When it rains, it pours

The day started off actually on a good note. A delivery I'd wanted finally arrived. Well, a little taste of it anyway. Since I'd paid in advanced, the merchant showed up again-showing that she could get it, and just needed time to gather an appropriate quantity. At least, that's what she told me. Considering that she came in riding one from the clutch I had given her, already the size of a small horse, I'd half guess it was just an excuse to show it off. Whatever, as long as it lets me get a little bit of what I want. Of course, Akira verifies that it actually is the stuff before I let her fly off. Some whitish crystalline powder that goes off like a small firecracker when he took a flame to a small sample.

However, those few bags would prove woefully inadequate, in light of what was later revealed to us. You see, both of those I'd sent on subterfuge had returned to us at midday-and from how beat and tired they'd looked, it was as if they'd spent a last bit in a panicked flight. Because they had. Turns out, those we were sieging were starting to get spooked. Simply put, the allies they'd hoped would come to releive them didn't seem like they were coming, so their only hope is to dry and give one last **** to try and end things on terms more favorable to them.

A pang of anger shot through me as I digested this piece of information. Whoever was in command was playing politics instead of war. He couldn't win the fight he was planning, and he knew this. His best case scenario was "lose, but make it hurt enough that we'll concede less during surrender". Sending a bunch of people into the proverbial meatgrinder for his own power play.

But my irritation had to be set aside for now. With any luck, I would get to express my displeasure later. Physically. Plans had to be hastily remade-they would attempt to attack while much of the camp slept, just as I was intending to do, so that left the day for preparations. Tunnel digs need to be redirected upwards to create points for our entry-stopping just before dirt they would suspect nothing, hopefully. Anything that was grown 'for the future' has to be harvested ASAP. Equipment assigned based on training levels-those with the least would have to scavenge for something mid-battle. Sleep schedules are readjusted for the less nocturnal members so that ideally, all my minions will be well-rested when the time comes. Breeders were finally left fallow-so as to minimize those who must stay behind to care for the youngest.

As my little corner became an increasingly tumult of activity, there was only one question I found struggling to answer as pieces fell into place: