"We've arrived at the River Valley Basin."
When the scouts relayed the news from afar, Louis was standing on a protruding rock platform, holding a telescope, his gaze piercing through the snow-covered valley, looking at the frost-laden lowlands.
The land remained pale, the wind carrying the scent of permafrost and withered grass.
Yet, despite this, the basin still appeared exceptionally vast and fertile.
A great river flowed slowly through the center, with broken wooden fences and lingering smoke scattered along its banks.
This was the encampment of the Frost Giants, densely packed and scattered in over thirty locations.
"According to the scouts' report, there are a total of ninety-eight giants, occupying an area that forms a semi-arc shape, mainly concentrated in the central and southeastern hilly areas of the basin." Lambert said quietly, dismounting with the intelligence report, walking over to him.
