General Lestor drilled his men despite the cold, ignoring their muffled grumbles. They needed exercise, needed to get out of the damned fortress and work their muscles. They had been lazing around, and their touchy tempers, were beginning to cause problems. There had been a fight earlier that morning, and he had enough.
Sparring in a snowstorm seemed suitable punishment for all of them, even to those who had stood by and cheered the combatants on.
He stood by, watching, occasionally wading in and working on a move with them until it was seamless, smooth and deadly. This was what would see them free of the Hibernian threat. Because for some reason he knew for certainty that spring would bring war.
There was no sign that he could point to, only intuition, something he had honed through t
