As we broke through and I saw the rebels properly for the first time, I felt the first real chill of the campaign.
They weren't conscripts. They were trained men. Their retreat was organized, pairs covering each other as they fell back into the broken terrain.
When I caught the eyes of one before he disappeared into the rocks, I didn't see hatred. I didn't see the wild-eyed terror of a man facing the Emperor.
I saw conviction. And I knew, in that moment, that this was going to be the hardest thing I had ever done.
In the aftermath of the pass, we took three prisoners.
I did not do what I had done in the Winter Plains. There was no patient, psychological dismantling. There was no extraction of secrets over days. I didn't have the time, and the mountains didn't have the mercy.
What I did was faster. It was harder. It was a different kind of cruelty.
