Smoke and rat corpses defiled the emerald grasslands.
After wiping out a horde of rats five times their number, the warriors' spirits had lifted noticeably.
But better spirits did nothing to ease their thirst or the scorching heat. Soren thought for a moment, then ordered them to skin the rats and drape the hides over themselves for shade.
Wrapped in rat hides, the cavalry looked like barbarians in "rat-skin cans." Still, it did take the edge off the heat.
Soren walked up to the two survivors and asked, "Where's the nearest forest? And the nearest water?"
"River, none. Trees, there..." One Ratfolk pointed north.
"You're lying. Your clan is over there," Soren said coldly.
"Not lie. Human Things chased us..."
The Slave Rats weren't bright enough to explain themselves. Soren assumed they had been scattered by the Dimon Kingdom's army and had slipped through its net.
But now that he had confirmed what he needed, he drew his Short Sword and sent them to meet the Great Horned Rat.
Ordinarily, Soren might have felt like taking a prisoner back. But the mission came first, and he couldn't drag along two burdens.
Then Soren raised his head and called out, "There's a forest to the north! We can rest when we get there!"
"Huff... huff... huff..."
Frank sounded like a bellows.
As a Military Academy graduate, he had undergone some training and mastered the Breathing Method. But he was still just a civilian.
The Plate Armor weighed at least twenty pounds and lacked the special lining that would spread the strain across his shoulders. Before long, Frank's arms felt as though they no longer belonged to him, as though they might fall off.
The Complaining Soldier spoke up beside him. "If you can't handle it, give it back."
"Who says