The day officially began as the first light of dawn spilled across the plains outside Edenhold.
It was a beautiful sight to see, as the holy city's walls were bathed in golden light like something out of a paradise.
Inside the city, the people were already awake, each going about their day and securing their needs. But they were unaware that their routines would soon be broken. That their clean streets would soon be stained by blood.
The wind stirred lightly, blowing across rows of armor and sharpened weapons.
King Mikael stood tall atop a rise, his two generals at his side as he gazed upon the doomed city.
His armor gleamed like a second sun, the silver lion of his royal line proudly emblazoned across his chestplate. His red cloak snapped behind him in the wind, picking him out from afar as the one to watch out for.
This would be a battle that would go down in history. Whatever happened after, he had to be dressed appropriately for it.
