Snow fell in slow spirals, so fine it looked like it could disappear with just a touch. But it was now officially winter, and the snow wasn't going anywhere any time soon.
I stood just outside the southern watchtower, my eyes fixed on the winding road beyond the lower gate, where the Baiguang banners were beginning to appear one by one—green cloths were held high over silver poles, like living trees walking upright through the snow. The horses moved slowly, deliberately, and the riders made no effort to disguise their pace.
They wanted to be seen.
But did they want to be seen as a threat or something else?
"They've already crossed four provinces," said Mingyu coming up beside me. "The northern ridge patrols reported their arrival two days ago. We allowed them in."
"I noticed," I snorted, looking up over my shoulder at him. "They are a bit hard to miss."
