Chapter 12 — The Long Road North
The town of Greyfen appeared at dusk, smoke rising thin and straight from its chimneys. Aren counted the days on his fingers — eleven since the crossing, eight since his last hot meal.
At the gate a guard glanced at the copper rank-plate on his belt and waved him through. Third circle. Barely worth a look up here, where every second farmhand could split firewood without an axe. He smiled anyway. A year ago the plate had been tin.

