I consider it an honor to have fought alongside you, Prince Ragnar. So, it is equally an honor to face my death at your hands.
— General Pyndale
============================
Ragnar led the vanguard, his presence commanding the utmost respect. The dragon riders, clad in full armor with protective headgear against Trurian poison, knew the upcoming battle was daunting.
The eerie luminescence of the moon bathed them in an ethereal glow, turning them into spectral guardians, vigilant against the impending darkness.
As they waited in the stillness of the night, the battlefield before them seemed to stretch endlessly, a foreboding canvas for their impending clash.
The only sounds were the faint whispers of the wind and the rhythmic thumping of dragon hearts.
Each rider knew that, come dawn, their mettle would be tested, their valor would shine, and their kingdom's fate would hang in the balance.
