The Grand Elder sat in his command chariot; his expression was unreadable as he surveyed the battlefield through a holographic display.
The air around him was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the occasional crackle of distant gunfire and the low hum of the chariot's engines. His advisors and fellow Elders stood nearby, their faces pale, their confidence shaken.
"Grand Elder," the Third Elder spoke cautiously, "our losses are… significant. The troops are demoralized, and the supreme commander's forces have retaken the second defensive line. What are your orders?"
The Grand Elder stroked his long white beard, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considered the situation. "Hohoho," he chuckled softly, though there was no humor in his voice. "It seems our dear supreme commander is more resourceful than we anticipated. But this is far from over."
