The afternoon sun stood proudly in the middle of the sky, its golden light bathing the field before Edenhold and making what was already a terrifying sight look more… terrifying.
Rows upon rows of armored soldiers stood in perfect formation, their blackened plate glinting silver at the edges where the royal lion of the ruling family had been engraved.
Their numbers swelled into the tens of thousands. Footmen, archers, mounted lancers, siege units, and at their head rode King Mikael himself.
No emissary rode ahead, and no trumpet call heralded a demand for surrender. There was no need.
The holy city of Edenhold, proud and tall behind its thick white walls, would know exactly why Mikael had come. His very presence was the declaration.
The old faith ends today.
