The mess hall was a spacious, open series of tents surrounded by cookfires. The camp I had stayed in before left cooking up to each squad, yet that must have been too inefficient for this many soldiers. A large, pot-bellied man stood surveying the gathered line of soldiers, shouting orders and smacking heads with his ladle whenever one got out of line.
Most soldiers returned to their tents to eat or sat on the ground around the mess hall. But as we approached, Sarra waved us over to one of the few tables beneath the shade of the canvas. They must have been reserved for officers because a few low-ranking captains were glaring at the fourth-level mage, disgruntled with being displaced. However, their expressions changed the moment they caught sight of us, and they sharply saluted before leaving without further complaint.
"Ah, there's the wolf!"
