Night settled gently over the valley.
The expedition had made camp beneath a grove of towering evergreens several miles beyond the Oakhaven border. A gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and woodsmoke through the camp while the stars slowly emerged overhead.
Unlike previous nights, the mood among the soldiers was lighter.
The tension at the border had passed.
Someone had caught a pair of trout from a nearby stream, and laughter drifted between the campfires as Sir Roland exaggerated yet another tale from his younger days.
“I swear,” he declared dramatically, “the bear was at least twice the size of a carriage.”
“It grows larger every time you tell it,” Julian replied dryly.
Sir Roland folded his arms.
“That is because memory improves with age.”
The soldiers erupted into laughte
