Stratholme Fortress.
The bustling city had fallen into silence. People tightly closed their doors and windows, quietly waiting for news from outside.
Due to the prior "Grand Conscription" by the Allied Forces, the streets were scattered with abandoned items and shattered furniture, with patches of bloodstains on the ground.
"Martial law in the entire city—"
"Without orders, no one may leave the city!"
The City Defense Army patrolled the streets repeatedly, vigilant against the invasion of external enemies.
"Anyone hiding strangers will be hanged!"
Sometimes they would knock on someone's door, both to check for spies, and to collect some "protecting the city" fees, of course.
On Stratholme Fortress's tall, weathered city walls, the true commander of the City Guard Army, Count Galahad Ponte, stood on the tower, anxiously looking at the distant horizon.
"This war will decide everything."
