hushed whisper.