Although Count Vitokin scoffed at the rumors circulating among the lower-ranking soldiers, should one day Viscount von Doggen become another Earth Sword Saint, then the Black Blade Legion might surpass the White Lion Legion. He took the spear from the young man's hands—the commander leading with the spear was an important belief in the Black Blade Legion, but now it remained just a ritual—Count Vitokin asked indifferently, "Have you seen the Princess's position clearly?"
"Clearly, Count!"
"How is it?"
"Arrogant in the extreme."
Beneath the shadows at the foot of Angerk Mountain, three massive phalanxes lay silent, lined up by over a thousand noble private soldiers on the north bank of the stream. The front three rows held spears four to five meters long, with oval giant shields reflecting sunlight—these oddly-shaped tower shields unlike any human troop; rather, somewhat reminiscent of the Silver Elf's field army of past times—Ansi's Throat.
