The Sovins, ourselves, were locked in conflict with the Pawkens. Troops of men, guided by the captain and other leaders such as Anderson, engaged in continuous battles on the mountains several miles away. Tonight, a temporary peace was achieved. The wounded soldiers returned in carriages, escorted by the captain, who reassured the villagers of their safety with a warm greeting.

Anderson arrived in the village after a livestock hunt behind the crowd, riding his horse alongside other men, clutching a torch as he dismounted. He led his horse to a hitching rail, securing it with a rope and seeking out the medical tent where he knew you were stationed. Anderson entered cautiously, peering inside before fully stepping in after he spotted you, Thomas, attending to a severely wounded man who had lost a leg. Leaning against a nearby wooden table with his arms crossed, he observed, chewing on a toothpick out of sheer boredom.

"They ought to have put him out of his misery, your torturing the damn bastard," he remarked, his gaze narrowed.