Beneath Brintanhe Fortress, the enormous grain cellar had been temporarily converted into a staging area for the coming battle.
Thousands of torches sat in iron rings mounted on the stone walls. Their flames burned quietly in the stagnant air, stretching everyone's shadows long and thin.
Alex Federer sat on a wooden crate with a piece of linen in his hand, slowly wiping down his silver-grey long coat. His movements were reverent, as though he were caressing a lover's skin.
After all, a lover would only drain his stamina, while this enchanted garment, called Winter's Embrace, could retain warmth even in the most extreme cold.
His fingertips brushed across the fabric, feeling the faintly raised patterns inside-the mithril threads wrapped in arcane fleece.
"Stop polishing it. Keep that up and you'll wear it bald."
Berick held an unlit cigarette between his lips and toyed with a deck of cards, a queen of hearts with a chipped corner dancing between his fingers. "Captain, do you really think this thing can stand up to that damned weather outside? I went to take a piss by the air vent just now, and it froze into an icicle before it hit the ground. Nearly froze my cock off."
Several knights checking their equipment nearby chuckled.
Alex stopped what he was doing and looked up, his eyes full of weary resignation toward his old comrade.
"Even jokes need limits." Alex shook out the coat, slipped it on, and fastened its double row of brass buttons. "Don't scare those recruits from Golden Thread Province. If they actually believe you and morale suffers, I'll send your squad out on patrol tonight."
"Don't. I trust our lord, really." Berick ducked his head, hurriedly wrapped his coat tighter around himself, and pulled his leather cap with its earflaps down over