(Read Zshurii’s Song, Snippet 8)
The Prophet-King walked his black-coated warhorse alongside the commander’s dappled grey. From horseback, Anntica and her escort bowed deeply at the neck. After a moment, the Prophet leaned in, and the others lifted their heads. Then the two leaders began conversing, there in the middle of the field.
A reverent quietude had overtaken the onlooking troops. Zshurii was far from the only soldier in the Prophet’s army who hadn’t previously laid eyes on the Wright’s chosen. Subdued oaths and exclamations skittered through the ranks.