The night stretched endlessly, unmarred by clouds, the earth bathed in the moon's silver beams. Seizing the advantage, General Marlon Norse pressed forward, his army moving as a singular tide beneath the starlit sky. He felt his reputation would be at stake if he continued to delay as the thousand cavalry under Amnon had already gone ahead of them.
They only rested for four hours, and before the east brightened, they continued their journey.
By sunrise, the vast host of nine thousand five hundred soldiers and the five members of the elite Eagle Team arrived at the Northem encampment before the town gates—a broad, wind-swept plain known as Gwamuros. They joined the rest of the awaiting forces.
General Odin and Bener stood at the forefront, their sharp eyes raking over the ranks of approaching soldiers, seeking one face—one person.
Then, Odin saw him.