An hour later, the ground vibrated. A desperate Aethelgard supply convoy approached the mesa. Three armored wagons pulled by domesticated sand-drakes halted near the entrance. The drivers saw the breached main gates and the blood staining the sand.
They immediately noticed the unguarded eastern ramp loaded with intact wooden barrels.
"Secure the cargo!" the lead driver yelled, snapping his reins.
A dozen Fourth Continent soldiers scrambled out of the wagons. They frantically loaded the poisoned barrels onto their transports. They constantly checked over their shoulders, gripping their spears tight against the perceived threat of the beastmen emerging from the dark cavern.
Krax watched from a high balcony, completely hidden in the shadows. He gripped his greataxe tightly. "I could jump down there and cleave the wagons in half."
"Let them run," Iron-Scale ordered. He tracked the convoy as the drivers whipped the sand-drakes and fled back into the Sea of Glass.
