Geoffrey's throat bobbed as he swallowed again, his fingers curling tightly into his sleeves as if that alone could steady him. This was crucial information.
The Eastern and Northern camp was feared not because it was unbeatable, but because it looked unbeatable. Its population alone created an illusion of inevitability, one that scared away smaller factions before a fight could even begin.
However, he knew there was no escaping this question, and he also knew that lying at this point would only make things worse.
"Around forty to fifty thousand," he answered finally. "That includes otherworlders, mercenaries, and native fighters trained under the eastern and northern command."
Anna's expression hardened slightly at his side, her grip tightening unconsciously as she processed the numbers.
"And among those," Geoffrey added quickly, as if afraid of leaving anything out, "only a few thousand can be considered elite."
The room went quiet.
