"If we move four hundred of our men into Dunhelm and secure the Hammer Bridge we will be able to hold off any movements against the City of Skiye or the West," suggested Guard Captain Falneren.
Thibalt and Duke Poleus stood next to the tall Guard Captain over a map of Northern Feldom. "We would not be able to stop Zephra's army if they chose to move out in full force," replied Thibalt.
"We cannot sacrifice more than four hundred. The rest will march to the capital and we will need to keep a substantial force here to protect Andron if worse comes to worst," Falneren said.
Thibalt nodded his agreement, realising they could not spare any more men. He had been working together with the Guard Captain over the last few days, preparing Andron's forces for the march to the City of Skiye. Thibalt had been surprised, yet at the same time relieved at Falneren's friendliness, considering their past, and had come to respect the man's tactical know how.
"Then I suggest that you move those men out immediately. The longer that we wait, the more opportunity Dargon has to overrun the city of Dunhelm," Duke Poleus advised.
Thibalt turned from the small table and rubbed his sore eyes. The strain of his new responsibilities was beginning to wear him thin, but he knew that there were others who were in worse positions. He thought of Harrinus and the burden that he now shouldered as General. Or Errollan to whom the whole nation now looked for salvation. Maybe his post was not so bad after all.
He moved to join the other two, but paused as a strange notion entered his mind. All of a sudden a flood of grief and disappointment filled his mind. He then heard his name being called out and recognised the voice. He could never have mistaken that voice and the dire tone in which it was calling his name. Thibalt knew that something was wrong. "Little brother, what has happened?" he whispered distraughtly.
Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 142