In the dark countryside, one hundred knights marched as one man. Their banner was high, and their steps unified, the armours clanking as they moved forward. The tension was so dense that the knife would cut through it as the piece of cake, yet no word was spoken.
Vincent wiped the sweat on his forehead, unsure whether he should open his mouth or not. In the darkness, they were led by a strong figure, a commander who was by their side for many battles as they stood against the demon race. But this was the first time when they felt like at the doorstep of hell as they followed him.
Gant made a low grunting sound the catch the vice-commander's attention, and when Vincent looked at him, he signalled something by pointing his head.
'Talk to him!' He mouthed soundlessly.
'You do it!' Vincent returned the request.
They challenged one another with their eyes for a while, until the wind mage finally gave up.
