DRAP! DRAP! DRAP!
CLIP-CLOP! CLIP-CLOP!
As Otto, Tristan Albireo's general, entered the capital of Ursa Kingdom, an eerie silence enveloped the deserted city. The usual hustle and bustle had been replaced by an unsettling stillness. The once lively streets now echoed with emptiness, and the vacant buildings stood as silent witnesses to an impending confrontation.
Otto's five hundred thousand men had been separated into five armies and scattered across the Kingdom. One hundred and twenty-five thousand were marching to the capital with him as the leader. They were the central force, and the rest were waiting for his command in a separate location.
The atmosphere was thick with tension as Otto's senses heightened, his stallion's every step echoing through the desolate streets. The city seemed to hold its breath, awaiting something momentous as a strange feeling crept through Otto's mind. Something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
