*** Northern Border – Raven's Command Tent ***
The blizzard had quieted, leaving the air heavy and sharp.
Marquis Raven stood before a table of maps and ruined documents, the flicker of oil lamps casting long shadows across his face. His officers were silent, waiting for his fury; it never came.
"Send word to every commander," Raven said at last, his voice calm but dangerous. "The offensive is delayed until new engines are constructed."
One of his captains hesitated. "That could take weeks, my lord."
"Then work faster."
He turned his gaze to the horizon, where the faint light from the sun peeked through the dark clouds and began to touch the snow. "The heretic thinks he's clever. Let him. Every hour he gains will be another nail in his coffin."
Father Verdant cleared his throat nervously. "My lord, if I may… the men are uneasy. The snow is rising. It swallowed the bodies by morning."
