Koth looked uncomfortable. Zara's analytical mask had cracked slightly. Even Varg, usually quick with sarcasm, said nothing.
They all understood what they were seeing.
A commander who'd broken himself against impossible odds and was waiting for someone to put him out of his misery.
Liam stood, walked to the map, studied it with cold precision.
"Show me their patrol patterns," he said.
Skel'var blinked. "What?"
"The kill-teams. They raid three times a day. Dawn, noon, and dusk, you said. Show me their approach routes."
"Why does it—"
"SHOW ME." Liam's voice carried command that made even Koth straighten.
Skel'var, more from reflex than conviction, pulled out another map. Red lines marked the enemy approach vectors - predictable, safe, designed to minimize risk while maintaining pressure.
Liam traced them with his finger, his mind working through scenarios, calculating probabilities, weighing options.
