The night once again oppressively shrouded the wilderness.
After several days of tense trekking, the team led by Jeming had set up a temporary camp, deep in the wilderness, hundreds of miles away from Golden Harbor.
The air was filled with the metallic scent of soil, the burnt fragrance of campfire wood, and a faint, lingering scent of blood.
Jeming showed no signs of fatigue and, together with General Brandon, had surveyed every possible campsite before sunset, finally choosing an open area backed by a small hill, slightly elevated and easy to defend.
The carriages were ordered to form a circle, creating a simple defensive structure to protect the nobles in the center of the camp.
Campfires crackled throughout the camp, their flickering lights casting the tired and anxious faces of the nobles in shifting shadows.
