Lindarion stood at the edge of the map.
The mountain wind scraped softly across the outcrop, dragging cold over stone. The sun hadn't cleared the ridge yet. Shadows still ruled the slope. But everyone was awake.
Erebus leaned against a broken column at the side of the circle. His blade rested sheathed, but his posture said it might not stay that way.
Lira sat opposite him, elbows on knees, eyes unmoving. No tension. But no trust, either.
Sylric stood just left of the map with arms crossed and an expression that read more like a hangover than concern.
The mercs were spaced in a semi-circle, Velna, Rythe, Derran, Mekir, Kael, Stitch. A few new faces from Sylric's silent summons stood further back, watching Lindarion like he was either about to impress them or get them killed.
Luneth was last to arrive.
She didn't speak. Just took her place beside Lira and didn't blink.
Lindarion tapped the edge of the map with one gloved finger.
"This is what we know," he said.
