Marching through the open plains of the Livonik territories, Marcus rushed his men towards Jaslo, unable to believe he had made such a simple blunder as leaving the path to the city underdefended. He had been arrogant, he knew he had, treating Octavius as a simpleton who would act as he wanted.
The only saving grace was how close Jaslo was to the position he held. Within a week, he could arrive at the city and have it under siege. Heading the march, Macrus slowed down, squinting as dust kicked up in the distance. It wasn't enough to be an enemy, but the sight was strange. The common people would be the first to know when the army was marching, making sure to avoid their routes.
"HOLD!" Raising his hand, Marcus drew his sword, prepared for a trap, "STAND READY!"
"STAND READY!"
"STAND READY!"
...