The sun was finally rising after a long, tense night. Where, when Velnashar last saw this land, it was a fertile farm, just over half the fields were scorched black under the morning sun, and two of the barns were likewise destroyed. Sergeant Althar walked slowly through the wreckage he and his men had spent so long over night trying to protect, and stops at the line that marks the edge of the destruction, where they had finally managed to stop the fire. If truth be told, Althar had been quite suspicious of joining Erathil, but when Warryn had offered his people sanctuary, it seemed only right to continue to protect his people here. The idea of marching to war under the High Elves' banner was not an appealing thought, but...
He turns his back on the destruction and looks across the farmland before him, allowing a sense of satisfaction to push his exhaustion aside. This, he could live with. Then he turns back to his men, waiting patiently by the edge of the destruction, and particularly to the shadow elf scout who'd been only slightly more use than the pair of fire elves last night. "Well?"
"Definitely deliberate, sir. Some beast-kin, by the tracks, rat or mouse, but the fire wiped out most of it."
Sergeant Althar's expression, always neutral, became positively rigid at this news. The destruction of the farm meant less food for the people of the new Kingdom, and any fool could see that it wouldn't be the army who'd starve. This 'Clandestine' was a clear threat to his people. "We search the area. Thoroughly. I want to have something to report on those vandals by this evening."
From the shadows and cover offered by one of the surviving fields, a pair of small eyes cautiously watch the soldiers.
Circusite, Ref(!?) and general lunatic.