The camp buzzed with muted activity as Lucius and Marcus walked through its heart, their boots kicking up thin clouds of dry dirt. Their weapons and helmets had been returned, the polished steel of their armor catching the dim light Both men carried themselves with the poise of seasoned fighters.
Lucius's pale blonde hair, slightly tousled beneath his helmet, gleamed like gold. His eyes swept the camp with a faint look of amusement, though his face betrayed nothing. Beside him, Marcus walked too his sharp gaze dissecting every detail of the rebel settlement. Even though the had been officers for less than a month, they knew from their experience as soldier that was not how camp should look like
Sprawled in disorganized chaos—crude tents patched together from scraps of cloth and leather dotted the area. Smoke spiraled lazily from small cookfires, and children darted between the tents, their faces dirtied but curious.
