"Seventy of our Giant Hawk Unit will stay in the capital," Gumarak declared, his eyes sharp with resolve.
"Keep them in constant rotation—flyby attacks only.
Harass the advancing enemy. Stall them. Make them think we're stronger than we are."
He looked toward his air command officer.
"I want movement every sunrise and sunset.
Hit their outer camps, burn their supply lines, retreat before they can respond."
"Turn the skies into hell."
The air officer nodded sharply.
"Understood, Chieftain."
Gumarak turned next to the supply officer.
"Food.
I want reserves calculated for six months minimum."
The officer hesitated.
"Chieftain, that means halving rations for all troops—"
"Then halve it."
"Do it now."
"We don't know when our letters will reach Lioness or Garius. Might be weeks. Might be never.
Until then, we prepare to stand alone."
He clenched his fists behind his back, staring at the battle map—the dwarven capital marked at the heart of the defense web.
