The borders of the River Domain were already a scene of utter devastation.
A persistent haze of smoke and dust hung over the scorched earth. Abandoned ramparts and broken weapons lay scattered across the desolate fields, while the occasional, mournful caw of a crow in the distance added to the bleakness.
Days of successive defeats loomed over the land like a heavy, dark cloud, and even the wind seemed to carry the scent of despair.
Inside the Central Army Camp of the allied forces of the River Domain, the atmosphere was just as oppressive.
Graham, the dean of the Knight Academy, had once been a man of robust physique and a voice like a booming bell.
Now, his temples were streaked with gray, and deep wrinkles creased his forehead and the corners of his eyes. Only his gaze still burned with an unyielding flame.
He gripped the secret letter just delivered from the Royal Capital so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
