[h2][color=WhiteSmoke]Andronika Hasikos: Western Empire Camps, Near the City of Elvesland[/color][/h2]

There was going to be a battle.  It was a certainty at this point.  Andronika's white Army, with all the support they had so far, numbered no more than 4,000 troops, a tiny number next to the 32,000 that Orrian had at his command.  Orrian's troops were some of the finest elgafolk and men she had seen.  Skyborn Lancers made up the core of his force, supported by squadrons of Sahalky riders, many of whom were still armed with primitive bows.  He had some Owned Men in his army, though most of his foot were less Pobryn regiments from the mountains in the North and far West of the Empire.

Voron's Army, which Scouts had told was nearby numbered close to 50,000, nearly entirely Owned Men with few elgafolk amongst them save for the officers.  Most of his troops were on foot with steady Harquebussiers on the wings.

Vassos told her that Voron's foot were stronger but there was no Cavalry in the world that was the equal the Lancers.

The door to her tent stirred and she looked up from her brooding in her armchair, hoping to find Kreznik there, but istead it was the blonde, mustachioed elgamann chieftain who seemed to be the one who did the machinating for Orrian - Arel Elmys, "Your Highness, he greeted her politely, no sleep before the big day?"

She stood, offering a respectful curtsey, motioning for Arel to join her in the other chair, though he waved the gesture down, apparently not planning to stay long, "Unlikely.  We are somewhat outnumbered from what my scouts tell me."

He gave a nonchalant shrug, "We were at Lysfelt as well, and we still drove Voron off the field.  He had four men for every three of ours then.  He has four men for every three of ours today.  We will prevail.  And what is more he has every soldier he can muster here, to oppose us.  If we destroy this army like we did his last one, Voron will be dealt a mighty blow."

The comment, along with the elgamann's calm demeanor gave her a moderate degree of confidence... "Though the same could be said for both the Emperor and me," Andronika pointed out.

"What do you call that card came the Mittelvolk play - [i]Pochspiel[/i]?" Arel asked, "Well, if we were playing that, I would say that we are all 'all in'."  He paused momentarily before adding, "Our long-term strategy is reliant on you rallying the Mittelvolk to our cause.  The Lancers are the finest soldiers to ever live, but they are not easily replaced and if this war drags on we will have fewer and fewer of them to field.  That is provided we win of course."

"My men will stand," Andronika assured him, hoping that they would.  Vassos seemed to think they were decent-enough soldiers, if unblooded for the most part.  

"I pray they will... now, try to get some sleep," Arel said, "Fretting over the outcome will change nothing.  We have been dealt our cards, so has Voron, and we must play the hand we have... but you can control if you are well rested tomorrow or tired... Your Highness."  He offered a polite bow before leaving the tent again.

Andronika folded her arms behind her back, pacing back and forth in the tent.  If they could destroy Voron's army it would mean the release of countless slaves and Andronika becoming much more powerful in her own right... though a lot of people would have to die for that.  Freedom, it seemed, required blood.