General Gaul Macrabius looked over the battlefield, arranged in miniature on the table before him. From here, it looked so much neater than the real thing. The soldiers were represented by carved wooden tokens, the larger tokens indicating larger groups. The enemy Boudosian soldiers, made out of dark chestnut, were constantly being moved as scouting reports filed in. It wasn’t a neat process. The information they had was hours out of date by the time it arrived, and it wouldn’t be updated until another scout could be sent.
“…and if they keep moving at the same pace, they should be here by noon tomorrow,” the scout finished. The Boudosian tokens were slowly creeping towards the collection of alder tokens that represented the last few thousand Craiviran troops still alive under Macrabius’s command. The Boudosians numbered almost three times that number, and they were led by a capable and prescient commander, who had used tactics and force of arms to corner Macrabius’s army against a mountain range. Continue reading “The Fallen Blackbirds”