In the early morning of Druiysk, the air was filled with the damp smell of soil, and the tranquil small town was about to witness a grand spectacle it had never seen before.
From afar, dust rose on the road outside the town, horse hooves thundered, sweeping the snow-covered ground, and the cavalcade surged toward the town like a torrent.
The grinding sounds of wheels and the neighing of horses interwove, gradually approaching the city gates, causing the villagers by the roadside to stop their chores and curiously gaze at the spectacular formation.
With a deafening sound of hooves, the first thing to come into view was a squad of cavalry.
Their uniforms were mostly dark leather and coarse cloth, with breastplates, shoulder armor, and leg armor glinting coldly in the sunlight. The short bows, arrow bags, and handguns at their waists exuded a steady deterrence.
