I wrote the first few paragraphs on paper (I know, who uses paper now days?) so ye, might be a different style, I'm not sure.

   The seasons, as they always do, passed in their steady march; winter dissolving into spring, spring leaping into summer, summer grumbling into autumn and autumn finally yielding to winter until spring snuck in again. The wall surrounding the crumbling base slowly grew over the season's changes and the buildings inside sprouted and were steadily filled: carpet, furniture, lanterns, crops, weapons, wool, various supplies, raw ores and, slowly, people.

   They came in from the farthest reaches of the land, from the snow country to the desert to the ocean and mountain ranges. Some were simply lost, misguided on the way home: others wandered in from villages burned by the arrogance of various lords and their armies: and some were the sad remains of crushed armies, bruised, bloodied and sorry, grumbling against their former lord, vainly searching for some way to support themselves, some sort of safe haven.

   And a safe haven was what they found, both them and the many others who came across the newly built army base. Everyone who came was taken in and given food, water, shelter and safety. Optional training was offered and almost everyone who came participated in it. They were taught how to work together and how to defend themselves and their family using various weapons; with a whole village trained, they were a decent force for an army fresh out of battle.

   But another offer was made to all who came: to stay and to join their army, to go out and protect villages when it was needed but also to defend their own walls at times. And the moments did come when they had to stand upon the formidable stone, staring down the army milling on the other side; warning, but never offensive. More often than not, the army stalked away with their tails between their legs and these threats became fewer and fewer until finally, three years after Adam had first seen the crumbling stone, the peaceful army made their first tentative approach to a neighbouring army for peace.

   It took several false starts before they managed to sign off on a treaty and several more months before other lords grudgingly agreed to put down arms and come to the wooden table in the simple room in a plain house within the repaired walls. More often than not they glared at each other across the table while Jason sat between them and Mitch stood menacingly at the door, daring someone to make a hostile move. Yet, in only three years, the area that surrounded their base and had been caught in a pointless, raging war, faded into a sort of grudging peace that slowly spread until, six and a half years since Adam had joined their ranks, he and several others were riding through the country, going to check on a village overlooked by Lord Robert, one of the few lords who had still refused to make a treaty.

   It was almost summer in the lower reaches of the country but up here, the winter stuck around for longer. Although there was no snow, the air was frigid and Adam's breath steamed in the air, his nose stinging red. Thick gloves were on his hands and the jumper he wore was of a better quality than his old leather one which had finally given out a few years prior and possessed a hood lined with sheep's wool that tickled his ears.

   One of the men who rode beside him stood up in his stirrups, looking around the plain country. There were only a few gnarled trees that braced the freezing winters but the ground was a rolling grassy plain with rocks jutting up from the ground like rows of dull teeth. The man wore a jacket very similar to Adam's, and he had bright red hair cut close to his scalp. His skin had been tanned when Adam had first met him but it had become more pale over the years and his riding boots came up to his mid-calf. "I'm not seeing any villages," he said to Adam, sitting back down in his saddle. "It's supposed to be around here."

   "We've probably come a bit too far west," Adam said, a shiver buzzing through him. "But if the village was burned, we'll be able to see the smoke."

   "I wouldn't bet on that," the man said. "We don't have a time frame and heavy wind might have blown it away."

   Adam shrugged a little, scanning the land and skies to his left for any sign of a large army trapping though in the recent past or for traces of smoke. The jangle of the harnesses and sheathed weapons of the warriors and the occasional snorting of the horses made the scenery seem quite peaceful and serene, yet ge could see one of the several scouts they sent a few hours ago appearing in the distance, riding closer at a brisk pace.

   "General Adam. General Quentin," the warrior said, drawing to a halt next to them. "We've spotted the village. Two men have gone ahead to find any survivors but it looks pretty trashed."

   "Let's go then," Quentin said, gathering up the reins to his horse. The group of around two dozen warriors followed the scout at a canter, the two Generals only just behind him. Somehow over the years, Adam had become part of the core group of eight who managed the army, handled the negotiation of treaties and just generally made sure that everything ran smoothly. They had unconsciously opted to neglect the pompous title of 'lord', instead settling for the more simple title of 'general'. Quentin was the newest addition to this core group, arriving only two years earlier.

   The smoke of the village came into sight before the destroyed buildings did and the group slowed, not going in to disturb the final resting place of many innocent people. No one spoke as the reality was quite close to home for some of them. Finally, Adam nudged his horse with his toe, moving it so that the warriors were to his right, not behind him.

   "Split up into groups of three," he said. "Search for any possible hiding places like caves or ditches. If you find people, bring them back here. We'll set up camp a little away since we only have a few hours left until nightfall. And remember, don't attack until you are attacked."

   The men nodded and split off, riding in various directions. Adam, Quentin and the scout also joined the search, looking east of the village first. Adam gave another shiver and rubbed his hands together, which were still cold despite the gloves.

   "Is it just me, or did it get colder?" he asked Quentin, who shrugged.

   "Maybe, I haven't noticed."

   At the camp that night, they had a total of 23 people from the destroyed village huddled around various campfires, blankets around their shoulders, warm mugs of soup in their hands. They didn't speak much and what they did say was said in whispers, but each look they cast towards the warriors who guarded the camp showed the gratefulness they felt. Even here in the far north, they had heard of the peace-striving army. Adam was also huddled around one of the campfires, close to the flames. He still wore his thick jacket and although the fire was hot, he shivered occasionally. Footsteps came from behind him and Quentin eased himself down with a sigh, holding out a cup of soup for Adam while his other hand held his own.

   "Thanks," Adam said, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. The heat instantly started spreading to his nearly-numb fingers. "I have no idea why I'm this cold, it's stupid."

   "You getting sick?" Quentin suggested, taking a sip of the hot soup.

   "Maybe, but I don't feel like I am," Adam said thoughtfully while Quentin made a quiet sound of pain and stuck his tongue out, attempting to wave the heat off. Adam gave a chuckle. "Watch out, the soup's hot."

   "Thanks," the red-head said with an eye roll.

   They both sat in silence for a little, carefully sipping their soup while the rest of the camp quietened down, many of the village people dozing off to sleep. Quentin raised his eyes and examined the blinking stars above, shielding his face from the light of the fire to see better.

   "Did you see the star shower a few nights ago, before we left?" he asked in a soft voice.

   "Yeah," Adam nodded, also glancing up at the stars. "It was pretty cool."

   "Seto wouldn't stop talking about it the next morning. Kept saying something about molecular energy and magic and the speed at which the stars travelled. Jason was ecstatic about it too."

   "I wouldn't be surprised, they both are star nerds."

   The two men chuckled a little and returned to silence. Adam's hands still felt cold despite the heat of both the soup and the fire washing over him. He took another sip of the soup, feeling the hot liquid run down his throat and settle somewhere in his chest, momentarily heating him.

   "You reckon there's more people hiding around here?" he mumbled, taking a glance over his shoulder at the huddled forms of homeless villagers.

   "From the conversations I've been having with them, it's unlikely," Quentin said. "We might head out an hour after sunrise, get back home to where it's warm."

   "I'm all for that," Adam said. "Normally I'm okay with the cold, but I'd be happier for some warmer weather."

   "I thought you grew up in the tundra though," the other mused. "It's supposed to be really cold there, right?"

   "Yeah, it is." Adam shrugged. "I guess I just climatised."

   "Probably, I know I did." Quentin finished off his soup and stood up with a groan. "I'll check on the rotation of guards and then I'll hit the sack. Goodnight."

   He strolled off, his shadow flickering against the cold grass. Adam glanced down at his empty cup and briefly reasoned that he should take it to the kitchen, but the notion of leaving the fire put him off and he set it down next to the firestones. He had brought his bedroll when he had first sat down and he rolled up in it, his jacket still on, pulling the material up to his chin. The fire was hot on his face but when he balled up his hands into fists, his fingers were cold. Even so, the heat of the fire and the building warmth in his bedroll was enough to finally carry him off to sleep.