Palindor and Grol dismissed their captains to their respective duties and began walking from the Garrison House back towards Belloc's dwelling.
"The news concerning that skirmish to the north troubles me," Palindor said. "It doubtless involved Captain Triel of Brand and his army, but I do not understand why he sent us no message telling us of this occurrence, nor failed to let us know his future plans and general location."
"Messages sent can be intercepted," Grol reminded him. "This is proof that the enemy draws near, and that the battle is already enjoined. Be thankful that few men were counted amongst the dead! That in itself means that Triel remains a force to be reckoned with."
Palindor sighed as they neared the old barn, itself now connected to a series of lean-to's full of horses that stretched all the way uphill to the Garrison House. The day was crisp and clear, windy and chilly, the ground underfoot becoming hard and frozen, even when touched by the mid-day sun. "Triel fights as though he were a ghost, full of retribution! I see his mind in this, and it troubles me, for his actions are a foretaste of what may well be the fate of all who manage to survive the fall of
the Four Kingdoms."
Even as Palindor said these words, there came a concussion that nearly threw the pair to the ground that was followed by a deep rumble.