Days ago, we arrived at the coast. As my squire set up camp, I looked out at the endless expanses of ocean and sky. Pristine blues and greys. I imagined the vast fleet making its way to our shores, the horizon broken by countless masts, acres of sail.
The engineers are doing their best to prevent a single soldier from making landfall. Catapults and other engines are being built, their aim almost perfect, to sink ships. They are the point of our defensive spear.
This beautiful place might be preserved, unstained by blood, from man and his need for warfare.
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