They were powerless.
In any other war, against any other commander, a light riding force would have used its mobility to dance. They would have skirmished at a distance, stinging with javelins and melting away before the Kakunian steel could bite.
It was the "competent" thing to do, the strategy that had bled armies dry at the Bleeding Plains, at the Two Eagles, and under the sweltering sun of Apurvio.
It was a slow, agonizing death by a thousand cuts.
Latio had braced for that. He had expected to receive, and receive, and receive, until the casualties broke their spirit.
But the Hounds did not follow the scrolls, even the very one they had made themselves. With a single, fluid posture, they stripped the Kakunians of their only teeth.Like a dancer managing to disarm a man without him even aknowledging it.
