Status Updates From The Last Shield

Her father had taught her that, routing greater numbers of brigands simply by having a couple of warriors approach the flanks of the enemy, blowing their horns and making as much noise as they could, while he charged in from the front.

All veteran warriors knew, when their hands and feet grew clumsy and their weapons heavy, to heed their body’s message – those who didn’t would die when they might otherwise have survived to fight again.

Rage erupted inside her, its burning need for vengeance welcomed, so long as she was its master, not its slave.

Glory doesn’t keep you warm at night. Glory does not regrow severed limbs and heal broken bones. Seeking glory only gets those around you killed, and even if you survived to bask in it, I promise you would come to regret that sacrifice.

The regent’s dog, Brutus, sat at attention beneath a hanging haunch of beef, ever hopeful for somebody to drop something he could steal and scoff down. The kitchen was his favourite place in the entire palace, for obvious reasons.

“So what if you are afraid of the dark?” she said. “I promise you, boy, you should be far more afraid of me and that assassin out there than any evil spirit.”

Briar scowled at the lazy little stinker, entirely envious of his morning nap. He cracked an eyelid and grinned in that particularly smug way animals do when they know they are winning at the game of life.