To the east of the Empire, adjacent to the Mountains, lies a border fortress.
Dwarves scattered in groups of twos and threes on the streets, using their battle axes to pry open tightly shut doors and driving out the remnant soldiers hiding in the corners.
The old and weak Demon Race soldiers raised their hands, being escorted through the rubble-strewn streets towards a makeshift prisoner camp outside the city.
General Duvalin stood in the plaza at the center of the fortress, stepping on a tattered military flag beneath his feet, the emblem of Duke Levi on it.
He glanced around, his brows knit into a knot.
The fortress was taken too easily.
The Defense Runes were only partially broken, and as the Dwarves climbed the city walls for the second time, the defending army collapsed.
Inside, almost all the Demon Race soldiers were old, weak, sick, and disabled.
