"Duchess, what is going on?" General Lytton's face contorted with anger and concern as he stared at his soldier inside the prison. The frigid air in the northern place seemed to mirror the frosty atmosphere surrounding them.
Since they had no way of isolating the soldiers, they resorted to confining them inside the cramped garrisons, hoping to contain whatever mysterious affliction plagued them.
Rosalind, furrowed her brow, her lips thinning as she cast her gaze upon the five men imprisoned before her. The prison cells were already small to begin with. It barely accommodated its current occupants.
"When did this start?" she inquired, her voice laced with a mix of worry and authority.
