Hannibal was sitting in his dimly lit tent, studying well a map of the whole Hispania. The first stronghold the carthaginians built under the command of his father Hamilcar, Carthago Nova, had been sieged by the romans. His brothers, Hasdrubal and Mago, were both carrying out sieges themselves in the italian peninsula: he'd have to take care of the issue alone. He had to think, to concieve a sagacious strategy, in order to get their stronghold back; if he didn't, most of his supplies would be cut down greatly, which he couldn't afford in those times. Yet, his mind was blank. Nothing came to him as he stared at the well-drawn map he'd been so focused on. Until... Until he heard foosteps making their way into his tent. Who could it have been? He had been clear: nobody was to disturb him. He wondered why the guards didn't stop whoever it was as he turned his head around. "I thought my instructions were clear."