CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Godfrey, dressed in the enemy’s ill-fitting armor, walked awkwardly, feeling conspicuous, trying to look natural. He realized, too late, that the corpse he had stripped was his same height, but thinner than he; he cursed himself for drinking one too many ales in his life as he felt his belly and shoulders bulge against the armor. He only hoped it did not give him away.
Other than that, Godfrey looked at himself and at the others, and was amazed at how much he resembled an Empire soldier. Especially with his face plate pulled down, he couldn’t even tell the difference between himself and one of Andronicus’s men. The weapons on his belt were of fine quality, too, a long and short sword, a dagger, a short spear and a flail, all a glossy black and yellow, bearing the markin
