The next morning dawned with a soft, golden glow that spread across the northeastern horizon. As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the scattered clouds, they cast a warm, ethereal light upon the landscape. The air carried a gentle breeze, whispering promises of a new day filled with possibilities.
In the northeast, the remnants of the previous day's battle were evident. The ground bore the imprints of countless footsteps, the scars of conflict etched into the soil.
The camp of the Ryntum soldiers slowly stirred to life. Tents flapped lightly in the breeze as soldiers emerged from their temporary shelters, stretching their weary limbs and preparing for the day ahead. The murmurs of conversations and the soft shuffling of boots intermingle with the weighing of the horses.
Wilmot and his officers convened around a central area, having a discussion among themselves.
