The captain wiped a bead of cold sweat from his brow with his leather gauntlet. He gestured nervously toward a sturdy, high-backed wooden chair tucked beside a stack of supply crates.
"Sit. Please," the captain said, his tone shifting entirely from aggressive interrogation to an anxious, almost reverent caution. "Just... stay right there."
I didn't argue and sat down on the creaking chair, resting my iron-bound hands awkwardly behind my lower back.
While the captain paced back and forth near the table like a caged animal, refusing to meet my gaze, I took the time to scan my surroundings. The command tent was reinforced with heavy canvas and runic leather panels to keep out the sulfurous draft.
Strategic maps of the regional border provinces were pinned to wooden boards, heavily scribbled over with thick crimson ink detailing lost territories, shattered defensive lines, and fallen strongholds.
A few long, agonizingly quiet minutes ticked by.
