Regret
The sun was setting as Moax sat on a bench by one of the campfires. A makeshift bar was set up out of wood. A grisly old man stood behind it, a bucket by his side as he rinsed out the mugs and handed them back out to the next. There were many barrels of ale rested by the side of him. Slightly pass that were rows of tents, some made of wool and others sheet or linen. The main tent was bigger than the rest and it belonged to his father. It stood in the centre of all the others, still, it was slightly spaced from the rest. Outside of this was a barricade filled with many traps. Moax saw a patrol of about three men and a few torches that had also been placed. Moax judged by the setup and the proximity to water that this was probably his father’s main base. “It was a pity we had to kill the gi
- Writer
