"Can I join?" the veteran champion asked first.
The question came quicker than Ludwig expected, and it wasn't asked with bravado.
The lizardman's voice carried that dry steadiness of someone who had lived long enough to understand that safety was never free. The Champion stood with his shoulders squared despite the lingering sickness in his tribe, chest mark visible now like a new layer of skin that didn't belong. His eyes kept flicking between Ludwig and the west as if the horizon itself was a threat.
"Oh, I thought you'd rest since you got a skip."
"I'd rather work hard now to rest later," he replied.
"Good, yes, you can, who else wants to go?" Ludwig asked.
He raised his voice only enough to carry across the gathered lizardmen and orcs, cutting through the low hum of post-battle cleanup, ropes tightening, broken weapons being piled, someone dragging a shattered shield away from a doorway.
