Chapter 187: Running against time (2)
Chapter 187: Running against time (2)
Marthio stepped out of the tent, the flaps falling behind him with a dull thud, and he immediately heard a commotion stirring from the camp's edge. Shouts, hurried footsteps, and the low murmur of soldiers speaking filled the air.His feet moved faster as he approached the growing crowd, and then he saw it—what the scout had been stammering about.
Over 300 men were pouring into the camp, a motley procession of soldiers and... something far worse.
At the front of the group, about forty men wore the standard-issue armor of imperial light riders, their dark breastplates gleaming under the fading sunlight.
These men moved with discipline, holding their spears and swords with the ease of veterans. They were clearly the riders that Tyros brought with him as he marched to the defense of the Fingers.
Behind them, however, the real oddity began to filter through. Hundreds of men—barely looking like soldiers at all—ambled in. They had no armor, no shields, and no helmets to speak of. Instead, they wore furs and animal pelts draped over their shoulders, some of them little more than ragged cloaks. Their faces were smeared with dirt, and their eyes were sharp, feral even. Their weapons were crude—bows slung over their backs, others gripping rusty daggers or battered lances.
Marthio's stomach tightened as he watched them enter his camp. Bandits. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Tyros had brought back with him bandits
His jaw clenched as he surveyed the chaotic procession. What has that damned fool gotten us into now?