In the darkness, Horace finally saw the first glimpses that he was getting close to August's position. The Ammary troops looked battered, their appearance filthy with tired looks. Yet even in what looked like their worst moment, they didn't lose their abilities. Seeing a rider approach, a small force quickly readied their arms and watched.
Horace raised his hands as he came forward and finally entered the light. Flashing a smile at the soldiers, he spoke. "Horace Underwell. Please take me to Duke Flanders." Jumping off his horse, Horace handed over his family's insignia and patiently waited.
One of the men ran off, and after a few minutes, gave the okay for Horace to enter. Deeper into the camp, he could tell how bad the battle had gone for the Empire. They had gotten used to easy victories, so seeing Ammary men groaning and crying out in pain as their wounds were being treated was rare.
