The grass whispered beneath his boots as Asher approached the camp. The gentle rustling was the only sound until the flickering glow of dozens of braziers came into view, chasing away the encroaching darkness.
A dozen tents had been erected in a wide circular formation, each one glowing faintly from within. Paladins stood in pairs at fifty-meter intervals along the outer edge, their large aspis shields, modelled after the legendary hoplites of Earth, catching the orange light.
Their armour reflected the firelight like sentinels forged from dusk and steel.
With three hundred Imperials of the paladins' calibre forming a perimeter, Asher felt at ease. His wife and children, nestled within the heart of this camp, were safer than most kings on their thrones.
Beyond the edge of the brazier's reach, where the darkness began to reclaim the grassland, a lone figure stood still, Nero.
