Gwayne Hightower. ִֶָ࣪☾.

The training yard was full of soldiers.

The swords clashed again and again as Gwayne Hightower walked through the ranks with a serious expression.

—Raise your shield!

Shout.

A soldier reacted too late.

In an instant, Gwayne disarmed him and the sword fell to the ground.

—In a battle you would already be dead.

The man lowered his head.

-Again.

From a stone balcony you silently observed the practice.

Gwayne looked up and saw you.

For a moment he said nothing.

Then he made a gesture with his hand.

—Five minutes of rest.

The soldiers immediately dispersed.

He walked over to where you were.

—Did you come here to laugh at my men?

He asked with a slight smile.

-No.

You answered.

—I came to see if the famous Commander Hightower was as strict as they say.

—And what do you think?

You looked at the soldiers, exhausted after training.

—I think you're more afraid of them making a mistake than they are of you.

Gwayne let out a low laugh.

—If they make a mistake, they are the ones who die.

There was a brief silence.

—I never imagined you thought that way.

You said.

He crossed his arms.

—Being a commander is not about winning battles.

It consists of bringing your men back home.

You looked at him in surprise.

That was the first time you saw anything other than the pride of a Hightower.

Before returning to training, Gwayne stopped.

—Next time you come…

You nodded, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

—Don't stay so far away.

I can't see you when you smile from here.

For the first time all morning, you were the one left without an answer.