[Eastern Border of Zahryssar — Dawn]
The first ray of sunlight never reached the battlefield; dark clouds swallowed the sky long before dawn could paint the horizon. The earth itself seemed to have forgotten warmth as the bitter wind swept across the endless plains, carrying the scent of ash...and blood.
Stretching across the western ridge...the Imperial Army of Zahryssar stood in perfect formation. Thousands of silver banners fluttered proudly beneath the storm.
The Silver Serpent, the symbol that had ruled the continent for centuries. At the very front...Zeramet sat atop his massive black warhorse.
His golden eyes never left the opposite side of the valley, beside him... Levin quietly tightened the leather gloves around his hand.
Captain Varesh slowly rode forward. "Malik, the scouts have returned."
Zeramet never looked away from the horizon. "Report."
"They've occupied the entire eastern valley, estimated forces..." Varesh hesitated. "...One hundred and eighty thousand."
