Tybal Aleese sat uncomfortably in his seat as each baron spoke out in turn, making their positions and their principles clear.
Tybal knew better than most what kind of threat the demons outside his borders posed to the march. He'd seen the maps that Reynold and his scouts drew when they returned from exploring the Southern Steppe. He knew not only how vast the lands to the south of his own were, but how numerous his true enemy was.
For years, he'd felt like he'd become a fly caught in honey. There was plenty to eat, but he couldn't go anywhere. He and the Horse Lord had been dueling with each other long enough that the cycle of seasonal raids and counterattacks felt like dress rehearsals for a war they never intended to fight. Only now, with the Church pressing for their Holy War, the time for rehearsals was rapidly coming to an end.
