Roland Sudrath stood frozen at the edge of the ruined Military Outpost.
The freezing night wind howled through the mountain pass. The air carried the sharp scent of dry limestone and settled steam-engine soot.
Beneath his boots, the ground that had once been a formidable defensive line was now reduced to a sprawling field of rubble.
Roland slowly turned around. His cold gray eyes swept over the entire team standing amidst the thin fog.
His navy-blue diplomatic robes were long gone. His white shirt was grimy with dust and sweat, while the stinging pain from the gash on his left shoulder was strictly hidden away.
"Fan out. Scour every inch of these ruins," Roland ordered.
His voice was calm, but his clenched jaw betrayed the chaos raging in his mind. "Find a trail."
Without a word, the group immediately sprang into action.
