Aot Garrison Novels & Stories

"No need. I know where she is." "You do?" Adam frowned. Everyone in the room turned to face him, breath baited in anticipation. "Well?" "I cross-referenced all the buildings owned by his father with ones due for demolition in the next two days. Felix was pretty specific when he said she only had a couple of days, right?" Jamie explained. "The whole Garrison complex is about to be paved over to make parking for the new shopping centre." Adam asked the only question he needed to know. "Where is it?"

"That used to be you." "I retired," Tristan said. "Now I'm just the snake charmer." They reached the edge of the plateau, looking down into the Industrial Sector. The Garrison was a fortress of black iron nestled between two massive factories. Steam was pouring from every vent. Even from this distance, they could hear the shouts of confused troopers and the clank-hiss of malfunctioning machinery. "The blast doors are sealed," Tristan noted. "Helena did her job. They're trapped inside." BOOM.

“That should be most of the soldiers in your army and I dare say Angus once fitted into that category.” Octavius joined him in laughing. Garius walked until he stood side by side beside Octavius. He looked down at the village, at the people who moved about talking to each other at the top of their voices, it was so loud it was a wonder they could hear themselves at all. Gustoff, now old and bent was leading some young boys who carried bags of what looked like spoiled tools and weapons, the youngest one at the back carried two blackened pots and a pan. On another side, some priests were pulling sheep and goats towards temples all in preparation for the crowning ceremony.

POV: Rose We reached the Mourne Pass garrison at dusk, which was either fortunate or engineered, depending on how much you trusted coincidence. I had stopped trusting coincidence approximately three weeks ago, so I arrived already watching. The garrison was built into the rock face, the way Ironmoor had been — but where Ironmoor felt like a weapon, this felt like a statement. Something planted here so long ago it had become indistinguishable from the stone. The gates were closing for the night when we came around the final bend, and the guard on the wall had a crossbow at rest and the face of a man who considered rest a negotiable arrangement.