Sign Ups The king had always been a fool. It was all was that idiot's doing. His dark eyes gazed across the makeshift camp. After the formation of the "new" army, multiple decisions had to be made. Who would be the leaders? Who would be the tacticians? Gwyn could have answered all of these questions on his own. But leave it to the nobility to squabble over it all, and then come crying to him, begging him to fix their problems. He had never been all too fond of his fellow lords and ladies. They knew not the struggles of war and tragedy. They had spent too long in their lofty, lavish homes, away from the horrors of reality. It was only natural that he become the leader of this new army. He had the brains, he had the brawn. The king's previous choices had been foolish. He had appointed several nobles with no combat experience. And it had obviously gone horribly. Gwyn had been willing to watch them crash and burn, because he knew that they'd turn to him to pick up the pieces. Soldiers bustled about, hurrying to pack up various crates and tents. They would be heading to their first battle, most likely. A small group of Ignis soldiers had been sighted nearby. Which... was perfect. Gwyn had been planning to move on anyways. They might as well take the chance to kill some enemy soldiers. Two birds with one stone. The white-haired taguel gave a small huff, hand perched on the sheath of his rapier. They would face their first test, very soon.