The soldiers, garbed in light leathers, mill about the camp. It’s hard to count how many—the tents are pitched in clearings here and there, as space allows. Sweat shines on their faces, and many fan themselves with their shields in the overwhelming humidity of the jungle. Many sharpen spearpoints or repair armor; others pass the time with dice and cards. Most simply sit, nursing drinks, wondering how the hell they ended up here, and when they get to go home.

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