Graystone Fortress, Ackerman's command study.
The night was iron-dark, and wind howled through the cracks in the stone walls.
The flickering fire cast a monstrous glow over the magical beast heads mounted on the walls. Those decorations had originally been meant to display Ackerman's valor and intimidating power.
Now those shriveled wolf heads and Snow Bear teeth seemed to grin in wild laughter, mocking the two men inside who were barely clinging to life.
The floor was a mess. Expensive liquor bottles lay scattered everywhere, and the heavy smell of alcohol mingled with a scorched stench, as pungent as vomit.
Balt curled up beside the fireplace like an old dog drained of all courage.
He clutched a bottle of prized liquor from Ackerman's collection, his hand trembling like a dead branch in the wind. Every sip made him choke.
"That... that wasn't..." His teeth chattered, and his voice cracked.
"Did you see it? How they went mad? They were cutting down their own men... that was sorcery... we're... we're finished..."
He muttered compulsively, like a child frightened out of his wits. "We didn't fight... we were only there on maneuvers, right?
"Louis can't kill us. We're Imperial Army legion commanders... we're regular troops... regular troops..."
Saul viciously kicked a bottle aside. Though his complexion looked little better than a corpse's, he struggled to preserve the last shred of dignity befitting the commander of the Iron Wall Legion.
"Shut up! Act like a man!" he roared, though fear made his voice tremble slightly. "That idiot Ackerman got himself killed. It has nothing to do with us! We watched from the flank. We didn't so much as let out a fart!"
He drew a deep breath and forced himself to sound calm. "As long as we insist Ackerman deceived us, or even