The horns blared again as the caravan crested the ridge.
Dozens of mounted riders streamed into view, wearing House Jade colors, green and silver with a thorn-wrapped lance symbol proudly displayed on every tabard and flag. Supply wagons followed, flanked by rows of infantry. At least three small artillery carts rolled behind them, guarded by heavy knights with crossbows and tower shields.
It was an impressive display.
Tidy. Disciplined. Noble.
And then the yelling began.
A broad-chested man at the front of the cavalry line, riding a warhorse with barding polished to a blinding shine, pointed down at the chaotic remnants of Darin's camp and bellowed with enough force to rattle birds from the trees:
"WHO'S IN CHARGE DOWN THERE?! WHOEVER'S LEADING THIS MESS—GET YOUR ASS UP HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"
Darin, still chewing on a strip of crispy fried pork the Sorceress handed him, paused.
He looked over at her and sighed.
