The borders of Frontier were falling back.
Line after line of defense had been pushed inward. Smoke rose from burnt watchtowers, and the once strong walls now stood cracked and stained black. Siege engines lay overturned like broken toys, and shattered shields were half buried in mud mixed with blood. Soldiers fought with everything they had, and they bled, and they screamed, yet they held their ground until their legs gave out beneath them.
They were giving a tough fight, but it was not enough.
By the end of the fifth major battle, the commanders stood inside the war tent, with the armor still on.
Their eyes were sunken, and deep lines had formed at the corners. Their faces looked older than they had a month ago.
Maps covered the long wooden table before him. Red markers showed fallen forts. Blue markers had been moved back again and again.
He had realized something bitter.
The kingdom was still standing only because the enemy had not gone all out.
