The sound of clanking armor and approaching footsteps echoed through the dark streets. It was obvious that the marchers didn't care if they were heard. In fact, it sounded like they were trying to make more noise than was necessary. Erric Deleyn closed his eyes and listened. He tried to count how many armor-clad boots were pounding toward them. Not that the numbers mattered. If there were two Alessians or ten, Erric knew it would how this was going to end. "Someone's going to stick a blade right through my head," he thought. More steps. Louder. Louder. And then silence. "Kill those bastards!"