The sea breeze carried a salty tang along the coast of the Gray Marsh Fief.
Baron Kru stood on a sand dune, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
The sand beneath his feet had grown scorching hot under the sun.
The nearby beach had become a noisy training ground.
"Charge! You spineless wimps! My grandmother could run faster than you!"
Even from far away, Ola's roar made people's eardrums throb.
Under his furious shouting, a Knight Company repeatedly practiced massed charges.
On the left were the knights of the Dawn Territory. Their formation was impeccable and their movements precise, but something always seemed to hold back the force of their charge. They lacked resolve.
On the right was Ola's own Knights' Order. Those knights moved as one with their mounts, every charge carrying a ferocity that seemed capable of punching through the earth.
"There it is again," a noble from the Dawn Territory said quietly. "Our knights are as skilled as anyone, but that spirit..."
Baron Kru said nothing.
He was watching the coastline.
Two nascent fortresses that had only just "grown" out of the sea stood like enormous turtles, dividing the waters outside the harbor into three channels, one large and two small.
Countless workers clung to them like ants. The long arms of cranes swept arcs through the air, hoisting tons of supplies into place.
"A monster," Baron Kru muttered.
"What did you say, my lord?" The noble beside him had not heard clearly.
"I said Weilin Klein is a monster."
Baron Kru repeated himself, his tone conflicted. "Look at those people. They don't look like they're performing compulsory labor. They look like they're building their own homes."
The sense of superiority he had felt as a Count's vassal toward a pioneering Baron had been worn