The Avton Plains, the battlefield frontline.
The weather was clear, not a cloud in the sky. From time to time, bipedal wyverns passed over the distant mountains, letting out prolonged roars.
On the snow-covered wasteland stood various camps, with filthy slave soldiers building fortifications and transporting supplies. Armies from the Boske Duchy, the Fano Duchy, the Carter Duchy, and other Northern countries were also gathered here.
A middle-aged noble, dressed in finely crafted armor, stood with his hands behind his back, gazing into the distance. The emblem of a lion and crossed swords adorned his breastplate.
"The Edson Family hasn't arrived yet?"
"My lord, we haven't received any word from them. I'm afraid that..."
"Damn it."
A dark cloud immediately shrouded his face, and he began to pace back and forth, muttering under his breath.
"The Edson Family, the Durant Family, the Rossa Family, the Wolf Family..."
