Two somewhat clunky-looking wagons rolled along the dirt road, carving deep ruts into the ground. The iron‑black carriage boxes looked nothing special, but the several Dokuns harnessed to the front were absurdly imposing.
Clack‑clack‑clack…
The mechanical winch turned as the Drunkard of the Sunset Red Squad clung under the wagon, busy dismantling something.
"Done yet? The Dokuns pulling us are about to keel over. Release the winch."
The old man built like a bear slapped the plank under him. Bang, bang—he sounded downright irritable.
"Almost. Shut up."
The Drunkard clearly wasn't easy to mess with either. He was the squad's Reconnaissance man, good at fixing gear, mixing explosives, assassination, and so on.
The bear‑strong old man, Joshua, was obviously the straight‑up frontal assault type—nine times out of ten, he was the one leading the Charge.
