Acryon, the capital of the Acadian Empire, was alive with electrifying energy.
The streets were packed with people who had poured out of thier homes to witness the arrival of the brave warriors.
Banners bearing the crest of the Empire fluttered proudly in the wind from towers, balconies, and archways.
The air constantly buzzed with the sound of trumpets and war drums, their rhythm echoing through the vast avenues of the capital.
Many months had passed since the Dark King's army had begun its march across the lands of Acadia. Word of their travel and growing numbers had reached the capital long before their arrival.
What had begun as a mere fifty warriors had, over the months, slowly grown into a force of nearly five hundred!
And now, at last, the warriors had reached the northern gates of Acryon.
From the towering walls, people craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the approaching procession.
