Departure

The horizon had barely begun to turn gray when the camp awoke. Wisps of smoke rose from the dying campfires like gauzy veils, drifting away in the chilly morning breeze.

Soldiers streamed out of their tents. Figures hurried between the camp shelters, accompanied by the clink of metal armor, the sharp rasp of daggers being drawn, and the dull thud of hooves against the ground, shattering the morning silence.

The recruits' faces were flushed with excitement. Their fingers trembled as they tried to tighten their belts, and they loudly discussed how they would buy a motorcycle once they earned their military rewards. The veterans, by contrast, were as steady as stone, their gazes calm as they quietly checked their belongings, equipment, and medicine for anything missing. They gave their shoes one last inspection, as though setting off on a long journey.

The sunlight struggled to pierce the thick clouds, like a blunt golden longsword. Its glare flashed off the troops' armor and bayonets.

A horn suddenly split the mist, its clear, mournful call echoing over the camp.

Amid the tense, orderly bustle, the King appeared.

Rudolf wore no heavy battle armor, only a finely crafted coat of mail beneath a purple velvet robe embroidered with a roaring lion in gold thread.

The sun had yet to fully emerge, but the gems set in his helmet and the large golden reliquary on his chest were already gleaming in the dawn with a cold, regal radiance.

Inside the reliquary was a gold ring passed down through generations of the royal family. It was said to have belonged to the Church of Light's first paladin, and to protect its wearer from all harm on the battlefield.

Several royal knights in ornate plate armor stood guard around Rudolf like iron towers. The standard-bearer held