Kael stood on the walls, looking down at the fortress where bonfires blazed, casting flickering light over the soldiers.
The problem with rations was solved—Kael had brought enough food for two months. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make the Guardian of the North go wild, throwing out meat, wine, and starting a celebration. Soldiers deserved a feast now and then—no one wanted to fight a losing war on an empty stomach.
But while one side was filled with laughter and energy, the other side was pure death. Kael turned his gaze forward, staring at the snow-covered wasteland stretching into the horizon. The land was barren, frozen stiff, and dead silent, as if waiting for something to break the stillness. From what he knew, the mines were about three kilometers away, and attacks usually happened in this area—but the range had increased lately.
Kael sighed as Gare spoke up. "My Lord, you said the attacks slowed down six days ago."
"Yeah, and?" Kael grunted.
