It was of little consolation that the dogs almost always won.
In a matter of minutes, four thousand men were standing lined up on the parade grounds. Today was the last day that they’d stand like that. Tomorrow, the Legion would cross the border and go to Arabist. But they wouldn’t fight. No, they’d pillage, burn, and r**e, but not fight. The Seventh Legion was to become Arabist’s worst nightmare; such was the king’s will. Anyone could kill, but not everyone could make someone’s blood run cold with terror.
As Ash observed the frenzied looks on the faces of his men, he wondered just how many of such people he had killed. “Three? Four dozen? Probably more.” But the convicts didn’t seem afraid of their leader even though he was looking at them with a cold, indifferent stare.
“They’re no
