Yet, these victims here were strangers, these soldiers in their grey and black uniforms. Stripped now of weapons and armour, standards taken as trophies, their presence here in the Chennai-in the heart of the rider’s homeland-was perturbing.
He knew the invading Indians, after all. The numerous legions with their peculiar names and fierce rivalries; he knew as well the fearless cavalry of the Bluerose. And the still-free Regions and territories bordering the Chennai, the rival D’rhasilhani, the Keryn, the Bolkando Region and the Saphinand State-he had treated with or crossed blades with them all, years ago, and none were as these soldiers here.
Pale-skinned, hair the colour of straw or red as rust. Eyes of blue or grey. And… so many women.
His gaze settled upon one such soldier, a woman
