"Letters from your daughter? One would think the distance between you and her was an ocean rather than a stretch of land. It has been a month since ink last travelled to her name," Mavius observed, leaning forward as if gravity itself drew his attention down the steep rings of stone, where rotting corpses lay like cast-off grain beneath the looming shadow of the first wall.
It was reassuring to know they weren't his men.
The sun caught them in patches, gray flesh, split armor, broken spears.
