Snowid looked out at his war council and groaned at their tired appearances. "Tell me, what are the reports."
"Dabrowski still holds the beyond the river. Every push we have tried has failed." One of the men said with a resignation. His words made everyone slightly drop in mood. What should have been an easy victory had now become an annoying stalemate.
"What about the south?" Snowid asked, and everyone looked at the man in charge. "Small victories. Henryk isn't there, so we have made a foothold but can't push further than the forest. We're spread too thin, and Dabrowski has had time to get a lot of mercenaries."
"USLESS!" Snowid slammed his fist on the table, the wood creaking, showing his immense strength. "Why must I always be the one to take to the field so we can win? All of you act like nothing more than children playing at war."
