Hundreds of soldiers marched briskly toward Deerhorn Town.
Strangely, there were no troops wielding halberds and wearing armor to maintain order, nor officers riding high-headed horses and dressed in splendid uniforms.
Only soldiers, and nothing but soldiers.
A rider came from the opposite direction, squinting his eyes, trying hard to find his superior among the soldiers.
A bald man impatiently waved his arm at the rider.
Relieved, the rider happily ran to the colonel, saluting automatically.
Gessa slapped away the rider's hand in a fit of anger, "How many times have I said it? No salutes!"
The colonel had also changed into coarse clothes, his face smudged haphazardly with soot.
But no matter what he wore, his shiny bald head was too eye-catching, so he had also gotten a dirty hemp freedom hat.
At a glance, this baldy actually did look like a rough peasant—just a bit too plump.