This time, when Ethan left the prison, he wasn't covered in blood. Quite the opposite.
A soft smile played on his lips as he waved to Doran, who had been listening from outside the whole time, signaling for him to take care of the body.
"We must prepare to expand the guard, my lord," Doran said, his voice firm and respectful.
Ethan nodded, folding his arms as he gazed up at the gray sky hanging low over the village.
"I know… Next month, I'll improve the barracks. Through the winter, we'll intensify the militia's training. I want at least five hundred men ready to fight by the time the snow melts, even if they aren't active members of the guard."
He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the distant tree line.
"Healthy, childless women can train to become archers as well. But they will not be sent to the front lines."
Doran nodded in silence at his words, though a flicker of confusion crossed his weathered face.
