As the snow melted out of the high passes and the vivid green of the new-grown grass began to appear in the fields and farms the armies mustered themselves; grand plans had been laid, mighty armies gathered and supplies had been laid up. Largely oblivious of each others plans the nations set their troops into motion. In the borderlands between eastern Boozonia and Ferndalia a dour army of hard-bitten warriors formed together with the intention of blazing a path across all of northern Ferndalia and joining together with the Frozonian rebels to teach Peter the Famished a lesson in manners.
Laird Angus MacDavis viewed the arrayed tents of his army; the small core of trained troops were in neat rows and properly spaced, the chaotic tangle of the Highlander encampments spread out on the adjoining hills. He smiled as he looked on, this was the largest assembly of Boozonian soldiers in the last fifty years, they would soon have the chance to drive the Ferndalians out of the historically Boozonian area around Gruyere.
