Chapter 11

The guard did not explain. He simply turned and started walking. A big man with broad shoulders, he didn’t seem the talkative type anyway. Grizzled with gray strands filtering through his brown hair, he marched in a steady cadence, oblivious to his surroundings. Rain cascaded down his helmet and across his red wool tunic. Cloth pulled up over a blue belt became soaked. The guard walked on. Longus figured the man must be nearing the end of his 25-year enlistment. Soon, he would be getting a plot of land to farm and raise a family. In the interim, he lorded over slaves, rain or shine.

Behind them, smelters busily poured the molten ore into molds. Steam arose as the rain struck the fiery metal.