Gorman stood back and watched the town go up in flames. Tomas stood with him, arms crossed, silent as always. As the warriors returned from battle carrying the spoils they'd saved, Gorman's eyes narrowed. His own squad had underperformed. Some of them were caught letting their targets go for one excuse or another, and it angered him. They weren't there when the alliance of humans, elves, and dwarves slaughtered his kin like they were livestock. They weren't there when the "heroes" decapitated women and children and celebrated it as a "righteous victory." These townsfolk didn't deserve mercy.

Then again, his warriors [i]weren't[/i] there. They [i]hadn't[/i] seen the atrocities committed firsthand. They couldn't be blamed for their inability to time travel. Gorman took a deep breath and closed his eyes to calm his temper. If no one else understood, Tomas did. Tomas was one of the few survivors of the massacre, and though he wasn't part of Gorman's army at the time, their shared experience brought them together as friends. He couldn't speak, or even read, but his unwavering loyalty struck a chord in the old Captain's heart.

Could Erjak teach him to read?

Gorman pushed all other thoughts aside as his warriors drew within shouting distance. "REPORT ALL YOUR SPOILS AND PILE THEM BEHIND ME! THEN LINE UP FOR DEBRIEFING!"