He pulled himself to a halt, his cavalry drawing up after him, a frown sat on his face. The enemy's position could not have been weaker, but Tiberius' instincts told him that he would be a fool to draw near them.
Once more, he studied them, looking for understanding, looking at the effects that they had on Blake's soldiers. Again, he saw no forwardness, nor even a sturdiness. But there was a viciousness. With every clash of every sword, there was this fury that seemed to wish to dismantle everything that it came into contact with.
