A gentle breeze blew, and warm sunlight blanketed the land.
The clear blue sky was cloudless for miles, as pristine as jade.
Time flowed on, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
Nothing could withstand its passage. More than half a year had now passed since Rex had dealt with the source of the Kingdom of Gilneas's disastrous snowfall.
To be precise, it was now exactly one year after the Burning Legion's invasion.
Half a year had passed, and the Lordaeron Subcontinent had entered the sweltering days of autumn.
Fiery red filled the landscape. Leaves swayed in the breeze like ripe peaches.
Rex sat astride the Netherwing King, gazing at a distant farm. Behind him stood knights in black armor.
The party stood beside the road, an imposing sight.
His cloak fluttered behind him, and satisfaction shone in Rex's eyes. People were forgetful. Half a year after the Kingdom of Gilneas's great snowfall, its people had long since shaken off the troubles it had brought.
The snowfall was now merely a topic of conversation after meals. Its effects had largely faded, which pleased Rex immensely.
Half a year of effort had finally overcome one difficulty after another.
Only after a long while did Rex turn his gaze away from the farmers at work. He gave the reins a gentle tug, and the Netherwing King obligingly began moving, walking forward with elegant steps. Yes, elegant. Had any other Netherwing imitated those movements, it could only have been called walking; it would never have deserved the word elegant.
As soon as Rex moved, the guards behind him followed.
The party gradually picked up speed until they were galloping. In the blink of an eye, they vanished, leaving only a black streak on the horizon.
Rex urged the Netherwing King onward, heading back