Something about Old Master’s guileless smile and light tone was unnerving, but he had not given her cause to genuinely distrust him yet despite his general penchant for trickery.
“General.” Malia snapped off a sharp salute. “The entire valley is asleep. The scouts have returned from the villages.”
Shanka tugged on her breastplate. “Then we march. The first village will be for prisoners - keep only the strong and useful men. Destroy the rest.”
Malia saluted again. Two scouts knelt beside her, working feverishly to light a blaze. The army was marching, and they were coming with the fires of hell.
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