Restless and tired of all these mysteries, Feisan shouts out an order. “All divisions, we attack immediately.”
The order is carried through the lines from one mouth to another. Feisan sits like a statue in the shiny saddle. He plucks out his curved sabre, and the next moment the white stallion prances down the dune. Feisan’s cloak flutters high as he leads the hordes to the fort. He is an impressive figure who inspires his warriors with near-maniac bravery. When they near the fort from all sides, like always, Feisan falls back a little. His warriors storm past him, and his guards instantly form a circle around him for protection.
Feisan’s eyes are fixed on the battlements, but all is quiet. Not one kepi is fluttering, and there is not the slightest glint of a barrel of a rifle. Once more
