Snippet #1590271

"Yes, of course father, but we must take it all piece by piece. Is this not a discussion on how we are going to take this piece in particular?" The question his son asked rankled, stinking of a lack of confidence in his father. He could read the puzzlement upon his boy's face, his hand outstretched toward the map upon the table. The other men around the table looked on, half of them wishing they had the balls to question a statement of the King and the other half terrified of any kind of retribution were they to make any sort of noise at this moment. As with most meetings with the King, his brooding presence and glowering looks always served to create a thick tension.

"Do you take me for a fool, my son?" King Garro asked Osirin, leaning forward in his chair, his hand still gripping the pommel of his sword. "Is this my first war council? Is that wetness I feel behind my ears?" He offered, using his other hand to pretend to rub behind one of his ears. "Of course this is a discussion about pieces of land and of this piece in particular. This piece in particular," He said, gesturing towards the map, "Is of only half the importance of the next piece beyond it, and of only a quarter the importance of the piece beyond that. I would send as many men to their deaths as I need to in order to accomplish the final goal. Guarantee me the victories you've had in the past and I would send you to do this task." The King reached for his half empty goblet of wine and took a quick sip. "What all of you gathered here are doing is considering the two options. One, assault the plains and be ambushed, lose men but still win the day. Two, travel around the plains, avoid the ambush and lose precious time, thus allowing the Southern Kingdom to regroup and mount an attack on us." The King leaned back then, replacing his cup upon the arm of his chair.

"Option three. Send a third of the forces gathered for the assault on the plains down the middle to draw out the ambush. On both sides, I want the rest of the army to come around and close up behind the would-be ambushers. Crushing them." He said forcefully, closing his open hand into a curled fist. "Do this, and do this quickly, and we will have more... 'pieces'," he said with thinly veiled disgust, "Under my control."