"Hey, Old Gailoite, have a sip... The southern nobles are slacking off, this month's supplies are late again, but there's at least some good stuff left in the cellar, right? At least it'll warm you up when facing Anstali."
"Save it for me, I might need it when I come down from above."
Gailoite pushed aside the deer leather pouch handed to him by his colleague, wiped the frost off his beard, and squinted up at the tall watchtower. The wooden watchtower stood like a lone giant, perched on this snow-covered rock, gazing out at the dark distant forest.
The Watchers called these towers the 'Grey Giants', and there wasn't just one of them; they were distributed along the border of the forest, with a line of vigilance established in the long summer, watching over the shadow under the Dragon Roar Mountains.
