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.
