On February 1st, a heavy snow fell from the leaden sky, layering upon the snow that had yet to melt. Trudging through the muddy slush, an army equipped with brand-new rifles treked their way to Chelyabinsk.
Reinforcements from the Romanov Kingdom had arrived.
This force was entirely made up of veterans who had been discharged three years prior. They had already returned to their homelands, but a single decree from the Kingdom had called them back to the front lines.
"Unload all supplies in the city!"
The destroyed railway had not been repaired yet, and the supply deliveries to the front could only rely on slow-moving horses, an ancient method that had always existed.
The colonel leading the troops was a young man with a short beard, his hair slicked back and shiny. His cheeks were long, and his lower jaw jutted out slightly, making him look just like a shoehorn.
