After playing cards and drinking till most of them went back to sleep, Warden looked for a spot to practise his rune smithing. The main camp was littered with people even during the night, many on patrol, many training or just playing around.
With a thought, Warden decided to go back near the banks of the stream. That was probably the soundest place in the front lines to practise the runes as far as he was concerned.
A slow cold wind blew, chillier than usual, kissing his cheeks as he settled down under a ridge, the unreal sight before his eyes. He brought out a light construct along with his instruments. And finally, a shield made out of Tier-9 alloy and other expensive material—which he was to carve the scripts on.
Warden withdrew the paper glued to the unadorned shield to read what kind of runes were commissioned for? He had an idea, but after reading the necessary details, he was sure he could finish this up within four hours.
