On the morning of September 11, before the thin mist had fully dispersed, Carnford's vanguard cavalry had already reached the outskirts of Sea City. This was a core region that Sauron had cultivated for many years after occupying the Northern Territory—a land of fertile soil and lush pastures, held by the Sauron for more than a decade.
A great many members of Sauron's central tribes lived across this prosperous land—upper-class Sauron who had once followed Harald through southern campaigns and northern wars, enjoying the spoils of conquest, as well as the lower-class Sauron herdsmen and serfs who farmed, grazed livestock, and served them.
Yet when news that the Sauron army had been annihilated north of Frosgard swept across this land like an avalanche, everything changed.
Fear spread through the crowds like a plague. These Sauron knew full well how many crimes their people had committed upon the soil of the Northern Territory over the past decade—burning, killing, plundering, enslaving, massacring villages... every blood debt was etched clearly in the hearts of the Northern Territory's people.
Now that Sauron's military power had utterly collapsed, the support they had relied upon to lord it over others was gone. The thing they feared most was about to arrive—Carnford's vengeance.
No one believed the Carnford People would forgive them. If the positions had been reversed and they themselves had won, they would never have spared their former oppressors either.
So, almost instinctively, a mass exodus began.
Starting from Sea City and following the roads leading northwest, refugees covered the vast plains. Some drove crude carts piled high with every possession they could carry away; some rode horses with young children clutched in their arms; even more traveled on foot, supporting the old and leading the young as they struggled onward through the ice and