Chapter FortyElzor tugged at the clasp of his borrowed cloak, gazing down with amusement at the Agrusian emblem that adorned the front of his armor. Two crossed swords. A symbol of strength.
Useless and meaningless. He and Elzaria had shown Agrus what true power was. It would be years, perhaps decades, before Agrus regained its former glory, if it ever did. Leaderless and defenseless, the once proud kingdom now lay ripe for the picking.
He slowed his merych to a brisk trot, his sharp eyes darting left and right, searching the forest of reesa trees for a potential enemy. Langon and Brynak, riding right behind him and similarly disguised, remained vigilant as well.
For the thousandth time, he questioned whether Elzaria's judgment had been sound when outlining this foolhardy plan. Not sinc
