Mattheus could only sigh in response to Lula's comment.
"Don't I know it…"
The twenty-one-year-old transmigrator looked at the giant pyre at the center of the wide-open area, a lot of the wood seemingly taken from the half-collapsed building that initially gave them pause. A grim countenance for the sight of so much death.
Maybe if the outpost soldiers stayed in town instead of returning to their posts…
His eyes skimmed the milling Wild Hunt before barely resisting a full-bodied flinch as he saw the glowing eyes of the skull-masked Illarion looking straight in his direction.
Mattheus knew that the marquess was keeping an eye on him over the past two weeks and had gotten used to the scrutiny to a point but he had been distracted by the large loss of life.
