He had accounted for everything.
Every man who would march under his banner, every horse that would carry them forward, every mule that would haul the supplies behind. There was not a single figure Alpheo had left uncalculated.
If logistics was a carpet, Alpheo had woven each trend with care.
He had issued explicit orders to each of the great lords who owed him fealty.
This time, each house had been given a precise quota. Not one man more. To most, it might have seemed a strange command—lords were accustomed to arriving at mustering grounds with inflated retinues, hoping to curry favor with their liege by showing off their strength. But Alpheo knew better. He wasn't looking for political theatre—he was preparing for war.
And war did not reward useless vanity considering that whatever troops they could bring would just be used as cannon fodder at best.