The soldier looked at the jar in Bertram’s hand, then at Bertram’s hollowed cheeks. He didn't raise his spear. Instead, he reached into a pouch at his belt, pulled out a stale crust of rye bread, and tossed it onto the dirt between them.
Bertram clutched the bread and the medicine to his chest. He hadn't won a battle, and he hadn't ended the war. But as he climbed back toward the safety of the keep, he knew he had survived one more night. In Edring, that was the only victory that mattered. File: Siege.Survival.Gloria.Victis.v2021.12.07....
The iron-clad boots of the Ismarian invaders thundered against the Great Gate, a rhythmic heartbeat of impending doom. Inside the inner ward of Edring, the air tasted of wet stone and old smoke. The soldier looked at the jar in Bertram’s
Bertram didn’t look at the gate. He couldn’t afford to. His war was fought in the dirt. Bertram clutched the bread and the medicine to his chest
Without a word, the soldier turned and vanished back into the fog of the siege.
For a long minute, the only sound was the distant thump-thump of the battering ram against the citadel.