In the darkest hour:

[Octiovus]

The Covian wounded solemnly filed past the barracks in a long chain, holding onto one another for support, still coated in blood and sand. Hastily applied bandages from the medical post decorated nearly every one of them, a sorry sight to behold. Many more had been left in the lunar landscape of Nujel'm, face down in the sand. The ragged Covian standard fluttered weakly in the light breeze, the men ashen faced. Tiberius looked on, it was a sight he'd seen dozens of times before - yet it never got any easier. Fighting on, without their allies, against superior numbers. How could they hope to win? He frowned at the question, gripping his halberd tightly. It was in the darkest hour that heroes are made.

****

The undead and orcs circled all around the mercenary formation, the Yewish militiamen in sight but too far to reach, the two formations cut off from one another. Arrows whizzed by, the forces of the Guardian sensing the smaller band of mercenaries were more vulnerable, directing all their might against them. Recruits began to fall beneath the darting figures, the ranks mercenary ranks thinning, fear setting in. Tiberius looked around, sweat pooling beneath his helm. The determined eyes of Greystone met his for a moment. The duo said nothing, but they knew what had to be done. Tiberius suddenly barked an order: "STAY IN FORMATION!" Greystone grabbed a faltering soldier, shoving him back into the ranks. The men closed shoulder to shoulder. Heal. Attack. Move. Heal. Never breaking sight of each other, as one, the few shadow clad hired swords started to push back the Guardian's minions.

****

The enemies were different, but the methods were the same. The first two battles had won not only by numbers, but by team work. Sticking within sight of each other, healing, attacking and moving as one. It was an age old problem, but easy victories could soon lead to easy defeats. The men had come a long way from when this war began, but there was much more for them to learn. Tiberius adjusted his cap, before saluting to the passing soldiers. They had lost the battle, but he was going to try with all his might to make sure they didn't lose the damned war.