27
‘So, wielder. Once again you seem to be at the centre of trouble.’
Wilt looked up from where he was sitting by the fire, under the watchful gaze of two heavily armed guards. Walking toward him was Captain Mont, one hand still clutching the hastily written reports his junior officers had given him, each one trying and failing to make any sense of the mess that had been made of the rear end of his column overnight.
Captain Mont stopped at the fire and frowned at the young man, little more than a boy, who seemed to have been the lone survivor of the attack. ‘Care to explain why you still stand when by the latest count fifteen of my men and at least thirty others won’t wake to see the morning?’
Wilt stood up, dusting himself off and pulling his shoulders back. He knew there was no point
