The empire's army stood only five hundred meters away from the Tramplin walls.
From this distance, the stone towers looked even harsher, and the cold wind carried the echo of metal being dragged and shifted.
On top of the walls, Tramplin soldiers were busy, running to their posts, shouting orders, pushing their cannons into place.
Every movement showed that they were ready for a siege.
Raven stood at the front of his battalion, his spine straight, shoulders firm.
His breath fogged the air, but his eyes stayed sharp.
On his left, the other two battalions stood with the same disciplined posture.
Three blocks of soldiers, side by side, each one steady as a stone pillar.
In front of them stood the two generals, Vined and Duke Sant.
They watched the massive army with calm, unreadable faces.
Their cloaks fluttered in the cold wind, but their eyes did not move from the walls ahead.
Seventy thousand soldiers stood on the field, arranged in long, solid lines.
