The night was deep in, the moon casted it glows with the stars supporting.
The wheels of a carriage could be heard as it drove through the paved road between the camp of trees that stood by the side.
Deep in the shadows, using these trees as a shade Garmond had his hooded cloak on, watching.
He turned his head behind him, "Martin right, what are we doing now?" Garmond asked calmly.
Martin, a tall, muscular figure with scattered beards around his chin.
He had the usual brown leather placed over him. A long sword strapped to his waist. He looked fierce and strong, thanks to the deep scare that went down the side of his face.
It was a sign that he was not the average type soldier.
'Unlike those pipsqueak back at the village' Garmond remembered the Malian's back at the village.
Especially the one that whipped him in the back then.
'Let's see if he'll ever have the chance again'