The Empire's battle line stretched for two li. More than fifty thousand soldiers of the Free Folk Legion wore mismatched armor and carried all manner of weapons, their ranks drawn up as neatly as possible. The fighting spirit burning in their eyes was fiercer than ever.
At the very front of the left wing, the Stormcrows' three commanders sat astride their warhorses. Daario Naharis had chosen gold-trimmed leather armor for the occasion, and two curved blades gleamed at his waist.
"Look at this." He grinned at the army opposite them. "Much more exciting than those little skirmishes we took on in the Disputed Lands."
Ben Plumm glared at him. "Enough wisecracks. The men of New Ghis aren't third-rate sellswords."
"Bald" Pello rubbed his smooth scalp. "I heard that old fellow Loraq drove all his slaves to the rear and refused to arm them, afraid they'd turn on him."
"Smart move." Daario shrugged. "But it also means he doesn't have many cards left to play."
Across from them, the army of New Ghis had already formed up.
At the front stood ten thousand core soldiers of New Ghis. They wore black iron armor and helmets adorned with harpies, and carried spears and enormous square shields.
Behind them stood thirty thousand freemen, more poorly equipped but numerous. Farther back were tens of thousands of ragged slaves chained together, driven by whip-wielding overseers to carry arrows and stones.
Before the ranks, Loraq, commander of New Ghis, sat astride a tall black warhorse. Nearly fifty, he was a stern and cautious man.
"General." His adjutant rode up beside him. "The scouts report no sign of the Dragons."
Loraq narrowed his eyes. "If Viserys weren't here, they would never choose to face us head-on. They have nothing to gain from it."
"But our spies lost