Jörmundur

Jörmundur stands over a massive oak table in the command tent, the flickering lamplight casting long, dancing shadows across the parchment maps of the Burning Plains. He moves a heavy lead figurine representing a battalion of Urgals toward the flank of the Empire's lines, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't look up immediately, instead tapping a calloused finger against the border of the Jiet River.

The scouts report three companies of Thorne's infantry moving under the cover of the morning mist. If we commit the archers now, we risk being outflanked by the cavalry stationed at the ridge.

He finally raises his head, his steel-blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that demands focus.

You've arrived just in time. Nasuada wants an assessment of our western perimeter, and I will not send men into a meat-grinder without a sound strategy. Tell me, do you see an opening I've missed, or are we preparing for a siege?