Day 12 of the Great Conflict.
The morning began with confidence. Not because we had a plan, but because someone said “trust me,” and we all agreed that sounded official enough.
Our commander drew a detailed battle strategy in the dirt. It looked impressive… until the wind erased half of it and now we’re pretty sure we invaded our own left flank.
At sunrise, the signal was given. Drums pounded. Hearts raced. One guy yelled “FOR GLORY!” and immediately ran the wrong direction. We followed him anyway. Unity is important.
Somewhere in the chaos, our fastest soldier sprinted straight into the enemy camp… tripped… and accidentally knocked over their command tent. In the confusion, they assumed it was a surprise elite attack.
They fled.
We stood there, equally confused, trying to decide whether to chase them or pretend this was all intentional.
We chose the second option.
Victory was declared. Speeches were made. The guy who tripped is now being called a “tactical genius,” though he insists he just didn’t see the rope.
Current situation:
Territory gained: somehow yes
Plan executed: absolutely not
Confidence level: suspiciously high
Tomorrow we prepare for another decisive and completely accidental victory.