Grand Marshall Rohn rode slowly into the deserted town, his magnificent warhorse like an armored battalion all on its own. A small legion of men strode into the town around. Several small squads shot quickly forward and spread throughout the town, looking for any survivors. There were some but the Grand Marshall apparently had no need of them.
The squads returned without much delay. They were efficient at their jobs. Mufaun had taught them well, too well perhaps.
“Sire, there is no sign of Lieutenant Marshall Mufaun or Captain Steed. Five of his Captains lay dead on the battlefield, many of his men lay with them. There are beasts, great stone giants, among the slain as well.”
The Grand Marshall looked at the scout kneeling before his horse. “And what of the trolls?”
“As yet, nothing. There are also a number of trolls among the dead, but it appears the battle may have gone into the forest. I have three squads searching now.”
“And the villagers?”
“Nothing. There’s not one among the dead.”
Lukus Rohn, Grand Marshall of the Imperial Army, slid from his horse with ease and grace, hitting the ground with a light thud. “Lieutenant Marshall Belfoure.” The man was at his side seconds after his name was uttered. “Take your company with this scout and end this. Bring the troll and the Seer to me.”
Belfoure signaled his company forward then turned to the Grand Marshall, “What of Mufaun?”
“If he’s still alive, kill him and every man that stands with him.”
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