Ollie crouched behind the roots of a mighty cypress tree, looking out across the open plains below where a powerful army had built their camp. Banners flapped idly in a faint summer breeze that seemed to bring no relief from the endless heat of the two suns. The symbols of the Lothians, the Dunns, the Hanrahans, the Rians, and dozens more major and minor families could be clearly seen, mixed with a nearly equal number of banners displaying the gleaming sword of the Order of Holy Light, the burning blade of the Order of Holy Flame, and the burning sun of the Inquisition.
"How many of them do you think there are, Milo?" Ollie asked in a hushed voice. Between Milo and Harrod, he'd managed to rally over four dozen soldiers and twice as many villagers who were skilled with weapons, though most of them were hunters skilled in bows and snares rather than the use of axes or maces, the way Harrod's men were.
