At sunrise, the horns of Hiving blared.
The deep, solemn notes rolled through the dawn air like a storm approaching.
Their echo carried through the narrow streets, through the stone towers of the guild district, across the merchant quarter, and finally out towards the city gates.
The time had come.
Wade adjusted the strap of his pack over his shoulder and fell into step beside Rowan.
The streets were overflowing. Adventurers by the hundreds, maybe more than a thousand, filled the avenues, armor clinking and banners fluttering in the wind.
Their boots struck the cobblestones in rhythm, the sound merging into a single unified march that shook the air.
Up ahead, a sergeant carried a large wooden placard with bold black paint spelling out their unit designation.
Division seven.
Wade and Rowan followed the line, falling neatly into formation behind a column of armored knights.
