The sun had not yet risen over the Winter Citadel, but the courtyards were already completely deafening.
The heavy, metallic clanking of black iron armor, the stomping of massive warhorses, and the sharp, barked orders of unit commanders shattered the seven-year peace. The Unified Army was mobilizing with terrifying, flawless efficiency.
In the center of the main courtyard stood Valerius.
He was no longer the relaxed father or the diplomatic King. He was entirely consumed by the Warlord. He wore his legendary, heavy black iron battle armor, spiked at the shoulders, with his massive broadsword strapped across his broad back. His glowing violet eyes were narrowed into lethal slits, entirely devoid of mercy or warmth as he surveyed his elite vanguard.
"General Kael!" Valerius’s deep,
