A hundred barded warhorses fanned across the slush of the municipal square, ringing the perimeter in a bristling semicircle of lowered lances and notched recurve bows.
The civilian avenues behind the fountain remained open, leaving clear corridors of retreat for the terrified commoners who scrambled against the timber shopfronts.
Lord Garrow sat upon a massive armored stallion at the vanguard of the column, his fur-trimmed cloak billowing as he rested his gauntleted hand upon a broadsword pommel.
To his left rode a scarred warlord with a serrated poleaxe, while an older aristocrat in velvet robes guided a bay mare along the right flank.
"You dare dismiss my clerks and pry open the provincial infirmary without my seal?" Garrow barked across the muddy stones, his throat vibrating with arrogant malice.
