Alexander’s POV
The stench of smoke and iron still clung to my clothes. Even after hours on the battlefield, I could still taste the ash in my throat; it was bitter and unrelenting. We had pushed back, broken through their defense, but the defense was already done.
The village was nothing but ruins now—charred timber, collapsed roofs, and bodies that hadn’t deserved the ending they got. My men moved like thirst through the wreckage, searching, calling out for any sound that wasn’t death.
“Ove here!” Someone shouted.
I turned sharply.
James was crouched beside a half-buried trapdoor, one of his hands pressed against the ground. He nodded towards the faint sounds beneath it—muffled cries, whispers.
Hostages.
“Get it open,” I ordered.
Two soldiers pried the door loose, and a ru
