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khaganate royals would push from here,
Nesryn and Prince Sartaq leading the ruks,
and Princess Hasar commanding the foot
soldiers and Darghan cavalry.
A brilliantly trained, lethal group. Rowan
had already marked the Darghan soldiers, with
their fine horses and armor, their spears and
crested helmets, while they’d strode for this
tent, and breathed a sigh of relief at their skill.
Perhaps the last sigh of relief he’d have in this
war. Certainly if the khagan’s forces hadn’t
yet decided where they would take this army
afterward.
He supposed it was fair—so many
territories were now in Morath’s path—but
when this battle was over, he’d make damn
sure they marched northward. To Terrasen.
But tomorrow—tomorrow they’d hammer
Morath’s legion against the keep walls, Chaol
and Rowan leading the men from inside,