Winters was utterly unaware of what was happening behind him.
All he could do was to urge his troops to keep moving, moving, moving.
The emergence of the Hurd cavalry was like an invisible whip, fiercely lashing across the backs of the Paratu People, and all at once, the speed of the march sharply increased.
"Centurion Montaigne," Colonel Jeska called Winters to his side, his expression extremely serious, "take your centuria as the vanguard. Control the pace, slow it down."
"Slow it down?"
Colonel Jeska released his right hand that had been checking his pulse and pointed at the column, saying, "The troops are currently marching at a pace of one hundred twenty-six steps per minute. They're fast because they are afraid. What use is there in hurrying when we still have hundreds of kilometers ahead of us?"
"Understood." Winters raised his hand in salute, steered his horse, and was about to leave.
"Bring the speed down, walk at the regular rhythm."
