The Little Princess of the Silver Elves pondered for a moment before immediately estimating the distance.
"So there's no need to waste any more time, Lord. A quarter of an hour is enough for tireless undead to walk a mile. Beyond that range, even if we mapped out the edge of this forest, it wouldn't be of much use."
Brando nodded and said to the Chancellor's daughter beside him, "Delphine, send the Skeleton Soldiers into the forest. We'll follow shortly. Keep an eye on those sailors and don't let them act alone."
The Chancellor's daughter nodded. She knew Brando wasn't watching over those Ghost Chariot sailors because he was worried about what they might do—or rather, he was doing it to protect them.
As a noble, her lord was truly far too softhearted. She couldn't help thinking that, though she would never say it aloud.
Orders were quickly passed down through the ranks. In fact, emotionless, tireless undead were far more efficient at carrying out orders than intelligent creatures. The factor that had originally limited the distance they could operate was also eliminated by Brando's new organizational method. This undead squad almost felt completely renewed.
This was also the most frightening aspect of the forces of the Moon of the Dead. Their lowest-ranking soldiers required almost no training and were already the finest professional soldiers. They were rigid, but rigidity was not necessarily a disadvantage.
The sailors were somewhat resistant to entering this Crystal Forest. Sailors who traveled the seas were the most superstitious group in this era, because the ever-changing weather easily inspired awe toward nature in them. They believed that storms at sea were the Storm God's rage, that fog was produced by sirens' songs, and that sea monsters existed. They believed in almost every mysterious force.
But