The three-day grace period passed exceedingly quickly, and the whole army had already set their sights on the first city—Westwatch. It took no less than four days before they arrived before the city walls. The town was built on a lonely mountain that seemed to stretch endlessly into the clouds.
It clung to the mountainside like a barnacle gripping a whale's flank. Its outer wall, carved from the very grey rock of the eastern highlands, snaked up the slopes, seemingly defying gravity. Jagged crenellations, like the bared teeth of a giant beast, crowned the wall, casting jagged shadows on the cobbles below.
Mighty iron gates adorned with the sigil of Erland—a silver wyvern clutching a mountain peak—stood at the sole entrance to the city. Their surface was perpetually slick with a thin film of oil that glinted ominously in the mountain sun. Atop the walls, soldiers patrolled, their figures stark against the clear blue sky.
