The Dusacks stood aside, their eyes fixed on the ground, none daring to look up.
Castor swung his military sword and bellowed, "Chase him! Bring him back to me! For neglect of duty, desertion! I'll execute him myself!"
The lieutenant colonel's guard cautiously reminded, "Sir, we still need to chase 'that thing'... That Venetian won't get far. Send word to Revodan, let others catch him."
Lieutenant Colonel Castor grew angrier the more he thought about it. "Who was the last to see Winters Montagne yesterday?"
The Dusacks exchanged glances, sharing information among themselves, before calling over the blacksmith Misha. The old blacksmith hadn't joined the chase due to an injury to his leg.
"Were you the last to see the deserter Montagne?" the colonel asked.
The old blacksmith scratched his head. "I report to you, sir, I don't know if I was the last to see the lieutenant."
"What did he come to you for?"
"To pick up the sword he'd ordered."
"Anything else?"
"That's all."