The capital of Truva Province.
On the massive stone walls, the sound of patrolling soldiers' footsteps echoed heavily.
Since Governor Charles had announced the reconstruction of the Truva Legion, this border town had been shrouded in a tense atmosphere, as though a storm was about to break.
Captain Ian furrowed his brows, absentmindedly stroking the hilt of his sword. He gazed at the vast plains outside the city, and the uneasy feeling in his chest grew stronger by the minute.
As an experienced officer, he could feel the unusual magical fluctuations in the air.
"My lord, what are you looking at?" the adjutant asked carefully.
Ian didn't turn around. His voice was low and grave.
"A storm is coming. Send orders down—double the vigilance on all watchtowers."
As soon as his words fell, an unnatural cloud of dust rose on the distant horizon. At first, there was only a faint tremor, but it quickly intensified, as though an army of thousands was galloping toward them.
