I’m not a general, and I’ve no head for tactics. I’m the first to admit that, and I admit it freely.
However, I do have an army. It is vast and, so far as I can tell, powerful. My soldiers stretch out as far as the eye can see, and from my balcony they seem a formidable force indeed. Their armour shines in the morning sun as I inspect them, and they stand, proud, waiting for my word.
I wish them nothing but the best, after all, they have families waiting for them, I‘m sure. I hope they succeed, though I’m not exactly clear what they’ll be fighting for. The seem fierce, and brave. So far they’ve proved loyal to me. A fine army, one I can be proud of. I wish I could offer them better leadership.
Three days ago I was working at Red Lobster, you see. A man came in, told me I was the chosen one, and brought me here.
To be honest, I have no idea what I’m going to do with this army. But they’re mine, and I feel I owe them something, so I’ll try to do right by them.
I played a bit of Risk in university.
How hard could it be?