The campfire cracked and hissed, throwing its smoke into the night air. The Crimson Calling alone around it.
Alexis sat near the flames, hat brim low, a copper coin working its way over his knuckles. Across from him, Ca’armine’s red cloak caught the firelight, while Rask sat rigid, a soldier even when still.
Ethelred’s words about troll-powder still hung in the air, fragments of theory and half-formed warnings. Alexis let them fade, then leaned forward just enough to set his shadow across the fire. His voice carried evenly, with the kind of weight that didn’t need raising.
“You’ve heard what we’ve seen,” he said. “Trolls. Powder. What it does. That’s the measure of it so far.” The coin paused between his fingers, then rolled again, catching a lick of firelight before vanishing back into shadow.
He studied the two newest men in the group, letting the silence stretch a breath longer than comfort. “What about you? Raiden’s people don’t waste time. Do they know more about this enemy?”
The fire popped. The coin clicked once against his ring before disappearing back into motion. Alexis didn’t move otherwise, just watched them across the flames, steady and expectant.