Hefting the heavy dual metal blade that I had been gifted years ago, I admired its surface before looking around the various walls around the clearing, wondering from where and how the Cultists would show up.
The moons above were almost at their zenith, midnight drawing ever closer as yet another day crept by without much happening, the reality of any sort of battle makings itself known once more as we idly patrolled the plaza and the walls.
Most of the time in a war was spent waiting for something to happen so that you could plan an appropriate reaction before executing said reaction; more time was spent waiting, traveling, or preparing than actually fighting, and that was where most warriors tended to fester, mental wounds slowly worsening or appearing as you were given time to think and overanalyze things.
