The Arctic Fox always enjoyed the march before any battle. Plus the winters here were far more mild than he was used to. He was however still wearing his ridiculously ostentatious general-issued cloak. Sure it made him a target, and set him apart from the common infantry he was marching with. But he was relatively certain that a trained archer still couldnt drop him. Besides, its not like he hadn't survived nearly a dozen assassination attempts since he started at the Academy.
The steady march was fairly uneventful. No one wanted to engage the Dragon Empire and the path taken was meant to avoid every favorable battlefield for the enemy, while still delivering them to their target within a few weeks of marching.
They had stopped for the night, and the Arctic Fox stood upon a hill, and gazed upon the city of Mileth in the distance. A visible fiery blotch on the horizon, bordered by the sea. Their first target. The first step in his master plan...Not to die.
The Arctic Fox pulled out a piece of parchment and motioned for his adjutant to approach. When the man was standing beside him, he then read aloud.
"As winter descends,
Safe in their homes they slumber
Victory comes soon.
That, is how a real general does that flowery poem crap. I passed the class, I don't like hearing it. So stop it...Its pretentious."
"Sir..Are you aware of the cloak you're wearing?"
This question was met by a stony gaze, then a slight smile. "..I'm starting to like you, Adjutant. What's your name?"
"Its Talarous, sir."
Approach Mileth, Siege Mileth. Freely allow their runners/messengers to escape to the west or south. Capture all others.
(Man, Screw Haiku. Really.)