Ashes Of War [v1.0] Direct

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.

Bram grunted, leaning heavily on a walking axe that had long since lost its edge. "Scraps won't buy us bread in the Lowlands. Assuming the Lowlands haven't burned just as bright as the Ridge." Ashes of War [v1.0]

"Enough to carry the memory," Silas replied, his voice barely louder than the whistling wind. "And that is all we have left." Silas looked back at the small, shivering cluster

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." "Scraps won't buy us bread in the Lowlands

Bram spit a dark glob of phlegm into the snow. "How many left, Captain?"