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General Umber, second in the order of Red Ghosts, Slayer of Tigers, and Lord of the Eastern Reaches handled the spyglass as if it were a sleeping Anaconda, ready at any moment to wrap it's coils about his neck and squeeze. Peering cautiously into the lens, Umber surveyed the C'tis camp across the valley in the waning light. It was as organized and disciplined as Umber's own camp was not, with weary-looking human slaves constantly toiling to erect siege engines and shore up the makeshift defenses around the lumpy stone fort that had been constructed for the C'tissan bigwigs. Patrols of spear-wielding lizardmen patrolled the orderly lines of soldiers tents, and sentries atop small towers stared back at him from the other side of the valley. Umber counted the enemy at almost 300 warriors strong.

Grimacing, he handed the spyglass to his companion, a cup of rice wine appearing in his meaty hand as if by magic. "What is this C'tissan fool Liverwurst doing? He is as cowardly as that grand high fool Greenish, and yet I must sit here like a helpless babe and wait!"

His companion stirred uncomfortably. Judging by the slur of his voice and the unsteadiness of his gait, Umber was well into his cups tonight. Again. The never-ending tension of impending battle had dragged on for nearly half a year now, and everyone felt its toll. "Lord Umber, you would countermand Lord Greenish's instructions?"
The attendant did not mention the grisly fate of the late Lord Off-White. There was no need to; it was never far from his successor's mind.

"No! No. No, of course not. Damn it. My army'll wait here for 6 more damn months if that's what Greenish wants, but he's inshane. Battles are decided by steel, by boyz, and by tactics, not untested magical trickery and slight of hand! If Greenish thinks he'll just put the war on hold for a few years while he brews up his latest witchesh brew of 'dread magic' then he's got a lot to learn about war! Why that C'tis popinjay plays along with his nonsense, I've got no damn idea. Maybe they're just waiting for that damn fog to kill us all. Why, I've seen what that fog does to the boyz, it's Frumple-damned poison! Do you remember the last time you saw Victor, after his raid? It was all we could do to keep him from coughing his damned gutsh out all over my carpet, and he didn't even last the night. He was just a human, of course, but some of the Boyz are skittish and one of the scouts is feverish. We oughta to attack now, before the fog passes over the valley and sickens ush all."

"This is ground is holy to *Frumple*, Lord Umber. The miasma has no force here. And I humbly suggest that you reconsider your lack of faith in the power of Master Greenish's magic; though your esteemed personage has not visited his workshop, I have seen the savage and cruel things that he creates there. I can do little more than re-emphasize that they are truly terrible. The potential for destruction in them is immense, and we have judged it worth the delay."

Umber snorted, unhappy with the situation but powerless to change it. "I wish I shared your faith, Masamuro, but I've yet to see the church of *Frumple* succeed at anything except taking credit for the victories of my soldiersh. Have Greenish bring his monsters and his cruel techniques to the battle. Have him come himshelf. And when he flees back to Mount Shinuyama after ruining my planning, my war, and my army, why, then maybe he'll learn better! Damn, if his [censored] is half of what you make it out to be, I'll tear off my own left hand and eat it. Ha!"

"Please, General, let me escort you back to your tent." Umber's voice was becoming dangerously loud. There was some danger in speaking ill of Greenish publicly; Lord Off-White was only able to be identified via dental records.

"No! More wine! Takashi, MORE WINE!" Giving up, Umber's companion left the General to his cups and retreated to a nearby bluff. Across the valley, the torchlights of the C'tissan camp twinkled like fireflies beneath the setting sun.

"You'll have your fight soon enough, Umber. Soon enough."