““The Decurion was their antithesis. Sharp-featured and starkly handsome, with every angle of him like a honed blade edge. A walking weapon, without adornment or decoration. When he turned to meet my gaze, I became acutely aware of my own appearance. Of the state of my tattered dress, the skirt scratchy and stiff with dirt. My hair hung in filthy ropes, and the dirt was so thick on my skin I was sure I looked like I’d been rolling in a swine wallow.””
