Bjorn stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the trembling battle commander. His voice was calm now. Calm because there was no need being loud and angry again. Tatehan had done a good job making the battle commander talk.
"How is the West?" Bjorn asked, his pale eyes locked on the man. "Tell me about the Obscuron's territory. What are we walking into if we try to strike at him there?"
The battle commander swallowed hard, his throat working against the pain and the fear, and he nodded weakly. His voice was hoarse, broken, but he spoke without hesitation now. The iron had done its job. He was not going to hold anything back.
