The dark clouds were split apart by lightning, and the rain poured down like a waterfall through the fissure.
The torrential rain was like waves suspended in the air, sweeping over the tents' tarps and Count Mate's banner insignia.
From time to time, puddles beside the patrolling soldiers' boots would burst with bubbles or tiny water columns.
Barricades and sharpened stakes were haphazardly arranged on the outskirts of the camp, where hundreds of tents swayed back and forth in the fierce wind, the canvas flapping wildly.
Although it was still early evening, lighting fires was difficult on a rainy night, so most soldiers rested inside their tents.
Only occasionally did the captain of the guards and other officers gather, hiding in a small tent, lighting the cheapest oil lamps, and repeatedly casting wood chips and dice on a low wooden table.
They occasionally looked up, pulling the tent flap tight to prevent the rain from seeping through the gaps.
