The clouds amassed like mountains, covering the endless hills of the Winter Embrace Valley tightly.
On the gray-green river meadow, three thousand Holy Alliance cavalry were drinking water by the stream.
The warhorses flicked their ears, dipping their long snouts into the stream, sipping mouthfuls of water.
Bether was stroking the mane of a warhorse with one hand and reading a battle report with the other.
It was now December 12th, and according to earlier reports and his current reconnaissance, the vampires were still fleeing crazily.
This time, they not only abandoned a significant amount of spoils but also discarded some precious blood magic materials, even killing horses used to carry the loot and drinking their blood.
From the few straggling vampires caught, it was gathered that Serafe was fleeing in almost a mad state.
It must be said that parallel pursuit was the right approach.
