On the other side of the distant mountains, Away from the ancient temple where Amon rested, signs of human activity filled the land.
At the base of the mountains, a large camp was being built.
Hundreds of humans moved about with purpose.
They wore the armor of the Kingdom of Valmoria, steel plates etched with the kingdom's crest, cloaks bearing muted colors meant for long expeditions rather than parade grounds.
Their number was easily over two hundred, perhaps even closer to three hundred.
The once-quiet land echoed with sound.
Thud—thud—crack.
Several soldiers chopped down trees with axes, their movements practiced and efficient. Thick logs were dragged away to be used for campfires, barricades, and makeshift structures.
Others hammered stakes into the ground, setting up defensive perimeters. Some prepared food, while a few scouts stood watch, eyes fixed on the forest and the looming mountains ahead.
Smoke rose from multiple small fires, curling into the grey sky.
