Carlos Shattered Axe was born into the Shattered Axe Tribe, the chieftain's own son.
Yet that day, Titus's battle-axe split his father's helmet, sending blood spraying yards away.
Carlos roared and lunged at him, only for the whispers of the Sorrowflame Vine Court to worm into his ears a moment later.
They directly altered the anger in his heart, turning his hatred over his father's death into a pool of stagnant water.
When he raised his head again, his father's killer had become his master, his enemy his faith.
From then on, he followed Titus with a newfound loyalty and was personally chosen by him as one of his rising talents.
But when his orders sent him southeast this time, his heart was filled with contempt.
The main force was locked in a bloody struggle with the tough bastards of the Empire's Northern Frontier, yet he had been reassigned to attack some desolate backwater?
The southeastern defensive line? To him, it was nothing but remote ridges and ravines, guarded by the Empire's most marginal ragtag troops.
Even if they had a few knights, they could not withstand the onslaught of his five thousand elite soldiers.
This was no battle for honor. It was a waste of his chance to earn glory on the main battlefield.
Over the days of marching south from Ice Sea Commandery, his disdain proved justified.
His army easily crushed the scattered Imperial garrisons along the route through Ice Sea Commandery, like hunting wolves tearing apart snow hares.
Those soldiers did not even have time to sound their horns before axes and spears overwhelmed them in the snow.
Victory came so easily that he found it tedious.
When he stood at the entrance to Clearfeather Ridge's valley and saw the snow-covered cliffs towering into the clouds on