Thirty-seven retainers locked shields across the ford's boundary markers while Hajin strolled down the bank with his torn coat open. Seventeen auxiliary spearmen waited behind them, and ash-cords ran between every front breastplate like crude stitches holding one wound shut.
Their commander raised his sword above the center of the line, and every cord pulled taut at once.
"Thirty-seven retainers, all tied together," Juna reported through the bead from the bluff, keeping her bow clear of the rock.
"Those ash-cords join every breastplate, so whatever you hit gets passed down the line instead of landing on one poor bastard."
'Shared hits and a shared feed, so the trick is making them stop sharing anything at all.'
The Chain settled around his forearm, its once-fractured section lying smooth and whole against his dressed wrist.
"Spreading the hit only works while the joins hold," he said, squinting at the nearest cord, "so keep your archers on the rear bank and let me play."
