Roland and Ecclesio had freed Rempert and installed him in front of an imposing oak desk where the parchments written by him were spread out. With trembling hands, he looked at them without being able to decipher his own words, distorted by the veil of fatigue that weighed on his eyelids. He would never even manage to give the illusion of a study of the documents. Despite his efforts, he nodded his head and thought only of one thing: putting his forehead in the crook of his elbow and sleeping, finally... Thus lost at the borders of sleep, he jumped all the more brutally when the door flew opened to give way to a breathless mercenary.
“The army is attacking us!” he yelled without preamble.
Roland reacted with the speed of a cobra. He gathered the scrolls, put them back in their box and, a
