"Are we to engage them at the root of the mountain?" Gord inquired as the group left the palace gates. "Do they outnumber us?"
"Are you afraid of the battle?" Mest asked in a mocking tone.
Gord sniffed back. He was not someone who was easily frightened. He was past his young age, more than forty years old. He had seen his fair share of battles in his life. He has led his troops to victory. "I never turned away from the battle. I won't turn away this time either."
"Does it matter if they outnumber us?" Mest looked at Gord who was riding beside him.
"My blade is thirsty as am I. I am looking forward to severing the heads of hundreds of Zolopts. My blade never tasted their blood." Gord said softly, but Mest could feel the weight of the words.
Mest looked forward to the endless path that
