Silas did not look up. He knew the heavy, labored breathing of Bram, his squad’s last surviving shield-bearer. "I know," Silas murmured. "I’m just checking for salvage. Every scrap of iron counts if we are going to make it through the Pass."
Bram spit a dark glob of phlegm into the snow. "How many left, Captain?" Ashes of War [v1.0]
Silas knelt in the black mud, his fingers tracing the rusted edge of an old infantry shield half-buried in the frost. He wiped away a layer of grime to reveal the faded crest of the 4th Legion—a roaring lion, now blind and scarred by pits of corrosion. Silas did not look up
Silas looked back at the small, shivering cluster of campfires tucked into the ruins of a collapsed watchtower. A handful of hollow-eyed refugees and three wounded soldiers were all that remained of a proud garrison. "I’m just checking for salvage