King GarGar was getting up to that age when he could feel the morning aching in his bones. He didn’t like it one bit. While the younger men seemed to leap off of the cold, hard ground, he had to struggle to straighten his back. His aid de camp brought him his hot tea every morning and that helped to clear his head, but before he’d finished his first draught, his men would already be up and ready for warfare. GarGar was a night owl. The sunshine was not his friend.