Everywhere Erric looked, he saw white armor and Alessian banners. It wasn't a scouting party that the mercenaries attacked—it was an entire cohort of Alessian soldiers. The mercenaries fought hard, but they were undisciplined. They lunged at the wall of armored soldiers like drunks in a tavern brawl. They were cut down, one after another, with relative ease. The Alessians simply blocked and parried each attack, taunting their foolish foes before cutting them down. And then everything faded and Erric saw nothing at all.