The first ray of dawn had yet to fully lift the veil of night. The entire world remained bathed in soft and diffused morning light.
On the eve of the Avalon Army's departure, nearly two thousand troops, including logistical support personnel, had solemnly gathered outside the towering castle.
The Sword Wings banner and the White Flame Sunwheel flag fluttered gently in the morning breeze, as if the land itself whispered in support of the departing warriors.
Rows of warhorses stood like an impenetrable forest, their hooves restlessly scraping the ground and stirring clouds of dust. The spear tips shimmered coldly in the morning light, resembling a gleaming silver sea.
At the army's flanks, dozens of Ranger Knights without banners stood silently. Their gazes embodied both the freedom and defiance of lone wanderers as well as the gravity that came from staring out toward distant horizons.
