"Lord Titus..."
Duke Walter looked up at the Gold Dragon in the sky, his expression stirred, then he lowered his head and shifted his gaze to his own army.
In the dawn's dim light, the towering city walls stood firm, flags fluttering, and in front of the walls, a vast and powerful Allied Forces had gathered like never before.
On the ground, tens of thousands of soldiers from North Aisier were neatly arranged, clad in bright steel armor, holding gleaming longswords or shields, their expressions determined, eyes fervent, arrayed as densely as an iron wall.
They were all elite troops pulled from various places in North Aisier, including many Supernatural professionals, many of whom had followed Walter through life and death, enduring hardships, always believing that the Duke could lead them to rebuild the Holy Fadlan.
Behind them stood the mages, draped in magnificent Mage Robes, holding Magic Wands, enveloped in magical runes glowing around them.
