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"Is it true that the imperial army is close?"
Georg hurriedly ran into Urich's tent.
Urich nodded as he fastened his belt equipped with a sheath for his sword.
"That was fast. They caught up to us much sooner than I expected," he said to Georg.
"Good heavens, the imperial army is right behind us. We're finished!"
"Why are you being so negative? It’s not like the sky is falling."
Urich chuckled and patted Georg on the shoulder.
"We're talking about the imperial army here!"
"If you cower before you even fight, you've already lost."
"You speak too lightly."
"You go and calm the mercenaries down. I can already see them scared out of their minds and trying to desert."
"Of course, they’re going to desert. We're up against the imperial army! Now's not the time to be so relaxed and casual."
Georg was anxious. Things were different this time.
‘We’re not in the west this time. The imperial army would have come fully prepared.'
The alliance would have slim chances of victory if they were to face the imperial army head-on. That was a fact everyone knew, not just Georg. The tribal warriors already had firsthand experience of the imperial army‘s combat strength.
"Me being nervous and anxious isn’t going to get us anywhere. Besides, at the end of the day, what’s the worst that could happen? Worst case scenario, we’ll just die. Nothing more than that."
Urich shrugged as he donned his leather cloak. He tucked his axe by his side and walked out of...
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