It wasn't camaraderie that motivated the enemy that Blackwell and his men fought against. It wasn't like any army that he'd ever witnessed. There was no morale, and there was no true individual strength either – not in the way that he knew it. It was corruption to the highest, and what they detested most, those men, was the firmness with which those flagging soldiers still continued to hold. Against this monstrous enemy, there were still cries of great will, holding everything together. There were still brothers in arms, who, in fits of heroics, did the exact opposite of their enemy. They gave themselves not to further the cause of the army, but to defend the comrade next to them – their own flesh.