While twenty youths returned to their barracks boasting mud-free flooring and clean straw, and Mel retreated to the dungeon embraced by Dark Energy, the Seventeenth Ward disciples scrutinized them. The skirmish scheduled for the afternoon belonged to them, and judging by their gleaming gazes, their prospects outshone those of the preceding ward.
Unless Baybars imparted the disparity betwixt them, they would remain utterly oblivious to the magnitude of the lead their rivals possessed, yet the confident posture of the Seventeenth Ward sufficed to fracture their slumbers. Whilst this applied to the twenty youths, Mel—staring out over the battlefield from the golden-yellow eyes of the Earth Dragon enshrouded from head to toe in pitch-black scales—harbored the absolute zenith of morale imaginable.
