"Sir, we've been waiting for you for a long time."
After a few deep breaths, Lincoln seemed to have barely calmed his emotions.
He, only half-grown, stood among the fully mature Sintra People, half a head shorter than the average height.
But being a scribe initially led by Hacksaw, and later by Lann as a lower-level commander.
He gained prestige in the army through his qualifications and skills.
Thus, he merely waved his hand, and everyone streamed out neatly from the camp behind him with a 'swish' sound, stepping aside to make way for Lann.
Lann walked calmly forward, meeting the eyes of these men who once broke through military formations under his command.
Their eyes still burned with fire, steadfast, dedicated, explosive...
Lann suddenly realized something.
These men had not slackened in the time he was away, neither physically nor mentally.
