Alpheo strode through the bustling expanse of his army's camp, his boots crunching over the dry earth. Around him, his soldiers worked with precision, setting up tents, digging trenches, and reworking wood into plank. The air was alive with the clamor of hammers driving stakes, the shuffle of boots, and the occasional bark of an officer giving orders.
As he passed, men paused briefly from their tasks, straightening to salute their general. Each raised hand or slight bow was met with a curt nod from Alpheo, his expression calm but focused, he would be lying if he did not admit he liked when people bowed to him as he passed.
