A living torture. An hell
That was the best way Edric could describe these past few months. Not a single lick of rest, not a single drop of pleasure, just endless, grinding work atop more work..
Worse, the work was doing maddeningly little to improve the situation. The bastards of the Vulture Lord would strike from the mist and then vanish as if they were nothing but smoke.All the patrols he sent to search the location of the attack, coming back empty. And perhaps Edric could have slept at night thinking it a nightmare, if it weren't for the gruesome trail of butchered smallfolk and burned supply wagons they left behind. He had been forced to practically beg the King for more aid, and aid he had received: five cohorts of newly raised men. Green soldiers the King hoped to bloody on the frontier. Four cohorts had been drafted from the Third Legion, and one from the First.
