The guards at the army barracks gate recognized Beorn at once. One lifted a hand in acknowledgment, then returned immediately to the change-of-post sequence. No one broke formation for him.
That was how it should be.
He passed through the gate and into the yard before it had fully closed behind him.
Training occupied both sections of the grounds.
The larger section followed the standard blank-fire rotation. The near rank drilled pistol loading. The far rank worked with Sceotans. Each group alternated through the sequence that had become routine over the past season.
The routine itself hadn't changed.
The numbers had.
Beorn studied the far rank as he crossed the yard.
There had once been a time when Sceotans were rare enough to draw attention whenever they appeared. Production limitations had ensured that. A company performed well, received a handful of the weapons, and treated them almost as a privilege.
That was no longer true.
