As dawn broke, the Lainwright soldiers stirred, roused by a divine scent they had never before experienced. It permeated their barracks, invigorating each of them with electrifying energy.
"What is that aroma?" Denzel muttered, already dressed. Lainwright soldiers were accustomed to waking early, so he, Eric, and Chen descended to the ground floor of their barracks. To their surprise, they discovered a sea of soldiers and Immortals had beat them, walking toward the scent like the undead, funneling into the mess halls past the town square.
While the Immortals had become accustomed to fine cuisine and soul meat, the Lainwright soldiers were not. Their last soul meat meal had been prepared haphazardly in colossal vats with minimal seasoning, resulting in a surprisingly appetizing gruel to enjoy at a shipping yard.
Still, it wasn't a fairy tale.
