Gathering "I still can't believe they made you a tribune! Now even the commanders have cracked," snorted Kyrax. Talaos laughed and looked around the table at his fellow Madmen. He'd rolled up the sides of their new command tent to let in the mid-morning air, and could see the piled canvas of the other tents that would soon go up to make their own section of the camp. Before them was a big platter of good food now half finished, and some watered wine. Vulkas was grinning in between huge bites of breakfast. "Nice armor," the giant said to Talaos, with an edge that would have pleased Adriko. "Nice that you have armor, I'd say, Talaos," added Larogwan. "Though I must admit, Vulkas, you're looking a bit shinier too." It was true, thought Talaos, between his apparent new fame in the camp, Adriko's surprisingly large network of strings to pull, a rich haul of spoils, and his new rank, he'd managed to requisition, buy, swap, or scavenge enough to equip everyone far better than they'd been two days before.
What do You think about The Storm's Own Son (Book 2)?
