Chapter 528

The wind howled over the scorched plains of the orcish lands, kicking up dust and ash with each passing gust. The once-vibrant grasslands were now nothing but blackened earth and cracked soil. Faint smears of blood stained the ground in places where battles had already been fought and won by the invading force. General Snowe stood on a slight rise overlooking the carnage, his eyes cold, unreadable, fixed on the horizon. His army stretched behind him like an endless tide of steel and discipline.

Thirty-thousand strong, the Threian host advanced like a machine built for annihilation. Spears gleamed under the pale light of the overcast sky, swords sheathed in blood from past engagements were cleaned and re-sharpened, and rows of soldiers marched in grim silence. Banners bearing the sigil of House Snowe...a silver falcon diving against a field of blue....snapped in the wind above each division.