Atop Blackrock City's highest watchtower, fierce winds whipped the battle flags into a snapping frenzy.
Marquis Ironwall narrowed his eyes, his hands clasped behind his back tightening their grip.
At the farthest edge of his vision, where Northern Foothills Province met Silver Bay Province, a dark mass of people crawled slowly but steadily westward.
There were not dozens of them, nor hundreds.
They were the inhabitants of three entire counties.
They pushed wheelbarrows and carried bedrolls on their backs; some even carried their household iron pots.
No one looked back.
This was both a desperate flight and a resolute migration.
"This is what you called a 'minor disturbance'?"
Marquis Ironwall Marcus lowered his telescope, turned around, and kicked over the weapons rack beside him.
Refined steel lances crashed onto the floor with a deafening clatter, making the several lords kneeling there shudder.
"Three counties! Three entire counties of people are running to the heretics' territory!" Marcus drew his sword and pointed its tip straight at the nose of the lord at their head. "Are your eyes just holes to breathe through? All those people! And you only reported it when they were about to cross the border river?"
The lord struck his forehead against the rough flagstones, blood streaming down.
"My lord Marquis... it wasn't that we refused to report it." The lord's voice trembled. "It's... all the checkpoints along the route were empty. No one stopped them, and no one raised the alarm. The soldiers stationed there... went with them."
Marcus felt a chill shoot up his spine into his skull.
"Ready my horse."
He sheathed his sword and strode toward the tower exit.
"Muster the Ironwall Knights' Order. I'll see for myself where these peasants found the nerve."
On the banks of the Graywater River, at Border