The army that came back through the main gate was smaller than the one that had marched out.
The city understood what that meant before a single name was read aloud.
No cheers met the soldiers.
People lined the road, watching in silence, taking the measure of what they saw, waiting for the truth before deciding how to feel.
A woman near the gate spotted her husband somewhere in the ranks and crossed to him without a word.
Farther down the line, another searched three ranks over and never found the face she wanted. She stood there until a neighbor finally took her gently by the arm and led her away.
Fenn walked back through that very gate under his own strength, leaner than when he'd left and already arguing with a foundry crew over who had been covering his position.
Wath's arm never healed right. He carried that injury the same way every man who returned carried something home with him, whether anyone else could see it or not.
