It was raining heavily on the border.
Octavianus wiped his rain-soaked face with his cold hands. His dark eyes narrowed to watch the rows of refugees entering the border gate.
Weary, frightened faces dominated the group of refugees. Some huddled around each other in the cold. Some stood frozen with blank stares.
The torchlight illuminating the gate wall was barely visible in the thick rain.
The rebels' attacks on the villages around Navaell have been intensifying lately. They not only robbed but also killed and burned anything they found. As a result, the survivors were now fleeing and seeking refuge in the Navaell Kingdom.
