Shangyang City, in the Northern Frontier.
The rising sun cast its gentle radiance over the land, while the city and nearby wooded hills beneath its light remained shrouded in the thin mists of spring.
After a night of silence, the entire city seemed to be waking.
A squad of elite soldiers from the City Guard Army marched along the battlements, bearing spears and halberds and clad in iron armor and helmets. They were clearly prepared for battle, sleeping with their weapons at hand as they awaited the dawn.
They were carrying out the routine changing of the guard.
At each stop, a comrade on duty stepped out from a post along the parapet, and an elite soldier left the squad to replace him. The process repeated, until every soldier in the squad had taken up his position.
On another stretch of wall, a similar squad was doing the same thing. The gate officer made a point of coming up, patrolled once with several gray wolves, then descended from the battlements and returned to the guardhouse below.
"Another day begins. Let's hope those people from Central Province have some sense and don't come charging over here to fight and kill."
With his superior resting below, Old Song stood bored atop the wall. He sighed softly and muttered in a voice that carried only a few dozen feet.
"Heh, Old Song, that's all you're hoping for." Nearby, Old Wang was a Shangyang native just like Old Song. They had grown familiar over their years of service, and he could not help chuckling at the remark.
"Of course he is. Old Song's a respectable man with a wife, children, and a warm bed waiting at home. You've no idea how comfortably he lives. He's nothing like you, a bachelor who spends all day