"Very limited, like groping in the dark."
Samir shook his head helplessly, pointing to a one-eyed warrior sitting silently in the shadows at the edge of the camp, holding an old-fashioned Mosin-Nagant.
"Our eyes in the towns have almost been gouged out by them. 1515 carries out a reign of terror, with their religious police everywhere, their 'courts,' beheading at the slightest suspicion! The ordinary people are angry but don't dare to speak. We can only rely on a few absolutely trustworthy tribal elders to relay bits of information, or..."
He paused, his voice carrying a hint of pain, gesturing towards a soldier sitting by the campfire.
"...send our most elite scouts out to risk their lives, the cost... like Hassan, his team of five went out, and only he returned, missing an eye."
The campfire's glow flickered across Hassan's face, his hollow eye socket seemed to silently tell of the price's brutality.
The camp plunged into a heavy silence.
