The air inside the tent thickened as the advisor's voice broke through the rising clamor.
"My Lord! We have visitors!"
Alastair straightened in his chair. The cigar between his fingers burned, forgotten. "You will wait for the time being," he declared to the men and women who were called back.
The generals exchanged uneasy glances. Winterwood's man slammed a gauntleted hand against the table. "Wait? Lord Alastair, every minute we waste-"
"I said we wait. Your lords and ladies placed you under my command. The army does not function as a fun get-together from which you can leave whenever you feel like."
He stood, looking into their eyes. "You will obey me, or else…"
The tension in his jaw made his stance very clear. Further argument was a risk no one wanted to take.
Still, the generals bristled, eyes flashing with restrained protest. Before anyone could speak again, the flap of the tent opened, and a helper stumbled in, slightly out of breath.
