Count Casano's nightmare horse was indeed a good steed, covering the fifty-mile journey almost in the blink of an eye. The Count finally breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that no matter how fast the bear-men on their two legs ran, they couldn't possibly be faster than a horse. Despite not engaging in formal combat, the brave Count still broke out in a cold sweat from the chill running down his spine.
The equipment of those Beamon warriors haunted the noble count like an overdose of ginseng, making him sweat coldly whenever he thought about it. Thankfully, he still had his family's private army of three thousand people, the great court mage Fran, and two squads of Giant Scythe-Hands. The equipment of the Pompei Heavy Scythe-wielders alone required a whole convoy to transport. The thought of how rich his own resources were finally began to calm the panic-stricken Count.