Tesfaye sighed, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he looked at Khisa—this young man from another kingdom who spoke like he'd walked the warfronts of a hundred lifetimes. He didn't want to admit it, but respect was slowly building in him like a reluctant fire.
Khisa leaned forward, his eyes sharp and certain. "We need information. We need to know their routes, every path, every unmanned land."
Tesfaye narrowed his eyes. "What do you suggest?"
"First and foremost, we need to learn about the enemy. Information is our greatest strength," Khisa replied calmly. "We need people in the ports. Someone who can blend in. Merchants, fishermen, traders. Since the Adal and Ottomans have taken them, for now, they're the keys to everything. Your squadron should focus on taking them back."
Tesfaye snorted. "It's impossible. We don't have the manpower, and the few soldiers we can rely on are stretched thin."
Khisa didn't flinch. "Even a towering wall can collapse with one loose stone."
