Unusual commander
Fenn stepped through the tent's entrance, and his initial impression was complitely different to what he had expected. Instead of the grandeur or luxurious sophistication he thought might belong to a commander's quarters, the tent was shockingly bare. There were no tables laden with maps, no racks of polished weapons, and no ornate furnishings. The ground was covered with little more than a few scattered patches of straw and dirt, except for a modest fur thrown across one corner, serving as a makeshift bed.
Beside the fur lay a sword still in its scabbard and an axe , casually discarded as though they were an afterthought rather than the primary tools of war. Fenn's gaze lingered on it for a moment, noting its worn leather grip, before returning to the man sprawled on the fur.