The earth trembled beneath them, a low, rolling shudder that passed through the soil and into the bones. For a moment, it almost felt like an earthquake, but Valen knew better. The rising wall of dust on the horizon told the truth. It was not the land that stirred, but the coming storm of men.
Eleven thousand.
The number alone carried weight, but seeing it, feeling it, was something else entirely. Valen had never witnessed such a mass of flesh and iron moving in unison, not since the days when he served in chains under Gratios' army. Then, he had marched at the very rear, a nameless beast of burden dragging carts and crates.
But now,he sat atop a horse, its barding crested in black and white , his armor polished bright enough to catch the light like a mirror. The sword at his side bore the sigil of the home that raised him , the same as the one stitched into the standard fluttering behind him.
