Captain Hest Vale read Marshal Krail’s general order from the stone steps of the inner parade ground before all three hundred and ninety-two assembled soldiers of the Stonewake guard post.
Her voice rang off the high limestone curtain walls, clear, cold, and unrelenting in the sharp morning air, while four civilian paymaster clerks unlocked heavy iron-bound oak strongboxes and stacked tube-shaped rolls of silver coin upon the wooden frame stand tables. The soldiers stood in four double columns at rigid attention, their buff leather coats stiff with mountain frost. Their breath rose in dense white plumes toward the pale winter sky. Their eyes stayed fixed on the gleaming heaps of silver. Hest reached the concluding paragraph of the warrant. Promising full accrued wages through the end of the month. Then, an honorable discharge certificate, and safe conduct outside the survey outer edge with zero punishment penalties—a heavy, expectant hush settled across the flat stone slabs.
Not a single soldier stepped out of line.
Captain Kroll stood beside the first company, his chin thrust forward, his right hand resting on the brass handle knob of his broadsword. He cast a sharp, triumphant glance toward Kezra Venn, who stood beside the paymaster’s porch with her bonded notebook tucked beneath her arm.
