The winds rustle bringing a serenity sound to the ground, swaying the tall grass and the leaves of the trees and the man snow white hair was blowing elegantly, his gaze was determined and his expression was calm.
He smiles with confidence before looking back, fifty thousand men ready to follow him into battle.
Looking upwards, he saw the clouds moving in haste.
Arial looked in front of him and his blue eyes gleamed. He was sitting on horseback like most of his soldiers.
He has fifty thousand men on his back, the banner of his House proudly stand there on the air fluttering.
A dragon sitting on a mountain while it's left hand is holding a shining pearl.
The tribes have no bannermen so he created his own bannermen. In the Empire to hold the banner of the Emperor was considered an honor.
There is also the sense in instilling unity. They are not Saranites. Not of Ragran. Not of Arakian, not of Negevians, not of the Thirteen Tribes.