The Elite Squad held off the Rat Swarm. Hellfire arrived soon after and wiped out the small group, then climbed a nearby Mountain and made camp.
The exhausted refugees were gathered in a clearing.
Holding a boy burning with fever, Valentan could not help asking the cavalryman escorting him, "Are you cavalry from the Tartun Empire?"
"No. We're from Free City."
"But every one of you has a magic weapon..."
Valentan had not been running around blindly. When these soldiers appeared, he had seen the tips of their "magic spears" burst with fierce light and noise, trailing wisps of blue smoke. In the distance, Ratfolk had fallen row after row.
"You'll find out soon enough."
Two tents had been set up beside the clearing. A bonfire burned by the one on the left, where food was being prepared. At the one on the right, the refugees lined up to register one by one.
Valentan used his strength and size to push toward the front. Soon it was his turn.
"Name."
"Valentan."
The cavalryman behind the table looked up. "Your child?"
"No... Yes."
"Tell me the truth."
"He's Ursula's grandson..."
Valentan was ready to tell him how bravely Ursula had fought, but the soldier did not ask.
"Where did you come from?"
"We all fled Brunmando Fort. The Ratfolk have taken it."
"How many survivors are there?"
"I don't know. We got scattered... There were over a thousand of us to start with. Now there can't be even half that many..."
"Five hundred and thirty-six."
Someone entered the tent and gave the current number of survivors.
Valentan looked at him. Unlike the cavalryman registering them, whose Plate Armor was clean, this man had a scarlet rat's head and blood painted across the chest of his armor. Violence and ferocity seemed to