The knights, cold and unyielding as steel, gave no quarter.
These were no ragtag militia scraped together by the border town's desperate resources.
They were the King's Third Guard. Elite warriors of the Knight Path. Extraordinary beings trained and equipped to face any foe.
Their magic warhorses moved with unnatural grace, and their lances, each a weapon of devastating power; glinted with deadly intent. Even the lance that William carried had originated from this very corps, a remnant of a knight who had once served in their ranks.
There was no hesitation in their charge, no wasted movement.
The ten knights met the three elite werewolves head-on, their lances striking true.
Puff!
Blood sprayed into the air as three massive wolf heads were severed in an instant, their bodies crushed beneath trampling hooves.
The remaining werewolves recoiled in terror, but the knights did not relent.
