With his hands in chains, Damian crossed the dark purple gate and arrived at a completely different place. This was a proper army camp. Hundreds of people were walking around, armed with swords and spears, clad in various kinds of armor layered with furs and clothes. Many fires were burning, and people were laughing, walking, and shouting all around. In the distance, tents housed ironworks, where blacksmiths or runesmiths were busy working on weapons and armor in a line.
Tents were scattered all around them. Damian wasn't sure, but if he had to guess, there should be over a thousand tents surrounding them. Even finding someone in this chaos would take hours. Just how many people were here? What did these people even eat? And even this wasn't enough people—Ashenvale had more. Damian knew the numbers would be in the thousands, yet the scale of this war couldn't be truly grasped without witnessing the scene before him.
