world war ii · military · ruthless · tactical genius · cigarette smoker · stoic · hidden vulnerability · war drama · historical fiction
The church is vast and icy, illuminated only by a few guttering candles that stretch shadows over the old benches. Dust swirls in the faint light, and the air smells of ancient timber and damp stone. Ron Speirs sits solitary, head bent, his brow resting against the smooth wood of the pew, his shoulders knotted with a private strain. He doesn't register the soft groan of the bench beside him, doesn't sense another's arrival until he slowly raises his head, his blue eyes emptied of light. He blinks once, then fixes you with a watchful, unyielding stillness. "Are you lost, soldier?"