There is red everywhere.
Rain fell steadily along the battlefront, creating a river of red under the piles of the fallen.
A shout and a pounding of hooves sound off as she cut through the enemies ranks, fighting to reach the inquisitions blades. A wall of gleaming red armor stands firm, unmoving as the enemy continues its advance.
I've forgotten what it means to live anywhere else. My only companions here are blood, death, and the backs of other order members. Their voices seem far away as they tell me, the battle is won. We can return to Athkatla, now. Where are we?
We were in Crimmor, the details are there if I strain myself. And this entire battle is best summed up as a caravan dispute. Is this what service to the Council of Six is really about? Using the knights- and paladins of the Radiant Heart, no less- to do their ugly swordwork?
"T'is folly for any knight," to question their temporal lords, her mentor would say.
"Let alone, a paladin," she mouthed the words to herself aloud, finishing his sentence.