Undercurrent

Having understood their location, Richard looked at the time. It was seven in the evening. “Alright, gather all the captains at eleven. I want to discuss our plans for attacking Camp Bluesquare.”

“Eleven?” Viscount Zim thought this timing very interesting. Wasn’t that the time for them to rest and sleep? If they did not rest, how would they have the energy to fight the next day?

However, Richard nodded, “Eleven! Also Zim, come over at eight-thirty.”

He then finished off an entire five kilograms of roasted boar ribs before returning to his tent, starting to ponder over the map. His followers disappeared one after the other. The camp quickly quieted down; outside of the patrolling soldiers, everyone slowly entered a world of dreams. With a battle imminent, even the most rebellious ruffian would rest earnestly; who did not treasure their minuscule lives?

Richard analysed the map for a while before taking a look at the time and reclining on his bed. A bird’s eye view of Camp Bluesquare immediately appeared in his consciousness.

It was...