The ridge overlooking the secondary trench was cold, steep, and lacking in comfortable seating.
Elian lay flat on his stomach in the frozen mud, peering over the edge of the cliff. Next to him, Ambrose was doing the same, though the White Lotus had conjured a small [System Cushion - 15 LP] to protect his chest from the dirt.
"You couldn't have bought two of those?" Elian hissed, shivering as the freezing ground seeped through his tunic.
"I am on a fixed income, Player Three," Ambrose whispered back, adjusting his binoculars. "Besides, suffering builds character. Or so the peasants say."
Below them, the battlefield was a tense, holding pattern. The Northern infantry had fortified the narrow secondary pass. Cassian was at the front line, an imposing figure of dark steel, pacing like a caged wolf.
