Ambrose sat upon the Golden Throne, suspended high above the desert.0

The radiant glow below did not affect him in the slightest. The battle between the gnolls and the paladins unfolded clearly before his eyes.0

Gnolls were feral, bloodthirsty creatures. But thirty of them, large and small alike, were cut down like vegetables by an assault led by two paladins. They were barely able to resist at all.0

Catherine, wearing dark lenses and floating beside him, asked curiously, "What's the point of controlling those gnolls? They didn't even reach the gates before they were wiped out."1

They were weak, pathetically so. A single monster-controlling spell could seize ahold of their leader, and the rest would obediently charge Sandshadow.0

But what good were such creatures? They weren't even fit to serve as cannon fodder.0

"No rush," Ambrose replied calmly. "The gnolls were never meant to threaten the city. I was...0