Chapter 458 - Lyan's Gut Feeling (2)

The barracks still smelled of steel and blood—the metallic sting of sword oil mingled with the sour odor of damp wool and a faint, coppery sweetness left by wounds hastily cleaned. Rain pattered on the roof-slats overhead, each drop drumming a dull warning against warped shingles. Outside, campfires guttered in the wind; their smoke leaked through every cracked board and warped shutter, adding charcoal bitterness to the air already hot and heavy with breath and sweat.