Tereo's knights moved first.
"Back! Clear the way!"
"Step aside, by order of the Court!"
Steel-clad hands shoved into crowds of shouting commoners who fought to push closer, craning for a better look at the Court of Knights. Protests rose as boots and shields forced them back, the scene turning ugly fast.
Keiser's jaw tightened.
Beside them, his own brigade looked rough by comparison, scuffed leathers, mismatched armor, a few plates strapped where they mattered and nowhere else.
They weren't built for parades.
They were built to move.
To survive Sheol's terrain and its half-unknown beasts, to fight in places where rigid formations got men killed.
Their movements lacked polish, but they flowed, adjusting, circling, already watching the edges for trouble instead of posturing at the center.
"Easy," one of Keiser's men called out, stepping between a Court knight and a stumbling elderly man. "We've got survivors here."
