The dwarf looked up at Veylan, his wrinkled brow furrowed deep with disbelief. "Even with dwarven steel and rune shields, they cut us down like wheat. Our cannons might as well be tossing stones. I've watched siege runes strike their walls without leaving a scratch, as if the magic was nothing more than a child's drawing. Yet…"
The dwarf hesitated, glancing toward the horizon where the enemy encampment glimmered under the pale moonlight.
Rows upon rows of lights, straight and unwavering, stretched farther than the eye could see. Metal beasts the size of barns moved silently across the plains, their tracks grinding soil into dust.
"I overheard them," the dwarf said finally. "Speaking of you, Duke. They fear the Lion still. They know your name, even in their alien tongue."
Veylan's hand tightened on the railing. He did not look away from the distant lights, the faint hum of engines whispering like a distant storm.
