Led by the Contra’Vagus, the dragoons rode north, powerful hooves sending up muddy sprays from the ground. During one stretch of the King’s Road – an unremarkable landscape save for a young, nearby copse to the west and some very low hillocks to the east – Montmercy suddenly gripped the reins. The mind was hostage to a recent memory of this very stretch... Images of a pain-stricken face staring up at the sky... So very dear a face, the Contra’Vagus had often joked of it as a mirror... Then the heart-stopping moment of holding that beloved young man post-death, with a bloodied, battered Beron staring down at the matching pair in shock, the ground littered with ten other dead Corps d’Noir Elites...
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