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    Near the border of the Forest of Night

    Year: 1137, Second Age
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    General Nir’Tal, commanding officer of the Talarian Army, sat silently before a crackling campfire as he silently sharpened his massive, two-bladed battle-axe. His piercing gaze drifted slowly over his army’s expansive encampment that was stretched out all around him, feeling a slight sense of pride for how many of his fellow Talarian soldiers that he had been able to recruit. Thanks to the amount of fear that recent losses in skirmishes with Rae and Zeld forces had stirred up within the Talarian people, new trainees for the army had been hard to come by. However, these problems had become a thing of the past, ever since a mysterious being had shown up in the Talarian capitol city a few weeks ago. Nir’Tal had no idea who or what this being was, and he intended to keep it that way.

    The sound of approaching heavy footsteps brought Nir’Tal out of his thoughts. He glanced up to see the huge muscular figure of Borian, Nir’Tal’s second-in-command, standing before the firelight, “What is it, Borian?” Nir’Tal asked as he continued to sharpen his axe’s blades.

    “The Master wishes to speak to you.” Borian told him in a deep gravely voice.

    Nir’Tal frowned. The Master very rarely wanted to speak to someone of lower rank that the High Council. “Thank you, Borian.” He said as he set the battle axe aside and stood up, “If The Master has any orders for us, be ready to relay them to the troops.”

    “Yes, sir.” Borian replied.

    Nir’Tal then strode towards the main command tent located in the center of the camp atop a small hill. Before long, he marched through the main enterance to the tent and knelt before a large, tan-colored, smooth sphere that floated in midair at the far end of the room. “What is your wish, Master?” Nir’Tal asked.

    The sphere suddenly transformed into a dark, robed figure with a deep hood concealing its facial features. This figure, however, was not real due to the fact that the edges of its robes flickered like a dieing campfire. “General Nir’Tal,” the robed figure began in an evil, nasally voice, “I have sensed that the evil ones surrounding us are starting to weaken. Now is the time to strike!”

    “Excellent.” Nir’Tal said, and unpleasant smile appearing on his face, “Where do you wish us to attack?”

    “My spies among the enemy’s ranks have informed me that the Rae city of Clovensein currently has only a small military force to guard it.” The figure said, “If you succeed in capturing this city, we shall control most of the trade routes that run between both the Rae and the Minsar. Do not fail me, General.”

    “I will not, my lord.”

    The figure cackled, “Pray that you do not, Nir’Tal. For if you do, your punishment shall be more painful than anything that you can possibly comprehend.” With that, the figure vanished and the sphere drifted gently to the floor.

    Nir’Tal stood up and quickly strode out of the command tent, a determined look upon his face. Despite his numerous self-assurances that he wouldn’t fail The Master, he couldn’t help but shudder at The Master’s last few words. “Borian!” Nir’Tal called.

    The burly soldier walked up to him, “Yes, sir?”

    “Send word to the division commanders to pack up and be ready to move out by dawn.” Nir’Tal ordered, “We march for the Rae/Minsar border.”

    “Aye, sir!” Borian answered enthusiastically, his enormous muscles tensing up in excitement. He then jogged off to where the division commanders were camped.

    Silently, Nir’Tal hoped that The Master’s spy’s intel had been correct. Otherwise, the coming siege was going to be a slaughter for both sides.