"Madman! How could there be such a madman!"
On the North Shore of Rose River, the black-faced man's eyes were torn with fury as he punched and shattered a window bar.
Flames soared to the sky on both banks while the oncoming cavalry charged across the frozen river as if a stream of iron poured out of the gates of Hell.
Constantly, patches of ice would not withstand the trampling hooves, screaming as they shattered; constantly, riders would without warning drop in stature, vanishing into the undulating waves.
Yet the flow of iron did not slow at all; it sped up instead.
Especially at the very front.
There, a valiant figure in gleaming silver armor; there, a tall and slender white horse, as fast as a shooting star.
The sound of hooves piercing through the air like a thousand-pound hammer, again and again, struck at the hearts of the black-faced man's Eagle Guards and the rioters in frenzy.
"First Hundred-Men Squad! Charge, forward!"
