By now, all the units of the vanguards on the shore were having their hands full with the lords, just as the late Jesper had surmised.
But things were not really looking good for the cadets at this point. Out of the one hundred and fifteen who had stepped onto the shore as vanguards, more than half of that number had already been killed.
Yet the remaining still held their ground and fought because that was the only option available for them at this point.
As they clashed in a desperate circle of steel and magic, the sun was slowly retreating behind the jagged horizon, surrendering the sky to a bruising purple as dusk began to bleed into the world.
Yet this detail escaped the notice of those locked in the fray, for their world had narrowed down to the panicked rhythm of their own breathing and the singular, primal need to kill or be killed.
