White Feather Canyon.
Wind howled overhead, stirring up fine sand and dust.
On a concealed rise, Joern lay behind a rock and whispered to Louis beside him, "Boss... are you sure the Snow Oath will really come through here?"
They had set out before dawn that day, bringing knights and soldiers around the main road and into this canyon's rugged terrain.
Then they had spent the entire day at work.
They had laid barbed tripwire traps across narrow passages, concealing steel cables and iron hooks among the grass and rubble.
They had also dug rockfall chutes into the heights on either side, securing boulders at the cliff tops so a single push would send them rolling into the canyon.
Louis had personally inspected every position and even prepared three retreat routes.
They wanted an ambush, not a fight to the death, preferably without any casualties.
Even if something went wrong, they had to get out unscathed.
Yet even when the setting sun stained the cliffs red, the canyon entrance remained empty.
Not even a bird had flown in to take a shit.
Joern was growing restless. He muttered under his breath, "Boss, don't tell me you got some bad intel? If someone tricked us..."
"Shut up." Louis did not turn around, delivering the words flatly.
"Oh." Joern had the sense to fall silent.
Louis watched the pass below and added, "They'll be here soon."
Louis's confidence was not unfounded.
It came from the daily intelligence update three days earlier.
"Thirty Snow Oath Warriors are expected to cross the northern pass of White Feather Canyon in the evening three days from now."
Joern crouched behind a rock, staring at the empty canyon and clicking his tongue in boredom.
"Are they really coming?" he muttered. "Someone didn't pull one over on the