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"There is no time to waste, then. March towards the hill!"
Having decided to listen to Hugues' advice, your regiment sets off on a hurried march to the hill, doubling your rhythm as you scramble to reach the favorable position before your enemy does. In that day, you do not stop your lunch, forcing the soldiers to either eat on the move, or to go without...the heavy wagon carts, too, begin to lag behind. They'll most likely only arrive a few hours after your fighting forces have made it to your goal. <span class="mu-i">If the enemy had been chasing you, or had sent horsemen to harass you, they would have most certainly been able to attack you.</span> Fortunately for you, of course, that is not the case.
You manage to arrive to the hill - Costat Hill, as you've taken to calling it, but not by much; already the sky has begun to turn a purplish hue, and the water of the lake that sat beside the hill had taken a dark tone. Your men hurriedly set up their camp, using the last rays of sunlight to achieve their tasks before the night. Nevertheless, you have managed to take the higher ground, an undeniable advantage. Even from here, you can already see the enemy in the horizon, the fires of their camp lighting up the road far ahead. They'll most certainly be able to reach you tomorrow. <span class="mu-s">Because you chose to force march your army through Santula, however, you were able to take this advantageous position.</span> All that remained was to ensure it had not gone to waste.
Things were not all to your likin, however. <span class="mu-i">Because you had sent both your Cavalry and Skirmishers to scout the region, and then hurried along to the hill, your army was well ahead of where they were expected to be.</span>Although you did not worry for the safety of your cavalry, they had most certainly assembled behind on the road. You did not expect the enemy to move past you to chase them; it would all but expose their rear for attacks on your part, but at the same time you did not believe they would make it to the battle on their own.
You did have an idea, however; early in the morning tomorrow, you could perhaps send one a messager south-wise to attempt to lead them back. <span class="mu-i">Whether they make it in time, however, would depend on whether your foe attempted to wait.</span>
Suddenly, your train of thought is interrupted by the opening of your tent flap. It is Joan, your maid and old friend, holding a metal tray.
"Your dinner, sir."
"Ah, thank you Joan." you say as she places down the tray on the portable table set for you. Since you were not eating in a village, your meal was of the more military kind - boiled smoked pork, floating in a soup of grains and seeds, with a side of watered down wine.
