As noon approached, a dull pounding of hooves drew closer, reaching the ears of everyone in Newborn Town.
It was the sound of ten armored warhorses striking the dirt in a synchronized rhythm.
"Enemy attack!"
The lookout's shout shattered the morning quiet.
Immediately afterward, the shrill clang of the alarm bell rang out over Newborn Town.
But the expected chaos and screaming never came.
The lookout had barely finished shouting when a farmer bent over in the fields straightened abruptly, his face turning pale.
But he did not run. First, he snatched up the hoe from the ground, then clamped his other hand around his son's wrist and all but dragged him toward town.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. Do what the lord taught us. We'll be fine..." he muttered, though his voice shook uncontrollably.
The people inside the town also followed the arrangements from their emergency drills, step by step.
The forge fires were quickly doused, and the ringing of hammers stopped abruptly.
Women took their children by the hand and followed routes they had rehearsed countless times, either returning home or climbing the walls to deliver arrows to the Garrison.
All of Newborn Town was like a machine that had been switched on, every cog moving along its designated path.
On the wall, the bushy-bearded deputy captain grinned, his eyes bloodshot. He barked orders for the militia to move supplies while spitting hard into his palm.
Veylin stood on the Star Fort's corner tower, watching it all with satisfaction. That deputy captain had done a good job. He deserved a bonus.
His gaze passed over the battlements to the approaching party.
Glenn rode at their head, still wearing the same chain mail, its surface reflecting a cold gleam in the sunlight.
The ten knights behind him wore