Perrin Winterhold came to the castle's high platform. From here, he could see the inner city barracks at a glance—the black-and-red Imperial Flag flew high there, fierce and warlike soldiers moved between the camps, and farther away, Mage Towers rose within the inner city, the Mage Eyes atop them constantly monitoring the entire area.
He raised his head again and looked toward the distant west—but today's gloomy skies and misty air blocked his line of sight. He could not see Winterwolf Fortress, now in Cecil hands, much less the even more distant Longwind Fortress.
Was Andersa still safe in Cecil territory?
The Winterhold Count sighed softly and set aside his pointless worries for the moment. Then he used magic to connect with several Mage Towers in the inner city, confirming that none of the Mage Eyes had detected anything unusual.
The Mage Eyes' primary task was not actually to keep watch beyond the fortress—they were truly guarding against the Knight Order encampments within the fortress and several reinforced barracks outside the city.
Those barracks were filled with high-spirited knights and soldiers, as well as devout, fanatical priests and battle clerics. They were the main force in this war—and its greatest consumables. Since the war began, the troops in the Winterhold region had increased to more than six times their normal level. Even now, fresh soldiers and clerics continued rushing from the rear to the front every day, making this narrow battlefield more crowded and more dangerous.
In Perrin Winterhold's eyes, what the magic-conducting trains brought from the rear each day were not armies, but fresh corpses.
Unlike ordinary "corpses," however, these "corpses" gathered at Winterhold were extremely prone to losing control. Their minds were saturated with fanatical impulses; their Nervous Systems and external perceptions had mutated into something neither human