The Mad Wolf Chief was a notorious brute in the Gray Soil Tundra.
Countless tales of evil from the Gray Soil Tundra involved him and his lackeys. Some had been pinned on him unfairly, but most were true.
Mention the Mad Dog Duke, werewolves, or barking Kobolds, and a wailing child would keep crying. But whisper, "Shh. Keep crying and the Mad Wolf Chief will come for you," and the child would hold back his tears and shut his mouth.
Other bandits merely liked robbery and murder. The Mad Wolf Chief was different. He drank from human skulls, took headless beautiful women to bed, and even dared to strip nobles naked and roast them over a fire—
But faced with an organized Legion whose every member was a well-equipped Professional, even a brute like him was as helpless as Martin facing Susan and Uncle Holin together.
He wanted to flee, only to find that Annan had shut the door behind him.
It wasn't as though the Mad Wolf Chief had never fought soldiers. Noble Private Troops, lords' knights, even the Grand Duke's Cavalry—he had killed eighty of them, if not a hundred.
He knew their weaknesses. Noble Private Troops feared death; a little intimidation, bribery, and show of force could send them running. Lords' knights still clung to old codes. Force a village woman to deliver poisoned food or threaten civilians' lives, and they would surrender.
The Grand Duke's Cavalry were even less united. A few silver coins could buy a city guard willing to reveal the soldiers' movements, letting him avoid them or even wipe them out.
But now they were telling him these powerful, disciplined, well-equipped Legions that obeyed every order and made the guards wary were Duchy soldiers!?
Where had that useless Grand Duke pulled them from?