A salty, fishy sea breeze blew across the coastline of the Grey Marsh Territory.
Baron Kroo stood on a sand dune, wiping beads of sweat from his temples with a handkerchief.
The sand beneath his feet was scorching hot from the sun.
The nearby beach had been transformed into a raucous training ground.
"Charge! You bunch of jelly-legs! My grandmother runs faster than you!"
Ola's roars were deafening, even from a great distance.
Spurred by his bellows, a company of Knights was repeatedly practicing formation charges.
The Knights from the Dawn Territory formed the left wing. Their formations were impeccable and their movements precise, but their charges always seemed to be missing something—they lacked that final, decisive edge.
The right wing was comprised of Ola's own Knight Order. Those Knights were one with their mounts, and every charge they made carried a ferocity that seemed powerful enough to shatter the very earth.
