A Dreamer Among Ruins Chapter 15: Gathering Darkness by J. Miles Parker

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He understood that in other Lands, the soldiers of the conquered armies were allowed to be integrated into the local Enforcer squadrons without spending any time in the regiments or Pits. The thought made his teeth grind together and his eyes narrow.

The men he was surveying believed his sudden ire to be aimed at them and immediately began going through their forms, making sure, again, that they had overlooked nothing within their armor, arms or horses. They were each armed with longswords on their backs and spathas at their sides. A series of shortswords, daggers, mauls and maces were stored along their persons. Finally, each carried a ten foot black ironwood halberd, its black-lacquered blade a foot-long half-moon, again with the three swords carved into its sides. Their horses were black garrons rendered into monsters by black-lacquered bardings, their champrons wrought into the shapes of fanged, spike-lined serpent-faces. At first glance it would appear that the Enforcers of Engroth rode into battle upon the backs of small dragons.
Captain Hussorn marched up and saluted.

"The men are prepared, sir. We await departure at your order." Hussorn was one of Taraboor's proteges, a man who could handle nearly anything. He had assigned Hussorn to lead the Honor Guard because the Enthonian was the best leader the Guard could have, save he himself. At seven feet and two inches, he was the tallest soldier in the Guard. He was also rock hard. Nothing could move Hussorn, nor sway him from his orders. A man like Hussorn could have a tourney lance thrust through his heart and still keep living long enough to complete his duty.

"Not my order," Taraboor responded. "From this moment forward you are under the direct command of High Mage Tiarsul. I don't have to remind you what will happen should you prove a disappointment. There could not be a more important assignment for you unless you were attending the Emperor himself. I know you will not fail."

"Never, sir," the captain replied. His voice was steady. Only a slight look in his eyes betrayed what he was really thinking. Taraboor could not fault him; all of them were thinking the same thing. None of them enjoyed being in the presence of the grey mage for too long. Everything about him made Taraboor's skin crawl; the cloak, the hands. That voice. It was like...hearing breath come out of the dead. The mage had a way of moving that was more like gliding. He moved like one not among the living. And sometimes when the mage was nearby, Taraboor could feel something in his head, almost like a groping hand.

Still in all, as long as he and his men wore Engroth's colors, as long as they called themselves Enforcers, they would perform their sworn duties and would never flag. Even duties they would almost rather remove their fingers one by one with a fork in order to avoid.
"He's coming," Taraboor whispered. He had not intended for it to come out so low, nor so childlike. But over the sholder of the captain, far enough away that he was little more than a black smear, a figure emerged from the foot of Twilight's Tower.