Watching the tall, well-equipped elite warriors pursue the Ratfolk with meticulous precision, slaughter them without a wasted movement, and finish off the wounded, the imperial cavalrymen felt as though they were seeing their former selves.
A squad broke away from the red angels and headed straight toward them.
Gary drew a deep breath and was about to speak when a soldier stepped forward.
"Are you cavalrymen from Free City?" he asked tentatively.
Those distinctive muskets, that well-equipped, standardized legion—no one but that young sorcerer would do things this way.
But when had his legion become so formidable?
Just a year ago, they had needed to make a dea—trade with the Ratfolk to take second place.
The captain in the lead removed his helmet. Sweat trapped beneath it rose as mist in the cold of the Far North.
"I'm Link, a Centurion of the Hellfire Legion. Are you..."
He hesitated too, unable to be sure. The soldiers before him hardly looked better off than refugees.
"We're cavalrymen of the Blackwatch Legion."
Link let out a long breath and had his deputy signal the Reconnaissance Airship overhead: target confirmed. Finally... it was over.
The soldiers breathed easier. Gunfire along the beach grew sparse as the fighting wound down.
"Are... are you the only ones left?" Link asked.
He was a Hellfire veteran who had taken part in the Expeditionary Army. He knew the size of Blackwatch's force, yet there were fewer than sixty men here, and they had been captives.
Where were the others? Had they scattered?
"There are more! We came out to contact reinforcements!"
With their comrades at stake, they could no longer stay calm or orderly. They all spoke at once, trying to explain.
Their overlapping voices made Link's head spin. He had to cut them off. "Our Legion