At dusk on the fifth day, the snowstorm had yet to arrive, but an unsettling chill spread through the canyon, as though even the air had lowered its voice.
Deep in the camp, the first wisps of cooking smoke rose, while the scouts' quietly spoken reports echoed between the rocks.
Vissa crouched over a map behind a boulder, frowning at the updated chart of the border defenses.
"...The sentries' positions change slightly every day. We can't work out the pattern, but the adjustments are definitely planned," one scout said in a low voice, chewing dried meat.
"These are the best defenses I've ever seen in a Northern Frontier domain," another veteran said with a frown.
Vissa's expression grew increasingly grave. She could sense that the border deployments here served more than a defensive purpose.
Their rhythm and arrangement were unlike the work of an ordinary imperial lord. They resembled a frontier fortress network built in wartime by a highly professional military command.
That meant the ruler of this domain was no ordinary figure.
She was about to speak when a faint whistle suddenly reached her ears.
Bang!
A cloud of icy blue smoke burst at the canyon entrance, and a potion carrying a strange fragrance swiftly spread.
Before Vissa could react, her body suddenly went limp.
Then dozens of Red Tide Knights sprang from both sides of the mountain path.
They launched their assault in silence, their coordination almost chilling in its precision.
Their tactics were clear, their teamwork exact: one threw bombs, another controlled the field, and another seized prisoners, like the gears of a finely tuned machine.
Within mere moments, more than a dozen scouts had been struck and fallen, tumbling unconscious into the woods.
Vissa gritted her teeth and counterattacked with her spear, trying to protect her