The training grounds of the Bloodbane Empire's capital buzzed with the clamor of war preparations, a cacophony of clanging steel, barked orders, and the rhythmic thud of boots on packed earth.
The late afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the sprawling courtyard, where knights in polished armor drilled in precise formations, their shields glinting like mirrors.
Supply wagons groaned under the weight of iron-forged weapons, barrels of black powder, and crates of provisions, while squires darted between them, their faces flushed with the urgency of the impending Akerian campaign.
The air was thick with the scent of sweat, leather, and the faint metallic tang of oiled blades, a prelude to the bloodshed that loomed two days ahead.
At the heart of this controlled chaos stood Imperial Marshal Seraphine Valebright, her polished armor gleaming under the sun, its new engravings of coiling dragons catching the light.
