It was Aus.
Aus stood tall and straight, his expression composed. The last vestiges of his youth had faded, replaced by a seasoned maturity.
Compared to when Lynch had first found him, he was now a completely different person.
Dressed for battle, he wore the standard-issue armor of a low-to-mid-ranking Imperial officer. At first glance, he looked ordinary, but his composed demeanor set him apart.
He strode forward, his gaze landing on Angus.
Angus looked up, his expression questioning as he regarded Lynch's trusted second-in-command.
Then he saw Aus reach into his armor and withdraw an insignia.
It was a burnished gold metal insignia, about half the size of a palm, bordered by an inlay of Mithril filigree.
Embossed in the center was a Griffin, its wings spread as if poised for flight. Above the Griffin were a crossed sword and shield and a field of twinkling stars.
Angus's pupils constricted, and his breath caught in his throat.
