Dust billowed along the path out of the village as a company of knights rode toward them. There were so many knights that they seemed intent on surrounding the village. At the very least, they had blocked the road. Rank upon rank, they formed something like a wall of flesh. They clearly meant no good.
Bagralim barred their way and seized the initiative. "Who are you?"
Should we run? No. Zhao Si and his companions were envoys of the Two Fingers, sent to investigate Windmill Village. Every villager was a murderer who skinned people, and they had risen up and tried to attack the envoys. They deserved to be killed.
Morally, logically, and legally, Zhao Si and his companions were in the right. Why should they run? Fleeing would only make them look guilty.
They would meet whatever came their way. Bagralim was not unprepared, either. His newly acquired Godslayer's Greatsword rested on his shoulder, ready to swing out and reap lives at any moment.
The knights approached in fine attire on spirited horses, their armor gleaming. Riders and mounts alike were fully armored, with surcoats draped over the armor. The exposed metal reflected a cold light, clattering as they rode. They all wore the Golden Dynasty's standard armor, modified with the distinctive style of their own faction.
Red feathers adorned the tops of their helmets, and the small shields over their left breasts bore Rykard's emblem. All of this identified them as Gelmir Knights, knights under Rykard's command. Inquisitors rode among them as well.
The standard-bearers in the front rank held Rykard's banners high, proclaiming their allegiance and warning any petty scoundrels along the way to keep their eyes open and not cross the wrong people.
Bagralim knew who they were, of course, but he still had to ask.