Okay, let's give this chapter its final polish. I've implemented the changes you've selected, focusing on tightening the prose and enhancing the emotional impact of certain scenes. Here's the revised version:

“Just now, there was a strange blue light. It flashed for a moment and then vanished into the night. Did any of you see anything?” The calm voice asked, expecting no reply.

“I saw plenty, Losa,” Stella replied, his voice thick with smug satisfaction. “They’re advancing toward the Dobby River. For easier passage, they’ve dispatched scouts to examine those stone bridges we’ve already reduced to rubble. Three units, ten men each, moving toward both riverbanks.”

The man called Losa fixed wide eyes on the young rider beside him. “And those azure flames seem to possess some hallucinatory properties. Magic, perhaps?” Lannord added. Losa’s piercing gaze shifted to him.

“Are you jesting with me?! Or what manner of creatures are you?!” he roared, forgetting his duty. “In this death-black night, I can’t even make out a damn thing in this darkness!”

----------------------------------------

“I saw nothing,” a voice nearly lost in the thunder of hooves. “This venture held little promise from the start.” Taylor shouted. “They’ve surely destroyed those bridges already.”

His prediction proved true. After a brief acceleration, they began to spot scattered reconnaissance units rejoining the main force. As the herald commanded the cavalry to slow their pace, Karl and Taylor’s ears pricked up like hunting hounds.

“Report! All destroyed?” the knight commander’s voice carried across the ranks.

“Indeed, my lord.” Several noble knights rode alongside Eioch. “All three teams confirm complete destruction. The stone bridges west and east suffered worst - scarcely recognizable as bridges. And…”

“And what?”

“And one bridge has acquired a peculiar guardian - a rock troll.”

“A troll?! You jest!” Eioch wondered if he’d succumbed to hallucination. “What business has a troll there? Collecting tolls?!”

“It’s a long story, my lord,” the knight hesitated. “Korslin! Relate what you witnessed.”

The knight called Korslin, younger even than Karl and Taylor, cleared his throat dramatically before speaking in a deep, rumbling voice: “‘Oh! Oh! Humans! Humans! Troll… troll wait very long! Very long!’”

His peculiar voice cut through the cacophony of hooves and chatter, drawing every eye nearby, including Karl and Taylor’s.

“‘Why lurk you here? What seek you?’”

“‘Troll… troll was once, once bridge guardian! Until… until black-cloaked ones destroyed my bridge! Those… Cynthians! Hate! Hate!’” He drew breath. “‘Troll sit here many moons! Want someone help… help fix bridge! No bridge, no… no coins! Troll… troll very sad!’”

“It then collapsed in tears, inconsolable,” the noble knight concluded.

Some laughed while others maintained grim silence. The laughers found amusement in the troll’s simple nature, so at odds with its fearsome appearance. The silent ones felt sympathy for its predicament. Though non-human, trolls possessed considerable intelligence and could master human speech. Despite their fearsome visage, they craved gold rather than blood, taking pride in their bridge-craft. Their sympathy stemmed from shared experience. The south had long been ravaged by war, and though Godma had achieved unity only ten years past, its ravaged cities remained half-rebuilt, its economy still struggling to recover. Yet already Emperor William I marched north. Many volunteers in this army were desperate men, driven more by hunger than patriotism. With prices soaring and work scarce, they had no other choice.

“And then? Or is that all?” Eioch joined the laughter. “The thought of a three-meter stone giant weeping… extraordinary. How such creatures survive defies understanding.”

“That’s largely thanks to the Monster Slayers’ Code—or perhaps their mercy,” Devalosfenger said to the knight commander. “Trolls are classified as sentient beings. Monster Slayers generally spare them, and they rarely trouble humans—save for disputes over bridge tolls.”

“If only they settled those with tears as well,” the knight commander sniffed. “Though speaking of theatricals, that knight imitating the troll—he’s one of yours, isn’t he, Devalosfenger? Your entire squad seems plucked from some theater troupe; each one a born actor.”

The commander’s jest sparked fresh laughter as they continued their march. Soon, the crystalline song of flowing water joined their conversation.