Every hundred steps, a temporary outpost could be seen, with iron plates nailed to wooden stakes. Behind the plates stood fully armed soldiers, their crossbows perpetually taut.
As the knight patrol turned the street corner, pedestrians fell to the ground like stalks of wheat swept by the wind.
No one needed reminding; the rules here were evidently ingrained in their bones.
Commoners had to kneel, with their foreheads touching the ground and their hands spread open.
Someone who was a beat slow was directly kicked over by the front hooves of a warhorse, rolled half a circle on the stone slabs, and then stomped on by the hooves from behind.
A scream echoed, yet the procession did not stop, the knights didn't even glance down.
Valerius dismounted his horse as well.
The cold of the stone slabs seeped through his knees, leaving him with a nameless absurdity.
Continuing forward, a commotion arose from a side street.
